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autumnalmoons · 1 year ago

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Your late-night company (nsfw, mdni, +18 only)

It's smut bc I'm a horny bitch (lovingly), and because I want him to split me in half--I know he can, like c'mon

Viktor x fem!Reader | 2.1K

Notes: PWP, Established relationship, set kinda between act 1 and act 2, Vaginal Fingering, Innapropiate use of Viktor's cane (sorryyyy), Dom!Viktor if you squint, Cockwarming, Nipple play, English isn't my native language so lemme know if i messed up somewhere :)

Ever since he could hear the echo of your heels reverberate around the lab like a second heartbeat, Viktor knew you were onto something—and such rhythm makes his heart pick up speed too, though Viktor’s faster than each one of your carefree strides against the dark marble floor.

You go, smooching his cheek and surely leaving a pink mark on your lipstick. Not that he minds, of course, he's used to leaving his loving marks on you, too, and even now, he can see the now purplish hickey down your collarbone that you’ve been trying to veil with a silk scarf.

“What brings you here, my darling?” Viktor hums, unconsciously seeking your lips. Is that pink lipstick the one that tastes like cherry? He’s a man of science, he’s ought to investigate.

“Nothing much. I came to bring you home,” you say, hugging his slender frame from behind, your chin hooked in the crook of his shoulder, just over his back brace. “I miss my Vitya so, so much…”

Viktor shivers, trying to ground himself in the domestic, seemingly innocent gesture of a kiss over your temple. "I miss you, too, my jewel. Alas, Progress Day is in a couple of weeks, and we need to have everything ready in case a mishap happens.” He sighs, thick brows furrowing in focus. “As usually does.”

You nod. Of course, you understand that his work is a priority, but you also have a good memory; of those two past days when you went to sleep alone. There are those familiar purple bags under his eyes, only darker.

“Hmm, alright,” you say, massaging his scalp for a bit before wandering around the lab. “Then allow me to make you company. This place is filthy, handsome.”

“Chaos potentiates creativity.”

Your chuckle reverberates around the lab, which causes Viktor to lift his chin a little higher, how easily he can make you happy.

He turns back toward his desk, hearing you going toward the closet supply to get a feathery duster, mumbling a song under your breath as you hop around cleaning surfaces and wiping down machinery with a piece of cloth.

It's only a matter of time before your plan starts, and you have calculated it just as perfectly as Viktor's equations; using your knowledge of the man next to you, his existence is the most amazing creation you've seen—much to Viktor's attempts to surpass it with his machines.

You dust off the drawer next to his desk, ‘accidentally’ knocking off one of the pens tossed over the wooden surface, further down against the wall. "Oops!" you say in your best role of an actress, which isn't that good, only for him to look your way.

The floor is cold as you brush it with your fingers, a fine layer of dust and carbon covering it. One of the windows must be open because you can feel the cold autumn wind brushing under your mischievously short skirt, one of Viktor's favorites, right against your already wet folds that the underwear you chose today isn't meant to cover.

You want him to see. Swaying your hips playfully the moment you feel his gaze burn your back.

Over the purring of the machines, you hear his air leave in a sharp inhale.

Between not wearing panties at all, you choose ones made of black lace and cute, little black ribbons decorating the most… enticing areas. The cloth down your pussy was too small, and you had to choose or covering your clit, or covering your core—which of course, you choose the eager bundle of nerves, so Viktor could see you all wet and glistening for him.

Smiling, you push the pen further down his desk, a soft—very inappropriate—groan escaping your lips, copying my memory of one of the sounds you made every time his cock presses that special spot inside of you.

“I liked that pen a lot,” Viktor mutters, though you can hear the smirk in his voice.

By now, you have no idea where that damned pen had gone. “I’m sure I can make it up for you about that,” you say, knees bending slightly, so your pussy can open a little. Only if he ever tries to play the oblivious.

A chair squeaked, and it’s impossible not to start imagining Viktor’s lithe fingers caressing the curve of your ass. Instead, you got the cold metal of his cane’s handle.

“Ah!” He chuckled at hearing your surprised gasp.

“Is that disappointment I hear, my jewel? Or just cold?” He hums, dragging the handle along the folds of your pussy until it brushes your entrance, only the tip. “You’re all dressed up for me. And I wonder… why is that, hmm?” he says, the tip of the cane playing between your folds. “Is it because you’d like to ‘keep me company’?”

“I never told you how I planned to accompany you," You mutter, feeling your legs starting to shake as the cold metal meets your boiling core, thinking that you were about to melt.

“Use your words, darling. If you’re so eager.”

There is a certain edge to his words, the hoarse tone around his R replacing the usual soft tone he uses to whisper to you when you two aren’t in the privacy of your bedroom.

“I… I thought you may need… um…” you say, voice lost with each playful movement of his cane in and out your entrance; barely some inches in, but moving it just right thanks to the exhaustive research Viktor had conducted ever since he caught you with that vibrator. Little by little, your arousal warms the metal, and you wonder if Viktor can feel it, too. “Relaxing.”

“Relaxing? My, I’d say this is rather… distracting,” he chuckles, the wheels of his stool coming closer as you hold your hands against your burning thighs. “A pleasant one, of course, but still a distraction.”

“Oh? Then do I deserve a punishment?” You try your best to quip, though your voice quivers mid-sentence.

There’s barely a heartbeat of silence, and then:

“Bend over the desk,” he says, voice stern. You could almost picture him in one of the Academy’s auditoriums giving a lecture in that tone, absolute, bossy. He knows it, of course. He knows you, after all, just like any of inventions, he had spent several hours studying you. Loving you.

Your walls squeeze nothing at the words, but the light from the descending dusk is enough for him to see it.

“Hmm,” Viktor says. “I wonder how you’ve been pleasing yourself these days that I haven’t returned home, my jewel.”

You attempt to roll over—you want to see him, because he looked just so unfairly stunning with his brown hair stuck to his temples, beads of sweat running down his chest as he bit his lip as seeing you just so shamelessly needy for him, trying to contain himself just a little longer...

He pushes your back down the desk, pinching your butt once he catches you trying to turn your head to see him.

“Oh, no, no, my love. If you are going to distract me, then you must accept the consequences.” He bends down, biting your earlobe before nuzzling his nose down your neck, taking in the sweet essence of your clothes, of your hair, the same one he could always smell on his pillow. The mix of his shampoo makes his grasp on your hips tighten.

You whine, pouted lips parting in a breathless moan when he introduces the handler of his cane inside of you, his thumb lazily rubbing circles on your clit, first clockwise, and then in the contrary direction once he feels your walls starting to contract, ushering your orgasm away.

The wet sounds of the handle coming in and out your soaked cunt fills the lab, Viktor’s stool creaking as he re-position. From the sound of his pants unbuckling, you think you know what he’s doing that needed such a good grip on his seat.

“I wonder if you’d take me as well,” he mumbles, your wet sounds mixed with a new one that could only be Viktor starting to jack off from the view of you. "All those toys and they can't replace me.” He uses his left knee to part your legs even wider, his free hand making a wrinkled mess of your skirt, just above your hips.

You huff, fingers white from grabbing the edge of the desk. “As if I’ve ever disappointed you.”

Viktor chuckles, pinching your clit slightly before letting go. The emptiness fills you when he withdraws his cane, though the narrow length is soon replaced by the thick head of his cock rubbing against your entrance.

“Mmmm,” you hum, satisfied. Your hips buckle against him, trying to take him inside of you in one thrust. Sadly, Viktor’s punishment for keeping him away from his duties was never.-ending teasing.

Viktor caresses the curve of your ass, his hands going to brush the outline of your hips and waist until his chest is against your back once again, his big length teasing through your folds without actually giving you what you want—and yet, you know you could finish off with only this. Would he be so cruel, though?

“Come here,” he mutters against your ear, sliding a hand around your waist, and pushing you down the seat with him.

You hiss, feeling the quick buckle of his hips as his cock burrows deep inside of you, twitching at the welcoming, wet warmth of your walls. His hands take you by the hips to stop you from starting to ride him.

“Shhh, shhh. Patience, my love,” Viktor coos, nuzzling his face in the side of your neck as he bites a trail of kisses toward your shoulder, fingers gently pulling down one end of the scarf, brushing slowly down your shoulders to reveal the quite generous cut in your neckline.

Humming, approbatory, Viktor returns to his desk, with a firm grip around your waist to keep you still.

He kisses your cheek, putting his cane against the wall. The metal glistens, soaked with your juices against the reddish hue of the dying sunlight.

His right hand pushes your legs open, tangling your legs against the desk to keep them open when his fingers slide down your stomach, fingers lazily rubbing your clit.

Closing your eyes, your head lolls against his shoulder, letting him take your lips in a kiss that lets you taste the bitterness of the coffee he has just drank to keep himself awake during the night.

His tongue passes along your bottom lip, and it’s indeed that cherry-flavored lipstick, teeth grazing the sensitive skin as the hand grabbing your hip raises to grab your breasts when he grows needy, too.

“Vitya…” you moan, voice muffled as he kisses you again.

“My favorite blouse,” Viktor says, tugging down the smock of the front so he could see your lacy black bra. “So easy to access.”

You smile, hips gently swaying side to side against his lap each time he strokes your clit.

Viktor’s fingers work masterfully inside your bra, rubbing your nipple as your hands frantically undo the clip of your top so he can push the bra away.

It’s too much. Between his playful nibbles down your neck, the slow circles drawn on your clit, his fingers pinching your nipples and rubbing them to make the little peaks soft again even his cock filling you, although still, is enough to push you through the edge of pleasure. Legs shiver as your mouth stutters a moan, letting out a cry that Viktor drowned with his mouth.

“We can’t let the guards know what we’re doing, don’t you think, my jewel?”

“Why… why not?” you pant, kissing the mole peeking above his shirt’s collar. “My boyfriend fucks me so good,” you giggle.

Viktor smiled, his cock twitching at your lewd words. Your walls keep squeezing him, greedily wanting to be soaked with his cum.

"I haven't yet today," Viktor hums, deep in thought, kissing your sweaty brow. “Let me finish revising this blueprint, and we’ll go home.”

You pout, but only another heated kiss is necessary to make you respond:

“Okay,” you say, all doe-eyed now that you’re satisfied. Momentarily, of course. And that you had convinced him to go home. “But only this one blueprint. Or I’ll bite you.” You try to stand up, Viktor’s hand yanking you back between his legs before his cock could sleep out from your pussy.

“I never said you could move, my love,” Viktor says, squeezing your hips playfully. “I’d take you can be a good girl while I finish my work?”

You shake your head. “No.”

Viktor chuckles, his free hand starts to rub your overstimulated clit once again. His other hand quickly drops his pen to reach the bottom drawer of his desk, where you can see the outline of the vibrator Viktor keeps there ‘just in case’. “I suppose I just have to tire you up, then.”

#arcane viktor x reader #viktor arcane x reader #viktor x reader #viktor smut #arcane viktor fanfic #viktor arcane #viktor x f! reader

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undiscovered-horizon · 1 year ago

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Die Happy - Sanji x Reader

SUMMARY: Sanji is disillusioned about your lack of interest in him. Someone like you could pick and choose among princes, kings and emperors. What's a measly cook to you? Nevertheless, his lovesick heart continuously rejoices when you choose him to waste time with.

WORDCOUNT: ~ 1.3k

Enjoying my work? You can leave me a tip on Ko-Fi

Part 2 -> "Maelstrom"

Sanji has never believed in ghouls, witches, faeries and the like. However, when he met you his belief began to shatter:

Like a dark sorceress covering the whole world with a curse, you lured all the influential, important men like fire does moths. At first, Sanji fooled himself that all those generals, merchants and noblemen only wanted something pretty to hang onto their shoulders but reality destroyed his comforting illusion when the said men offered riches most people couldn’t even fathom. If you asked them for an armada to sail to the Grand Line, they’d only ask what type of wood you’d prefer. Despite something akin to world domination lying at your fingertips, you always laughed those offers off, telling your powerful suitors that you would think about their words and get back to them.

Sanji once asked whether you’re truly considering marrying one of the generals or kings. Some more naive part of him hoped you’d say no. Alas, the truth, once again, was his adversary:

“Obviously!” you giggled at his silly question. “But I won’t marry the first one that offers me wealth and whatnot. First, I’d like to see all of my options and the world…” your voice trailed away as you vaguely pointed around the two of you. “Well, it’s a big place. Many more kingdoms to visit.”

But to his own demise, the cook was a fool unlike any other. He had no chance at winning your heart, no matter how much he’d try. Still, his untamable desire egged him on, whispering sweet songs of your grace. Even if he could taste your lips only in his imagination, he could do his best for you to have a reason to keep him around like a dog that begs for scraps at his master’s table.

Sanji knows he’s only hurting himself, only furthering his desperation when he makes you smile or earns a speck of your affection. Every dawn, he promises to free himself from your sorcery but when dusk comes and his left with the Moon, his only confidant, he realizes that he could never possess enough power to cut himself free from you. You’ve pierced his heart right through and if he pulls your knife out of his chest, he’s bound to bleed out and die. It’s better if he lets you have complete control over his mind and soul - it’s the only way he will make it out alive.

He’s left cold and lonely on that night. Soft, silver moonlight washes over him through the small porthole in the wall of his room. The sea is almost black at this hour of the night but it becomes a mystical sapphire when the Moon’s glow washes over the lazy waves making them glisten like pure diamonds.

Diamonds… maybe if he had diamonds, you’d see him as a man and not just a shipmate.

Quiet knocking on his door wakes Sanji up from his thoughts. Before he has a chance to get up and open the door or tell the guest to come in, the mysterious visitor enters out of their own volition.

Your tired face makes Sanji think about painting in museums - the ones all connoisseurs consider “classics” and “timeless”. The silk shirt you’re wearing looks not only awfully expensive but, which is much worse, to be a men’s size. Its hem ends right underneath your buttcheeks, threatening to expose your body should you lift your hands. In the darkness of his cabin, you appear as nothing beyond a phantom, a hallucination born out of desperation. And just like a ghost, you’ve come to haunt and torment him in the sweetest of ways; in a way only you can.

“What’s wrong, love?” he asks in a raspy voice. Sanji is doing a great job at appearing unaffected by your rather scantily clad form.

Carefully, you close the door behind you and walk towards him. Your skin glows when you step into the rays of soft moonlight pouring in through the porthole. Dishevelled hair, half-closed eyes and a slightly puffy face - Sanji has imagined you this way countless times but never actually seen. He can feel his body burning up, telling him to seize the opportunity, to wash you in the most charming and suave words he can think of.

“Nami kicks while sleeping,” you say quietly. “I swear to god my whole side is bruised at this point. Can I sleep with you?”

Sanji has to remind himself to breathe and to do so calmly. He’s cool, completely in control of himself. His mouth feels unbearably dry.

“‘Course you can,” he answers casually. With a swift move of his arm, he lifts the duvet. “Come on in.”

The pure bliss that suddenly appears on your face forces Sanji to take in a sharp, ragged breath. It’s an expression he also imagined one too many times when his desperation poisons his mind - not that he’s willing to admit it even to himself. He knows it’s wrong to even entertain a scenario in which you would grace him with such an enraptured face. Still, his will is not as strong as he often makes it out to be.

“Sanji, you are my salvation,” you tell him while getting under the covers with him.

“I know, love.”

It’s both strange and natural, the way your body fits his. As though the two of you have done it so much the memory of your muscles twists and turns your limbs to rest in the most comfortable and intimate way. The odd familiarity makes Sanji think that maybe in another lifetime this is how he always sleeps. He wishes he could find himself in that reality even for a second. Alas, it’s too far out of his reach.

“Damn, you’re really comfortable,” you mumble against his chest. Your hot breath makes him shiver. “And warm. I don’t think I’ll be going back to my bed.” A small grin of cosiness appears on your face - one that Sanji will never forget.

His broad chest and strong arm normally go unnoticed by you but now they’re like a fortress. And just like high stone walls are an unspoken promise of security and happiness, his firm hold on your body is a silent oath of a good night's sleep.

“Stay as long as you want,” he whispers back to you.

Maybe if you weren’t so exhausted, you’d notice that his words aren’t a statement but a plea. They’re the last thing you remember before drifting off to a restful slumber.

Your breathing slows down and gains a steady, shallow rhythm. Keeping you close to his chest, Sanji allows his hands to gently brush against your arm and back. His movements are feathery, almost fearful. He wouldn’t want you to wake up and change your mind about spending the night beside him - he can indulge in his heart’s desire but he must do so carefully.

“If you only gave me a chance,” he whispers into the night.

Knowing you’re asleep and bound to remain ignorant of his affections, Sanji kisses the top of your head. His lips linger against your hair while he takes in the scent that haunts him day and night. Unknowingly, his grip around your body tightens at that moment as though he has suddenly grown most terrified of having you disappear. Too many nights he’s dreamed of this exact scenario only to wake up to a cold, empty bed.

When the dawn arrives and you leave his arms, this little moment of affection won't mean anything to you. It means nothing now. Sanji knows this very well. He doesn't try to lie to himself that maybe you'll wake up a changed person and finally see him as more than a friendly comrade. Although tonight means nothing to you, it holds an unspeakable weight to Sanji, who will forever gloat about the fact that when you needed help, it was him you turned to. It was his arms that guarded your sleep for a few hours.

Fighting off sleep until he collapses, Sanji revels in the feeling of you against his body and pretends, even if for one night, that you’re his the same way he will always be yours. Watching you sleep cuddled into him, he swears he could die happy now.

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moineauz · 11 months ago

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જ⁀ 𝐀𝐁𝐈𝐃𝐄 in me as I 𝐀𝐁𝐈𝐃𝐄 𝐈𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔

side comments: wanted to write for our Nanook and Yaoshi some spoilers of course, violence, Nanook's is kinda dark, reader is known to be the 'arbitrator' or 'mediator.

Whenever a tale, record or paper regarding the elusive and ancient Aeons of the vast cosmos, you, the Arbitrator always weave into each battle, dispute and archive.

You unified and ruled each contestation and difference and have lingered amongst the Aeons yet was never considered one yourself: like a fine mist braiding through the folds of the universe, unravelling and sewing it together.

And by 'it', you meant the Aeons.

While the Aeons were born and bound to the ideologies they arose from with a passionate frenzy, you merely existed- and for what purpose? Historians debated if you were a presence higher than that of Aeons: a mystic authoritarian figure whose one wave or snap of their fingers would bring an undisputed settlement, like a court judge.

However, others consider you to be less of a judge and more of a mediator. A force that ensures the Aeons keep within their bounds and do not screw the universe over entirely. Some reckon that you are an Aeon whose gaze never spared a glance. There are even theories that suggest that Lan is your pupil of sorts. In addition, some pay no mind to you at all in the grand ever-present scheme of Aeons and their ploys.

Regardless of what myriad debates, theories or conjectures rise among devout followers, skeptics, historians and the average being, an indisputable fact remains. No matter the conflict, you are always found amongst the lines in the story or perhaps only mentioned at the very end. A peculiar and reiterating occurrence that even a child could predict.

Alas, only the Aeons themselves will know who you are to them

𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐎𝐊 - the destruction

Nanook believes you are a nuisance at best. However, you choose your disputes carefully and at times, unpredictably.

Out of every Aeon you have come between, Nanook is by far the one seen most often.

Behind your back, they scoff at mentioning of your name and title and more so at the Aeons who share an ounce of respect for your inexplicable ability or deem you a 'peacemaker'.

However, your trait of never showing favour towards one Aeon or another is like a double-edged sword.

Nanook could hardly recount the myriad amount of times they had benefited from your mediation.

What dumbfounds Nanook is that beings think of you as powerful.

You quite frankly aren't, you're simply a 'good talker.'

And they loathe that.

You know their mind and toy with it, rendering with their plans only for them to alter it. You thrive on their vexations and revel in the might of their aggravation and disgust. Instead of annihilating sparks of life, you force them to cherish it within the palms of their savage hands.

Do you find pleasure in their abhorrence? Seeking it out for laughter's sake?

Nevertheless, Nanook knows you are not shallow or in any resemblance towards Aha.

In addition, Nanook knows you are neither a peacemaker nor a chaos-bringer.

There are moments when you come to Nanook and observe them acutely; having experienced your prying eyes for millennia, they remain steadfast and silent in your presence. Only then can Nanook appreciate you, not for your skill, however, for a delectable and insatiable opportunity to deliver their final gift to humanity: destruction.

For now, Nanook will reign havoc on the planets you grow fond of while quietly vying for a sliver of your attention in hopes of ultimately standing victorious in the eternal game of interastral tug of war.

Perhaps Nanook will then adore you for all the delight you brought to a now, empty universe.

𝐘𝐀𝐎𝐒𝐇𝐈 - the abundance

Yaoshi believes you are in mortal terms: ‘god sent.’

In comparison to Nanook, Yaoshi does not harbour ill will.

On the contrary, they are fascinated by you.

Why do you come between the Aeons? Do you have preferences? What pleases you?

Yes, there are times when you settle disputes and foil the plans of The Abundance. However, it does not matter! Yaoshi will continue to spread the blessings of eternal life and never-ending spings out into the universe while they watch you from afar.

However, the Aeons are selfish, cunning and self-absorbed. They will gladly swallow any opportunity that comes their way. Hence, Yaoshi's 'curiosity' grows beyond the confines of the word itself.

If you can thwart the plans of Nanook- what else can you do?

Yaoshi admires the growth and sprouting of life from their fingertips: how a flower blossoms vibrantly, staying in said form for eternity.

Thus, Yaoshi can only lick their lips and quell their ever-growing hunger.

What wonder would it be to see you bloom and bring waves of life with a mere sway of your arms or snap of your finger? Worlds can be born and no harm shall tread upon the universe- such a reality can now be achieved...

For now, Yaoshi will whisper sweet words of praise in your ear like honey; gradually drowning you in each sugary drop until they can dress you up in whatever they may fancy. You'll be the star of the universe, you'll be the epitome of ardency and everlasting life. Worshiped and praised: the universe will string together songs of your benevolence!

Alas, Yaoshi must limit their daydreaming... work must be done to accomplish their ultimate dream and it has only just begun.

masterlist

I might do a part two with the other Aeons... probably Lan and Xipe. I honestly wanted to get this out of my drafts.

#honkai star rail #honkai star rail angst #honkai star rail x reader #nanook x reader #nanook #yaoshi #yaoshi x reader #hsr x reader #hsr fanfic #the abundance #astral express #trailblazer #writing ᝰ.ᐟ

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qqueenofhades · 6 months ago

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re your tags on that last post, you could say he was...biden his time

BA DUMP TSHH.

I think that everyone, having gotten through the initial 24 hours of rage, fear, terror, confusion, anger, and frustration, is coming around to the idea that this was possibly a good thing and has undoubtedly given the Democratic ticket a much-needed jolt of energy. There are still all the very valid conversations to be had about the sway of a tiny group of billionaire donors, the media and Anonymous Democratic Sources bullying, the decision to torch Biden when they could so easily (so! easily!!!) have done it to Trump at any time and have clearly decided to go FULLY into the tank for him instead. This has many worrisome implications for democracy, and it's not something to be celebrated. All of that is still very much true.

However, now that we have had concrete evidence of the party immediately cohering around Kamala and the grassroots donors busting down the door to give her money, it may also turn out that this was a very wise political jiu-jitsu move by a very crafty political veteran like Biden. As the post I just reblogged pointed out, he did it AFTER the GOP convention, when the Republicans had already locked in (by any reasonable metric) a terrible, terrible ticket. It makes the Democrats look like the ones responsive to the American people demanding a younger and more mentally "with it" candidate (no matter how obvious the slurs about ageism were in regard to Biden when Trump is literally THREE YEARS YOUNGER and far more obviously scrambled). It opens all the excitement and historic firsts of Obama in 2008, it gives the perfect "Prosecutor vs. Felon" tagline that's really easy to run with and stick in people's minds, it is beautiful revenge for all Trump's horrible sexist behavior in 2016 (and really, his whole life) and it gives the Democrats the narrative, if they can FUCKING STICK TOGETHER AND STOP STABBING EACH OTHER IN THE BACK. Now we get to hear about Kamala's running mate, Kamala's plans, feel-good pieces about how she appeals to youth, women/people of color, etc. etc. ALL THAT IS GOOD.

I think/hope the DNC will now be a massive celebration of Biden, who after all came out of retirement when he was already old to take on Trump, beat him, deliver an incredibly successful presidency, and pass the torch on to Kamala. I saw some criticism of Obama yesterday for not endorsing her immediately, but what I read is that he/the other Democratic big beasts (Pelosi, Schumer, etc) want to be a uniting figure with an endorsement of the final candidate, if there was a contested primary beforehand. Thank fuck, it doesn't look like there will be, but it also means that they might wait until the DNC before openly endorsing her. Now, I am still angry at the Biden knifing that all these three were complicit in to some degree, BUT I also have no doubt that if/when Kamala is confirmed as the nominee, they will line up behind her to endorse her and her VP pick. I have seen Mark Kelly, Roy Cooper, etc as possible picks (since alas, she will probably have to pick a straight white man; Kelly would be replaced in the Senate by Democratic AZ governor Katie Hobbs; Cooper is term-limited as governor in NC and might help us target that state for a flip). But what is number one most important is that we support her and whoever she DOES choose. I have also heard that she is already in the process of vetting picks and this is exciting news.

I am thrilled to vote for a woman for POTUS the second time in a few years, I think she has a real shot at winning, and I am heartened by how the base has rallied to Kamala in 24 hours. Let's fucking go. As my new office decoration says:

#bad-scary-like-war-and-bears #ask #politics for ts #kamala harris 2024 #vote for kamala harris #give kamala harris money #talk to your friends about voting for kamala harris

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thebramblewood · 6 months ago

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Everyone say congratulations to the new uncle! Thank you @itcrescentcrow for your lovely Veronica Aurelius, whose story inspired me to have Vlad start a vampire family of his own (for entirely unspiteful reasons, I'm sure).

P.S. Join the fan club if you haven't already!

Previous / Next

Caleb: [startled] Jesus Christ!

Vlad: [wryly] Guess again. I couldn’t help noticing you’ve acquired a new… houseguest. That girl is freshly turned. She has all the grace of a newborn colt. Your sister’s latest plaything, I presume?

Caleb: How many times have I told you I’m not interested in indulging your desire for gossip? Anyone with a modicum of social grace would have taken the hint by now.

Vlad: [continues, unruffled] The curious thing is I’ve seen her before, the girl, at your insipid little gathering of hedonists in the spring. Her cheeks were much rosier then, as I recall. I’m surprised Lilith offered her the dark gift so soon — or at all. Does she not expect to grow bored of this one? Or, I wonder, did something not go precisely according to plan?

Caleb: [defensively] Lilith didn’t turn her. She nearly killed her. I did it to save her life.

Vlad: [amused] Always the humanitarian, you — though it is strange you would choose to burden another with an existence you clearly detest. But I must admit I’m impressed. I wasn’t sure you had it in you. Frankly, I rather thought you’d be dead or driven to madness by now. [sighs stagily] At any rate, I wish you luck. If you’re hoping to raise her in your image, you’ll need it. I can’t imagine Lilith will surrender her easily. Alas, I must go. There are other matters-

Veronica: [snarls aggressively]

Caleb: Who are you?

Vlad: Manners, darling.

Veronica: Sorry, Uncle Vlad. My dinner almost got away from me.

Vlad: [strangely paternalistic] Isn’t she a marvel?

Caleb: Uncle Vlad?

Vlad: This is my niece, Veronica. Well, cousin several times removed, but that’s such a mouthful. I’ve been trying to introduce her for some time.

Caleb: I must have mistaken that for your usual garden variety creeping.

Vlad: We have a common ancestor in my maker, though the bloodlines diverged centuries ago and hers was thought to be quite diluted. You see, after generations of tamping down their vampiric nature, their powers had largely grown dormant. But Veronica is special. She tells me her dreams led her to me. Can you believe it? [chuckles] I haven’t dreamed since I was mortal. At any rate, I’ve taken her under my wing. I have much to teach her, and she is an eager pupil.

Caleb: Good… for you.

Lilith, looking out on them from the window: He has a WHAT?!?

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thehandsresisthim · 7 months ago

Text

“mellow matters”

contains: smut, sub!mello, sub!matt, mean dom!reader, matt gives mello a handjob, reader is mean, all three of you are in a relationship, bondage (handcuffs), edging, kinda long-term orgasm denial ig

word count: ~1.100

“F-fu-uhhh… fuck y-you both!” the blond man currently resting his head on your chest yells, a desperate tone in his voice.

Your other boyfriend just smiles. “That’s not going to happen anytime soon.” he states plainly, a lazy grin on his face.

Mello growls as Matt continues his lazy strokes; up-and-down, all over his sensitive dick, but way too slow to offer any relief. It’s been a while now, and Mello feels… sticky. His pre has been leaking, and Matt's relentless abuse on his cock has spread the milky white fluid all over his stomach and thighs, too.

You gently push some of the golden blond hair from Mello’s face - not like it’s going to do anything with how much he’s shaking - but still, he leans into your touch.

“You’re so pretty, Mihael.” you say in a sugary tone. Mello practically preens, ignoring the pressure on his dick for a second.

“T-thanks…” he says, sounding almost vulnerable and surprised. But he snaps back to his usual self in just a second, “I-I know. You’re not the first person to notice.”

“It’s good that you know. You’re my pretty boy. My little sweetheart…” you say and run your fingers over his neck, feeling his pulse.

“Mmh…” Mello mumbles in response and nuzzles his head into your chest. Although you can’t see it - he gives Matt a triumphant smile, his eyes glinting. ‘I’m getting more attention!’ is what Mello’s smile seems to say.

Matt responds by squeezing his head particularly harshly. Within a second, Mello pushes his hips up as he loudly moans.

“Mello,” you say, and pull your comforting hand away from his neck, “didn’t we agree that good boys don’t push their hips up? Don’t good boys stay still?”

Mello squints his eyes and turns his head to look at you. His right arm twitches - he wants to point an accusing finger at Matt - but the cuffs around his wrists stop him.

“‘S his fault. Matt…”

“His fault? Mello, you’re responsible for what your body does. Surely, an intelligent, smart boy like you can control his slutty little hips, right?”

“S-shut up! I… I will.” Mello protests, as he gives you an annoyed glance.

“I’m sure you can, my pretty darling.”

Matt chuckles. “But you’re still not going to cum tonight.” he says, voice raspy and breathy, “master has already told me that you’re not allowed.”

The blond man groans in response, eyes flickering with panic for a second. Matt grins at him, his eyes glazed over as he continues his relentless stroking.

Mello throws you a dirty glare, now, all affection gone from his eyes.

“Do you- seriously-“ he stutters, eyes narrowing as he attempts to fight the restraints.

You just give Matt a very pissed off lock. “I just told Matt that he is not allowed to give you any release.”

You gently wrap your arms around Mello, and carefully play with his hair. “I will make you cum later, don’t worry.”

“Regarding Matt, however…”

The redhead has the audacity to continue smirking, still looking lazy and downright unbothered at the fact that you’re probably not going to be so nice to him now.

You affectionately kiss Mello’s neck, just below his right ear. He relaxes a little - but it’s still obvious that Matt has gotten to him.

You decide to throw him a bone.

“Mello, why don’t you choose how I’m going to punish Matt?”

The blond man nods eagerly, and he slowly seems to calm down. “Matt… Matt has t’ make me… make me cum.” he says in an eager tone. “With his mouth.”

You smile and kiss Mellos neck again. Although making the other cum is hardly a punishment - certainly not the punishment that Matt was expecting - you decide to let it slide. But, alas, Mello is not done talking.

“Want ya’ to make him touch himself. And then n-not let him cum.”

You smile. “What a clever boy you are. Matt, you heard him. Make him cum. And - be good.”

With a groan, Matt moves around so that it’ll be easier for him to reach Mellos cock. He starts by gently blowing air on it.

“Hurry the fuck up!” Mello immediately complains.

“Mello. Be nice.” you chastise and gently run your fingers through his hair as the blond man wails. Matt starts to lazily lick Mellos head, slurping up the sticky pre which seems to be everywhere around his throbbing cock.

The blonde shakes in his restraints, and you can tell that he won’t last long - Matt’s earlier, lazy strokes have made him very sensitive.

“‘m close, master! Thank you…” Mello whines out. You smirk as he thanks you instead of Matt - a subtle reminder that both powerful, intelligent men have chosen you, trust you, to dominate them.

High-pitched whines and moans are the only sounds leaving Mello’s mouth as the redhead makes him cum, and gently suckles him through his high.

For a second, it looks like Matt is planning on overstimming poor Mello, but a stern glare from you is enough to make him obediently let go of Mello’s now slowly softening cock.

You run your fingers through Mello’s hair and then slowly sit up. “I’ll get a washcloth for you to clean you up a little, hmm? We’ll shower later.”

He nods meekly and closes his eyes.

“As for you,” you command and glare at Matt, using the strict tone you know he adores, “you can stroke yourself whilst I care for Mihael. No cumming.”

Matt smirks and gets to work - using the residue of Mellos pre as lube, his hands stroking his neglected dick.

You walk over to the bathroom and grab what you need, and then gently clean up Mello. You help him get dressed in boxers, an oversized t-shirt (taken from you - you know he loves the familiarity and comfort of wearing your clothes) and loose sweatpants.

“You feel better, sweetheart?” you ask and he nods.

You help tuck the blonde into bed and watch as he closes his eyes, nuzzling into the pillows. “Love ya’,” he mumbles. You smile and ruffle his hair, then walk back to focus on the redhead who’s currently avoiding your eyes.

“What do we say when we’ve misbehaved, darling?” you ask teasingly as you gently tilt his chin up.

“Look into my eyes. Matt.”

He bites his lip and gazes up at you.

“m’ sorry.” he murmurs, slurring his words.

“Apologies, Matt, I don’t think I heard you.”

“I’m sorry…” he says, still quieter than usual.

“You’re not cumming tonight. I’m sorry.”

Matt whines and tugs on your shirt, as if that could change your mind. “B-but why… I-I-… please…”

You glare at him and he avoids your eyes. “Take a cold shower. If you’re lucky, I’m touching you tomorrow.”

Thank you for reading my fic! Check out my master list for more of my writing. Likes and reblogs are always appreciated ❤️

#death note x reader #death note x y/n #mello x reader #mello x matt #matt x reader #sub mello #dom reader #sub character #sub!character #dom!fem!reader #dom!reader #sub matt #death note smut

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ddarker-dreams · 2 years ago

Text

Hedonist.

Yan Chrollo x F Reader x Yan Feitan.

Continuation of Declawed.

Warnings: Not SFW, dubcon (Reader is under the influence of aphrodisiacs), yandere themes, unhealthy relationships, unbalanced power dynamics. Word count: 7.5k.

You are in a room with four walls.

How you got here does not matter. You know you may not leave.

Behind a closed set of drapes lies a window.

In this room with no past or future, there is but one choice you can make.

Will you peer beyond the curtains or leave them drawn?

For if you choose to look, there is no telling what you may see.

…

“... [First].”

“Hm?”

You’re someplace different than where your mind alleged. This is not your coveted room with four, blank walls, where no one can come or go. You’re sitting at a dining room table that tilts too far to the left. There’s an untouched meal in front of you, a cup of tea that’s gone cold, and a napkin folded over your lap just the way you prefer.

A man sits across from you — Chrollo Lucilfer. He’s staring at you, his fingers steepled, and his body leaning forward. His meal has long been finished. You blink, feeling like a computer that’s booting back up. The fog covering your senses lifts too slowly for your liking. Eventually, a blueprint of your surroundings solidifies in your mind.

There are three people in the surrounding area, excluding yourself. Two are a formidable threat. One is not.

“You seem distracted,” Chrollo’s voice gives nothing away. His eyes do though, just a little bit. Concern? Intrigue? You cannot pinpoint where each ends and begins. “That’s unusual for you.”

You hate when he’s right. “I’d pay more attention if you said anything worthwhile.”

His lips quirk up. “Is your health not worthwhile?”

He’s got you where he wants you.

“If you’re truly concerned about my health, then you’ll return my Hatsu,” you maintain unflinching eye contact. He exhales through his nose, belying slight exasperation. “The events of today should prove I’d do better with it from the onset.”

“In emergencies, yes. And I did return it. Long enough for you to dispatch the threat… and to hurt Feitan’s feelings, evidently.”

You ignore his last comment, seriously doubting its authenticity.

“One of the threats, at least,” you make a show of looking him up and down. He sighs, probably heavier than he intended, the chaotic past twenty-four hours undoubtedly weighing him down. Sensing that this particular conversation is better off over, he reclines back into his chair. Instead of mirroring his posture, you cross your legs, fold your gloved hands together, and rest them on your lap. You’re doing everything within your power to give the impression nothing is amiss.

Alas, that couldn’t be further from the truth. Something is very, very wrong with you.

It all began with an ambush on the car ride to this safe house. Assassins are par for the course in your line of work, it wasn’t your first encounter and you doubt it’ll be the last. The main problem was that for the first time in your life, you were fighting without your Hatsu in a situation that would’ve strongly benefited from its use. The group focused their attention on you and the Manipulator must’ve met his conditions for his ability to activate. A strange sensation swept over and temporarily debilitated you. Chrollo was quick to notice how you staggered — truthfully, you played it close to the chest to see if he’d risk returning your Hatsu should you be in mortal peril — a gamble that did and didn’t pay off.

It felt like a piece of your soul had been returned to you. Your conjured sword sliced down your three pursuers, they were entirely caught off guard by its appearance. That left you without about a second to retaliate with your briefly returned arsenal until Chrollo realized what you were planning. Ideally, you would’ve preferred to attack Chrollo, since your win condition lay in either killing him or removing his ability to conjure Bandit’s Secret. He was aware of this and kept just enough distance for that very reason.

It had been Feitan who risked getting the closest to prevent the assassins from doing you any major harm in light of your lackluster dodging. Both he and Chrollo must’ve recognized what you were trying to do and likely considered you more of a threat than the assassin trio. You tried not to be obvious about your intentions, but they’re too sharp.

The second long window you had felt like more than enough to seriously injure Feitan. While your physical strength had been on the lower side compared to the other Troupe members, you were faster; far outclassing the others in that particular skill set. This boon came with its own share of disadvantages, such as your tendency to tire faster in a fight if it dragged on for hours. However, you were finally in a uniquely advantageous position. You had conserved your strength in case an opening presented itself, and although it almost landed you in hot water to not go all out against three opponents, it ultimately worked in your favor.

You lunged forward at Feitan with what should’ve been a definitive strike. The speed was there, but the power was not; the Manipulator’s unknown ability weakened you far more than you’d anticipated. It was only recently that you realized his Nen must’ve strengthened in death. It felt mostly inconsequential when you first experienced it; you didn’t think to leave the Manipulator alive as a safeguard.

Feitan withstood the hit with some minor injuries. Your Hatsu no longer heeded your call, proof that Chrollo had taken it back. You were subdued, Feitan being far rougher than necessary and grumbling under his breath. For the past few hours, you’ve refocused all your energy toward keeping whatever that Manipulator did to you under control without giving your captors a glimpse of your weakened state. This control is steadily waning. Meditation aided you for a time, but you can tell it's growing in intensity, hence your current predicament.

Your body’s temperature is steadily rising. At first, you hypothesized the ability is supposed to make you mortally ill, but your gut tells you that isn’t the entire picture. Aside from feeling warm and not having all your strength, you don’t believe you’re knocking on death’s door. The symptoms don’t point toward anything that serious. It’s almost as if it made you want something — there’s this primal craving inside you, trying desperately to claw its way to the surface.

Whatever you’re currently riddled with, it's excruciating. You don’t know how much more you can take or how to put a stop to it.

There had been a fourth party whose tracking ability led the assassins to you in the first place. After watching his comrades get eviscerated, his Zetsu wavered, giving away his position. Feitan is playing with his new toy in the basement. It’s been in the back of your mind that this fourth man might know the Manipulator’s ability. That’s why you’ve been so desperate to keep the extent of your malaise under wraps, lest Feitan learns something imperative and keeps you in the dark about it. It’ll ultimately be Chrollo’s decision, but you know they’re both not happy with your little stunt earlier. If they learn it’s nothing too detrimental, they’ll let you suffer through it as a punishment.

“May I be excused?” You inquire with the politest tone you can muster.

Chrollo motions to your untouched plate. “You haven’t eaten.”

You knew this would be a point of contention. Not due to any rampant concern on his part, you both know that you’re capable of surviving without food for long periods. He’s just using this as an opportunity to see what’s truly wrong with you — he has to have his suspicions by now. You glance down at your meal. Grilled chicken, leafy greens, and a scoop of rice. The ultra-healthy regiment that Chrollo knows you favor and Feitan complains about. You still remember the look the latter gave you when you wrote chickpeas on the grocery list.

Lying is a useless endeavor when Chrollo’s involved, he can see past your poker face without issue. Telling the truth is your best bet. “I don’t have an appetite.”

He makes a show of looking at his watch. “You always have dinner at this time of day.”

“There’s nothing I can do if I don’t feel hungry now. I’ll eat it in the morning.”

You know how he loathes food being wasted and try to redirect his attention toward that. This time, you phrase it as a statement rather than a question. Chrollo gives you a long, silent look. His gray eyes pick you apart without any subtlety. He parts his lips, preparing to say something, when his attention shifts elsewhere.

A blur comes flying your way. From reflex alone, you catch it. A first aid kit? Feitan stands at the kitchen doorway where it must’ve been thrown, wearing a black sleeveless shirt. You stop yourself from frowning. You should’ve been able to sense his presence. Any other time, doing so comes as easy as breathing, but your senses are off-kilter. You can only hope that the ease with which you caught the first aid kit covered this blunder.

Considering the weight of Chrollo’s stare, that might be a far-fetched dream.

“Fix this,” Feitan nods at the untreated gash on his right arm, courtesy of your earlier attack. Cutting any synovial hinge joint would have proved helpful, especially against a swordsman like Feitan. Seeing the wound up close shows your aim was slightly off. The attack landed too low on his forearm. You can’t remember the last time you made a mistake like this — it must’ve been back when you were a child. If it weren’t for that Manipulator’s ability, you would be in a far better situation right now.

The chair scrapes against the floor when Feitan pulls it out. Not seeing the point in making his mood worse, you wordlessly take the steps to comply with his demand. You go to the kitchen sink, remove your leather gloves, and wash your hands. The cool water running over your skin feels heavenly. However, you notice a damning detail while you dry yourself off.

Your hands are shaking.

You don’t stare at the impending problem so as not to draw unwanted attention. Your body's homeostasis is deteriorating faster than you can manage it. Or, to be more accurate, the ability’s strength must be advancing over time. Any half-decent Nen user should be capable of controlling their body temperature, respiratory rate, blood pressure, and heart rate, or else your aura suffers. You’ll have to pick your poison here. If you focus mostly on your hands, you should be able to stop the shaking for a time. Consequently, that’ll leave your fever unchecked.

You need to get this over with quickly.

After putting on surgical gloves and a mask, you situate yourself next to Feitan.

“Planning operation?” He asks, amusement in his voice.

“This is far from a sterile environment. I’m taking the necessary precautions to prevent an infection,” you soak a gauze pad in saline solution then dab it against his wound. You’re glad the mask is covering half your face, since you’re unable to stop yourself from frowning. Beating yourself up over your past mistakes won’t do any good, yet you can’t help feeling mildly disappointed seeing your botched work up close. Who knows when you’ll get an opportunity like that again?

You’re about to wrap it in a bandage when Feitan speaks up again. “Need stitches?”

Your fingers twitch despite yourself. He’s intentionally trying to rile you up. You won’t let him.

“... No.”

He snickers, his eyebrows rising, adding to his air of condescension. “Why?”

“It’s too shallow of a cut.”

“Heh.”

What a bastard. You momentarily consider the merits of stabbing him with one of the needles in the kit. The temporary satisfaction wouldn’t be worth the trouble it’d cause you later on, you decide. You’ve endured several torments from Feitan up until this point without ever acknowledging his efforts. Truthfully, you don’t understand what exactly it is Feitan wants from you. Chrollo is easier to understand in that one aspect. Your (former?) boss wants your relationship to return to what it was before — he said so outright using words sweet enough to make your teeth ache.

Feitan has been far less forthcoming with his motivations. He barely talks to you aside from scathing remarks, doesn’t sleep in the same room as you and Chrollo, and frequently goes missing for days at a time. All you have to go off of is the conversation he had with Chrollo the night you gave up your Hatsu in return for Ash’s safe passage. He said he was ‘interested’ in you. It was Chrollo he told this, so you know he wouldn’t lie. He couldn’t have been vaguer if he tried.

Did he mean ‘interested’ sexually? Romantically? It’s no secret that Feitan is a sadist, but he’s never made passes at you. You don’t think he’d be the type to beat around the bush if he wanted something like that. You’ve caught him staring a few times yet always chalked it up to him thinking you’re about to pull a stunt. Then again, you’re entirely ignorant to whatever agreement Chrollo and Feitan have over you.

Outwardly, it looks the same as it’s always been. Chrollo gives orders and Feitan obeys them.

So why is it that your instinct whispers there’s far more to the dynamic than Feitan being an uninterested third party?

You secure a bandage around his forearm then turn away from him and Chrollo. It’d be nice if enduring the humiliation of tending to the subpar wound you inflicted is your entire punishment, but you somehow doubt that. You know your body well and your limits even better, loathe as you are to admit you have any. Exhaustion is nipping at your heels while the night is still young. The thought of lying down, even if it’s just for a few hours, sounds divine.

“I’m finished,” you tell Feitan, sensing his eyes on your back while you throw the mask and gloves away. “Was there anything else you needed?”

“Your hands. Show me.”

You stop turning the faucet on to spare him a glance over your shoulder. “May I ask why?”

“You can. Doesn’t mean I’ll answer.”

Your eyes flicker to Chrollo next, who has remained uncharacteristically quiet throughout this interaction. The closed-mouth smile he’s giving you promises nothing good. He knows you’re hiding something — they both know you are. They’re worse than sharks smelling blood in the water. You’ve been delaying the inevitable to the best of your abilities, but this game of cat-and-mouse can’t last forever.

Resigning yourself to your fate, you take a step forward, only for a bout of lightheadedness to come crashing down. You’re forced to grab the kitchen counter to steady yourself, the granite splintering beneath the intensity of your grip, crumbling to the ground in a noisy cascade. You swear you’re seeing double when you stare down at the ground, your heart rate accelerating and breathing turning erratic. Deep breaths are taken in an attempt to steady yourself.

Immediately, there’s a presence by your side, then a delightfully cold touch against your forehead. You try not to lean into it.

“Burning up,” Feitan remarks. He moves his hand back, and you almost keen at the loss, a factor that is as mortifying as it is perplexing. You tell yourself it’s because your body wants to regain proper equilibrium by cooling itself off. There can be no other explanation. You’re coming down with a fever, you’ll rest, and this will be over. Simple as that.

Chrollo makes his way over to you like he has all the time in the world, his countenance giving nothing away. “He was telling the truth, then?”

“Guess so.”

“What… what are you both talking about?” You inquire, all the while trying and failing to push yourself up. You, a person capable of wielding an ax that weighs 4,000 pounds with ease, can’t even stand up straight. It’s a miracle your legs haven’t given out beneath you yet.

“Feitan has been interrogating the man in the basement,” Chrollo reaches into his back pocket to grab something, a napkin, by the looks of it. He holds it up at your eye level. You blink, having to strain so that the word scribbled on it can come into focus. The messy handwriting must belong to Feitan. “I wanted to wait and see it for myself before believing him.”

You almost get sick when the word finally registers.

Aphrodisiac.

Feitan must’ve scribbled this note down and handed it to Chrollo. You weren’t in a good position to be perceptive of your surroundings, otherwise, you would’ve surely noticed.

Chrollo reaches out for you, his fingers settling beneath your chin and lifting it. Your eyelids flutter shut, the simple skin-to-skin contact exhilarating, made even better when his thumb brushes over your lower lip. He gives a content hum over your willingness to accept his touch for the first time in several months. It’s a surreal sensation — how your senses can be both heightened and capable of blocking out so much — your brain is unwilling to register anything aside from the men before you. You’re backed against the now broken countertop when Chrollo advances impossibly closer, his chest pressing against yours.

“You must’ve been suppressing it through sheer willpower all this time. I’m impressed,” he sounds like it too. “I hate to be the bearer of bad news, dear, but this won’t be going away on its own.”

Chrollo’s lips caress the shell of your ear, and his hands start creeping down your body while he speaks. “You need only say the word and we’ll satisfy you. Otherwise, it’ll progress to the point it’s unbearable. I don’t exactly enjoy watching you suffer, whether you believe me or not. So be a dear and—”

However he intended to end that sentence will forever remain a mystery. It stokes something inside you, rekindling the dying embers of your pride. Bloodlust radiates off you in tangible waves, cracking the glass of a nearby window. The miasma surrounding you is thick and potent. Harnessing the remnants of your strength, you press your hands to Chrollo’s chest, shoving him away with all your might. He stumbles back yet quickly steadies himself.

“Do not touch me,” you seethe, the words more of a growl than anything.

Aura envelops Feitan, who must be anticipating further resistance. The flow stops as soon as it begins when Chrollo puts a hand up to stop him. Silence loudly resounds in the tight quarters you’re forced to share with them. You feel akin to a cornered cat, hackles raised and teeth bared. There’s nothing practical you can do — it’s maddening to acknowledge that. You’re entirely at their mercy.

And you know neither of them have any to give.

Chrollo sighs, straightening the wrinkles on his shirt your outburst caused. “You’re making this needlessly difficult for yourself, [First].”

“Just… knock me unconscious until it subsides, or something,” you grit out through clenched teeth. The ghosts of Feitan’s touch against your forehead and Chrollo’s fingers upon your lips haunt you. It’s as if all levels of higher thinking ceased the second they came into contact with you. “I can’t… I refuse…!”

“Stubborn woman. Not normally this stupid,” Feitan clicks his tongue. “It’s Nen. Doesn’t work like that.”

You grip your head with your hands. It hurts. It’s hot. Lascivious need wraps its tendrils around you and squeezes. Your body is no longer heeding the orders of your mind. You can smell Chrollo’s cologne — sandalwood, amber — as well as the metallic scent of blood clinging to Feitan. You shouldn’t have pushed him away. You should’ve let him touch you, please you, satiate this voracious appetite that won’t go away on its own. It’s been so long, far too long. He said it wouldn’t go away on its own, didn’t he? How much longer can you fight it off?

More importantly, do you even want to fight anymore?

You take an unsteady step forward, your head hanging long, allowing for a shadow to fall over your eyes. Your hand reaches for Chrollo’s belt yet never meets its destination. An undignified noise leaves your lips as you’re scooped up, your cheeks burning and eyes shooting wide open. Your instinct is to struggle, but when you feel a hand press beneath your thighs to steady you, your brain turns to mush. The touch isn’t anything special, though your body acts like it is. You can feel an unnatural amount of wetness staining your panties. Consequently, you rub your thighs together, hoping to alleviate some of the desperate need for friction.

A deep, dark chuckle reverberates in Chrollo’s chest. “She’s precious, isn’t she, Fei?”

Feitan doesn’t confirm or deny, though you can feel his eyes boring into you. “Not mad at her?”

“That can wait for later. For now, though…” he trails off, his voice lowering in pitch and volume. “Aren’t you interested in savoring her to the fullest?”

You don’t remember the trip to the bedroom.

There’s the faint sound of rushed footsteps, creaky door hinges groaning, shoes being thrown aside, and the rustling of fabric. Your heartbeat rises to a crescendo when you’re placed on the bed, anticipation gnawing at you. The room is dripping with tension and a sick part of yourself relishes in it. You prop yourself up on your elbows only to find yourself getting pushed not so gently back down.

Feitan is leering at you from above, his eyes like that of a madman.

Not a word is uttered as you glare back up at him. Without his cowl, you can see every inch of his countenance, the cruel curve of his lips, and the upward incline of his eyebrows. There’s no time to dwell on the negative emotions such a feral stare instills, for you register movement coming from behind. Familiar toned arms wrap around your torso. Chrollo pulls you onto his lap, your back flush against his broad chest. His lips lovingly caress the shell of your ear, grazing the sensitive flesh with his teeth.

“Are you ashamed, [First]?” He taunts, his voice taking on a husky tinge. “A woman of your status offering herself over so willingly to two depraved men… I can’t fathom how bruised your ego must be.”

This compromising position must do something for him. You feel his hardened length poking at your ass, betraying his arousal.

“Neither of you are capable of harming my ego.”

You exhale sharply when he tugs your head back by your hair.

“Casuistry is unbecoming of you, dear.”

“Is that what that was…?” You trail off, trying not to show how good it feels when Chrollo latches his lips to your neck. “Are you so caught up in your own delusions that you fail to recognize this is about satisfying a biological function, not an expression of passion?”

You’re grateful for your high pain tolerance when Chrollo sinks his teeth into your skin, hard enough to leave a mark for the days that’ll follow. He lavishes his tongue against it afterward, his chest vibrating from a quiet chuckle.

“Talks too much,” Feitan grumbles. For a moment, you wonder if he's referring to you or Chrollo. “Gag?”

“Unnecessary. We wouldn’t want to miss out on the sounds she’s going to make, would we?”

This line of reasoning seems to satisfy Feitan. Unlike Chrollo, who treats undressing you as if it were a form of foreplay itself, Feitan is rough with your clothes. You’d almost think they offended him somehow. You wince at the sound of ripping. The black fabric covering your torso flutters to the side, revealing the swell of your cleavage. Perspiration clings to you in a thin sheen from your body’s meager attempts to cool down. You swear you hear Feitan’s breath shudder when his sallow fingers descend on your chest.

He’s far from gentle with his exploration of the soft flesh. He kneads and pulls, giving little heed to what you find pleasurable. Then his pointer finger and thumb find your nipple, visible through your nude-colored bra. A special sadistic delight is taken in twisting the nub and observing the subsequent parting of your lips in a high-pitched gasp.

“... Cute,” he comments. Your fingers twitch, indignation spurring you on to try and strike him, a rebellion Chrollo ends prematurely by holding your dominant arm in place. He uses enough pressure that you wouldn’t be surprised if the skin bruises in the shape of his hand.

“Now now, there’s no need to resort to violence, is there?” Chrollo’s voice is akin to nails on a chalkboard. The irony of a mass-murdering thief preaching this platitude isn’t lost on you.

Feitan quirks up an eyebrow when you jut your head to the side, your teeth clenching and cheeks burning. Damn them both.

“Ego hurt yet?” Feitan croons.

You recenter yourself to the best of your abilities, considering every cell in your body is screaming for a return to primal instinct. They’re both dead wrong if they think you’re going to roll over and take everything they dish out. Perhaps it’ll spell more trouble for you further down the line, but the logical side of your brain which normally dominates is waning. You wrench yourself forward with enough force that Chrollo has to lessen his grip on your arm, lest he dislocate it. Maybe there is some truth behind his earlier claim that he ‘doesn’t enjoy watching you suffer’, or maybe the lack of bloodlust clues him in that you aren’t up to anything nefarious.

Whatever the case, this momentum and easing up of your restraints grants the freedom to do what you plan next. Your hands, marred with dark lines along the veins from Corruption’s improper usage many years prior, hold Feitan’s face in place. His shock is evident by the lack of movement on his part when your lips press against his. Your clammy skin derives satisfaction from how unnaturally cold his body is.

This is the closest thing you’ve gotten to relieving the gnawing need that’s been threatening to devour you from the inside out.

In the millisecond it takes for him to comprehend what’s happening, he secures back what little power you temporarily held over him. His kiss is rough, demanding, and clearly inexperienced. You’re too far gone to care. You make a show of kissing him with every ounce of languid affection you once bestowed upon the man behind you, your head tilting to the side and back arching to press further into him. Something between a groan and a grunt leaves Feitan when your hand seeks out his clothed length, palming at it until it fully hardens.

This temporary rebalancing of power mixed with finally feeding the carnal hunger within you is invigorating, sending adrenaline through your veins. Feitan nips at your lower lip and you grant him access to your mouth. His tongue seeks out yours in a dance you never thought you’d willingly participate in. The world is fuzzy, an unintelligible string of blurred shapes and colors you can’t make any sense of. All that registers to you is an all-encompassing desire to succumb to lust’s bittersweet embrace.

Is this what it’s like to be drunk? Stuck in a pleasant haze where the slightest stimulation feels far better than it should, potential consequences be damned?

When you part for air, a thin trail of saliva connects you.

“Still wish to gag me?” You goad, unwilling to resist making a jab at his expense. He enjoyed that far too much for you not to sneak in a snide comment.

Feitan smirks. “Not with rag.”

He then looks to Chrollo, as if silently asking permission for something. Evidently, he must receive it, for the rest of your outfit is torn from your person. What would’ve irritated you in any other circumstance comes as an immense relief now. The heat enveloping you is stupefying. Cognition is overshadowed by a primal need you never could’ve thought yourself capable of. You’ll do anything to offset this unique torture, the likes of which you’ve never been forced to endure.

You’re left in nothing but your sheer black tights and bra, your chest heaving in a desperate bid to get enough oxygen. Sweat trickles down your temple.

Every inch of your body is so unusually sensitive, as if your nerve endings have multiplied. The science behind whatever the Manipulator’s ability did intrigues you. Did it decrease activity in your prefrontal cortex, making long-term planning near impossible? Excite the endocrine system in a way that encourages sexual arousal? Trick your brain into activating fight or flight if you’re not being stimulated?

The relationship between science and Nen has always fascinated you. Regrettably, you’re not in the headspace to conduct research. It’s growing increasingly difficult to form so much as a coherent thought.

Behind you, Chrollo undoes the clasp of your bra, revealing your chest in its entirety to both men. If there was ever any doubt that Feitan’s interest in you is lascivious in nature, his current expression dispels it. He looks at you like one would a piece of tantalizing meat. You never would’ve thought Feitan was sexually attracted to you by the indifferent air he normally held. In retrospect, you wonder if that was his way of trying to keep his impulses under control until the timing was right.

“Lift yourself up for me, dear,” Chrollo uses such gentle words, but his tone tells you this is an order. You do as he requests. From this angle, he’s able to help pull your tights down by the waistband. It’s a slow, tedious process; he acts as if he has all the time in the world, inching the delicate fabric down to reveal your thighs. You shiver when his fingernails scrape at your skin. It takes everything you have to hold back a sinful moan at the teasing contact.

“I hadn’t realized tights were so sacred to you,” you say. He had no objections when Feitan tore at the rest of your custom-tailored outfit.

You can hear the smile on his face when he replies, “There’s only this one pair, whereas we have other clothes for you. It’d be a shame to not see you in something that complements your features so well.”

“How very considerate.”

Feitan helps pull it off once it gets to your knees, using a degree of care you thought him incapable of. It must be because his boss willed the action. He spreads your legs without any resistance, his eyes fixating on your covered core. Evidence of your arousal seeps through. It’s a sight that causes Feitan to mutter something in his language that you suspect to be an expletive.

A silver streak soars through your vision. You go motionless, allowing Chrollo to slice through your panties with his Ben’s Knife.

You glare at him from the corner of your eye. “Are you trying to kill me? What strange paraphilias you’ve developed since we’ve last been intimate.”

“I was confident in your ability to stay still,” Chrollo’s fingers linger right above your clit, refusing to touch the one place you begrudgingly desire him most. “Besides, we both know a little poison wouldn’t put your life in serious danger. Give yourself more credit, sweetheart.”

The audacity of this man is astounding.

Chrollo spreads your folds for Feitan’s viewing pleasure.

“Isn’t she just lovely?” Chrollo practically purrs, his baritone voice causing goosebumps to erupt over your skin, despite the internal heat afflicting you. “You can touch her, Fei. She won’t bite.”

It’s an invitation he can’t turn down.

Without warning, two fingers are thrust inside you. You tense at the unexpected intrusion and have to tell your muscles to relax. Fortunately, there’s enough natural lubrication that it doesn’t hurt as bad as it could’ve. You suppose it should come as no surprise that the man with an affinity for torture isn’t tender in bed. He cackles at your visceral reaction, but you have no chance to retaliate, for he pulls his fingers back out and slams them back in. Dull discomfort quickly transitions to a deep, satisfying feeling. Chrollo further enforces it by finally rubbing precise circles just the way you like on your clit.

You squeeze your eyes shut and lull your head to the side. Digging deep into the recesses of your hazy mind, you try to block out who exactly is touching you like this, wanting to focus on the pleasure and nothing else.

Chrollo must have a rough idea of what you’re trying to do. He sighs, as if disappointed, grabbing your jaw and forcing you to face downward.

“Open your eyes, or we’ll stop,” he whispers. You bite down on your lower lip hard enough to almost bleed. “Oh, [First]. I know very well that you aren’t a prude. Come now. Don’t make me ask again.”

Your eyelashes flutter open like butterfly wings. From the position he’s holding your head, you have nowhere to look but at Feitan’s fingers slipping in and out of you, a lewd sight that makes you whimper. Maybe you’ll berate yourself for your weakness when you’re in a lucid mindset. For now, however, you’re starting to lift your hips to meet his relentless assault. You feel no better than a vacuous animal, yet embarrassment is the furthest thing on your mind. The word has been wiped clean from your lexicon.

With how sensitive your body is in this state, it doesn’t take long for that knot in your stomach to tighten. You’re panting, your head is thrown back, taking in each wave of overwhelming stimuli. Chrollo’s lips caressing your neck’s pulse, the friction on your clit, and Feitan’s fingers exploring your insides. It’s too much. The air is heady with the scent of sex, Chrollo’s cologne, and the metallic blood splattered on Feitan.

You’re so close, your walls clenching and the muscles in your thighs going taut—

—When they both abruptly stop.

Breathlessly, you murmur ‘wretched sadists’ in your native tongue.

“Him more so than me,” Chrollo replies. In your frustration, you forgot he was making good progress in learning your country’s language. Soon you won’t even have that to keep for yourself. He’ll have invaded every inch of your life and claimed it for himself.

Feitan brings his slick-covered pointer and middle finger close to your face. He parts them, observing the string of your arousal it forms with an amused expression.

“Needy thing,” he snickers.

He takes his fingers into his mouth, then gives a low hum, apparently enjoying your taste. When the digits slide back out, they’re coated in both his saliva and your essence. You grimace when he places them on your closed lips next, your obsession with hygiene temporarily triumphing over the aphrodisiac’s effects. Feitan frequently poked fun at how you wiped away blood and viscera should any have gotten on your person after a kill. You’ve never been partial to uncleanliness, although you could deal with it just fine when necessary.

Knowing Feitan, he’s likely getting off on your discomfort.

“Open,” he demands. You do with some reluctance, tasting yourself on your tongue. Your unusual obedience seems to please him. “Good girl.”

You narrow your eyes into slits then, warmth flooding your face. He’s the last person you’d ever want to give you a compliment like that. Condescension is an area that both Chrollo and Feitan excel in. Chrollo’s is often more subtle, taking a moment’s consideration to fully comprehend, whereas Feitan is cruelly blunt. You can’t decide which is worse.

The bed dips as Chrollo readjusts himself. Feitan moves to the side, giving Chrollo plenty of room to do whatever he wants with you next. Your former boss unbuttons his shirt and tosses it aside. His hands go to your shoulders, pushing in a silent communication for you to lay back. If it weren’t for the unfair condition you’re currently plagued with, you would’ve had some choice words at the ready. Especially when he strokes your cheekbone with the back of his knuckles, softly, as a lover would. You internally curse at how your traitorous body leans into his touch.

The distinct sound of Chrollo undoing his belt catches your attention.

After ridding himself of his remaining clothes, he lifts your left leg over his shoulder, an enigmatic gleam in his gray eyes. You feel his tip rub teasingly over your folds, gathering your abundant wetness. Proving to you just how desperately your body wants this — wants him. He’s trying to make a point. You imagine you must be quite the sight to him, all disheveled like this. Forcefully dragged out from your icy shell of propriety. Your hair which is normally styled in an updo is loose and forming twirls against the bed, your chest is rising and falling erratically, and your aura is a mess.

In this moment, you’ve essentially been reduced to a civilian.

You both let out content noises when he enters you. Your walls convulse around him, taking him in with ease, despite how long it’s been since you’ve had sex. It’s as if your body is telling you that it remembers him, no matter how hard you try to forget. In the dark of night, you sometimes wonder if Chrollo knows you better than you know yourself. He’s committed every little nuance about you to memory. Your preferences, likes and dislikes; he’s showcasing his mastery over you by providing the pleasure only he can.

You shudder when he fully sheathes himself inside you. It makes the aphrodisiac swallowing you whole slightly more bearable, quelling the fire just enough that you no longer feel you’re being burned.

Feitan lazily jerks himself off at your indecent expressions, breathing heavily as he pumps his reddened cock up and down.

“You’re a cruel woman, depriving me of this for so long,” Chrollo takes both your wrists in one hand and pins them above you. “I’ve longed for your body terribly, love. It belongs here — underneath me.”

By the way your face contorts, he must be able to tell that he won’t like whatever your reply will be, so he sets out to steal the air from your lungs. An undignified whimper leaves your lips at the rough pace he establishes from the onset. You’d almost think it was him under the influence of the aphrodisiac and not you. There’s no gradual, sensual buildup, just skin slapping against skin as he fucks you without mercy. You want to grab ahold of something, anything to steady yourself in the unforgiving onslaught of ecstasy, but his grip on you is unrelenting. Your limbs feel like jello, incapable of displaying your usual strength to break free from his hold.

Sensing your intentions, as he almost always does, he coos, “If you want something, then be a dear and beg.”

There’s a darkness in his voice that’s never been directed at you before. An underlying desperation. Chrollo craves you, longs for you, and you’ve denied him his greatest desire. He has no right to sigh and brood over your refusal to go back to how things were, before he betrayed your trust. You let him into your world. Granted him access to parts of yourself that have never seen the light of day, tentatively opened your heart bit by bit.

Only that alone couldn’t satisfy him. He needed more than your heart. Your mind, your soul, your body; your very being. And you weren’t willing to give him that. Not then, not now, not ever. So you purse your lips, glaring up at him with all the defiance you can muster in this weakened state.

He chuckles at the ferocity in your eyes, though it’s a humorless sound. Bitter, almost.

“My stubborn girl,” Chrollo whispers in your native tongue. “Try as you might, you’ll never be rid of me. I won’t even let you go in death.”

“I’ll— mm— have to test that theory.”

Something passes over his face then. Is it exasperation? Dismay? Hurt?

“Go ahead then,” he says. You’ve never seen this look in his eyes. “Do your worst.”

An odd sensation sweeps over you then. You furrow your eyebrows together, trying to place it, all the while Chrollo increases his speed. This is a phenomenon you’ve experienced and recently at that. It’s akin to puzzle pieces fitting together, everything falling back into its proper place. Then it hits you, the realization causing your eyes to widen and your breath to catch in your throat.

This bastard just returned your Hatsu.

You try (and fail) to lift your head. You can barely think straight, much less properly harness your mess of an aura. Being condemned to an eternity of hunger and thirst with food and drink receding from your reach would be preferable to this. It’s wicked; it’s Chrollo making good on his surname. His cock twitches inside you at your futile struggle. He hits a spot in you that makes you keen, you ruined orgasm from earlier growing closer and closer.

“What are you waiting for?” Chrollo challenges in between soft pants. “Have I rendered one of your country’s best fighters incapable of making a single strike? Hm?”

“That isn’t—” your own mewl cuts you off, “This is… not fair…!"

He shakes the hair covering his eyes so nothing can obstruct his current view. “I can’t be, darling. Not with you.”

If you didn’t know any better, you might think he sounds apologetic.

This is quickly disproven when his fingers find your clit and rub it just right.

When you come, it’s unlike anything you’ve ever experienced before. Your back arches into him, your lips part in a silent scream, and you manage to exert enough strength to free your hands from Chrollo’s grasp. You scratch your fingernails down his back, leaving angry red streaks in your wake. Chrollo curses under his breath in a rare instance, given his proclivity for formal speech. Your walls squeeze down on him like a vice.

His hips stutter and his grip on you becomes bruising. He nuzzles his nose into your neck, quietly moaning your name as if you were a deity; and he, your most devout follower.

Warmth floods your insides not long after, a seemingly endless stream of cum painting your walls white. Chrollo holds you in place, absentmindedly rubbing circles into the skin he just bruised, a satisfied smile on his lips. You feel him go soft inside you, yet he still makes no sign of pulling out. To add insult to injury, your Hatsu slips away like sand between your fingers, back into his wrongful possession.

Then thick ropes spurt across your tits, accompanied by something like a growl from Feitan. Seeing you come undone must’ve pushed him over the edge. He pumps himself to completion while you struggle to make sense of what just happened. What you just did.

The aphrodisiac is still active in your system, you can feel it clouding your senses and diluting your judgment. However, it’s far less potent than it was earlier. At its peak, it threatened to fray your sanity. What a dreadful ability. You regret killing the one who used it on you. Had he still been breathing, you would’ve flayed him alive for doing this to you.

Feitan must not be the pillow talk type. He’s quick to redress, slinking out of the room after giving you an additional once over. He smirks and then leaves you to the whims of his boss.

Chrollo places the back of his hand against your forehead. “Your fever’s gone down.”

You avert your eyes and he tilts his head.

“Don’t tell me you’re upset,” he comments, while finally pulling out. You feel his release seeping out in thick globs. “You would’ve been far worse off had we not intervened. Our guest in the basement can attest to that.”

When you stay stubbornly silent, he sighs your name. “I know your vocal cords are working just fine. Whatever it is you wish to say, say it.”

Your head snaps back so you can properly stare him in the eye. There’s a trembling of your lower lip that takes him aback, although he smooths his expression to one of indifference almost immediately. You aren’t the crying type. If anything, he’s probably cried more than you have in the time you’ve known him. He goes to wipe at your lash line, but you smack his hand away. The hit barely has any force behind it. Unexpectedly, he stills, his gaze boring down.

“I can’t believe I actually l—” you cut yourself off with a shake of your head. You’re exhausted, not thinking straight, and you probably won’t be able to move without help. Whatever lapse in judgment that almost caused you to admit an intimately held secret closes as soon as it opens.

Chrollo studies you. Whatever he feels then is a mystery, though you hope it cut him deep. Through flesh and sinew, down to the bone.

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” he eventually says. “I know you hate feeling dirty.”

When he lifts you up, careful not to aggravate the bruise on your person, you mull over a single question.

Did he change the subject for your sake, or for his?

#yandere chrollo x reader #yandere feitan x reader #chrollo x reader #feitan x reader #hxh x reader #hunter x hunter x reader #yandere x reader #yandere #reader insert #not sfw #dubcon #hell within reach #hell within reach yandere au #phantom troupe x reader #my stuff

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vivasciouslay · 2 months ago

Text

𝐉𝐄𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐘; Kai Hiwatari

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒: She forgot whom she belongs to, and Kai would gladly make her remember.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: 21+ SMUT. Name calling- Baby, Overstimulation, possessive!Kai, oral receiving!Fem, name calling, Kai being jealous, mentions of blood, virginity loss, slight ooc Kai

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: Kai Hiwatari x Reader.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆: Minors do not Interact.

𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄: this is my first smut. Please be kind on me y'all

Kai scowled.

Hard.

He knew he shouldn't get jealous. He was her good "Friend".

The Orange headed guy laughed, his turquoise eyes shining as they looked in the eyes of the girl in front of him, her mouth not stopping the chatter as they burst in another fit of giggle. Kai's eye twitched when draped an arm around her shoulders.

Looks like someone will lose an arm or two.

Kai had liked her from a long time. Long, long time- ever since the BEGA ended. She had joined the G-Revolutions to fight against Boris. After his own first Battle with Brooklyn when he returned, no one but his team accepted him with open arms, specifically Tyson.

She didn't knew him, but she too did.

'Every person strays from their path at some point or the other. It does not matter why they strayed, but what matters is that they came back on the right path.' that's what she had said to him.

Since then, she'd stuck to him. Even when he tried to push her, she stuck to him. Her sparklign eyes, her chiming laughter, her blooming cheeks, her sunshine personality.. after all the years-

He felt Joy.

True Joy.

But now as he saw her talking to Brooklyn - his arch nemesis, the man he despised from the depth of his heart - his heart burned.

While Kai glared darkly at the orange head and the girl in front of him, Ray was silently observing him. The Bladebreakers knew that Kai liked- nay, Loved her. It was obvious. Kai loosened up around her, and he had seen Kai giving one of his rare smiles on his otherwise grumpy face.

"They look good together." Ray violently shivered, but held back when Kai turned his glare from Brooklyn to him. "Pardon?" Kai's tone was quiet — but borderline pissed.

"I mean, look at them. She seems happy with him." Ray knew that egging Kai will cost him so much, last time he barely saved his beyblade when in one match he had called her beautiful, and Kai tore his beyblade in half.

"As if you know." Kai rolled his eyes. "I have a girlfriend." Ray snapped back, his fang poking out of his lip and Kai grouched. "Look Kai, you both have been dancing since long." Kai looked at Ray with corner of his mouth, and his back tensed when he saw Ray giving him that look.

The look he gives when he's very, as in VERY serious.

"Before Brooklyn — or anyone — proposes her, go and confess." Ray had turned to go. "Just know that she's in demand." Ray had said, choosing to walk away as he refrained from saying more.

Kai's eyes darkened and he took in her.

"Hey (Reader)!" She turned around, her eyes widening in curiousity when she saw Tyson jogging up to her. "Hey Takao," She smiled. She was one of the few people who called him and his Brother by Original name.

"Have you seen Kai?" Tyson asked and she blinked, heat rising up her cheeks. It was a known fact that she liked Kai. She loved that man, despite him being cold. She knew the struggles Kai had to face.

"No-no, I didn't. Why?" She said softly. She had seen Kai in morning, but somehow he had vanished after the noon. She searched for him entire time, and was wondering if Tyson knew but alas, he didn't knew.

"I was actually wondering if you can give these pancakes to him back home. Your house is on the same way he lives." Tyson said and a cheeky grin passed over his features before he handed the paper bag to Her.

And that's how she found herself in the posh flat owned by Hiwatari Kai. She mused, now realising that how lavish Kai's lifestyle was. Well, he was Grandson of Hiwatari Soichirou and heir of Hiwatari Enterprises.

She mused to herself, and looked around the posh Penthouse. The ceiling was very high, under which the Penthouse consisted of two floors. Huge glass windows overlooking the night of Tokyo, glimmering with many lights marvelled her. The soft, dim light of Kai's penthouse soothed her nerves, but she couldn't shake off the feeling of fluttery.

She had loved Kai. Ever since she laid her eyes on him, she loved him. Except she had found him beaten, battered, and near death. But the blazing fire in his eyes drew her in like a Moth, and even if he didn't love her.. she loved him.

And today, she was to confess.

Her thought process stuttered to stop, heat flushing down her neck and whole body when Kai walked out of his room — dressed in nothing but faded grey sweats. The slightly damp torso and the wet hairs told her that he had recently taken a shower.

Kai halted in his feet when he felt a new presence. He knew that if it was any of his teammates, they wouldn't be sitting so quietly. Tyson would be rambling non stop and hogging his Kitchen, Ray would have brought his little Kitten along with him, and Max would definitely have started television by now.

He whirled around and his eyes blinked rapidly when he saw her sitting silently, eyes wide, red from something he didn't knew, staring at him openly.

A smirk pasted on his face, and very unlike of himself he said, "Like what you see?" Oh he definitely loved the way she turned red.

"I- Oh- Um-" She stammered, pushing a lock of her shining hairs behind her neck. " came here to give you these." She flushed bright red. She hadn't really spoken to Kai, and he had never spoke like this to her.

Kai sauntered towards her and took the bag. "Tyson sent this?" He asked as he waved at her to come in Kitchen. She skipped from one foot to other, wondering if she should go in or not. Kai was being out of his character today. "Yeah, we saved some."

"Thanks for these," he muttered, crossing his arms as if to shield himself from her presence. He leaned against the wall, his usual composed demeanor crumbling in her warm, casual presence.

She turned to face him, a playful smile tugging at her lips. "It's no big deal, Kai. Thought you might need something sweet to brighten your night."

Kai’s chest tightened at her words. Sweet. That’s what she was—too sweet. Too kind. Too… oblivious. He couldn’t shake the image of her laughing with Brooklyn last night, sitting too close, sharing jokes only they seemed to understand. His jaw clenched at the memory.

"You didn’t have to come all the way here for this," he said, his voice clipped. His eyes flitted to the pancakes, then back to her, unsure whether to focus on her or avoid her entirely.

"Why are you acting so strange?" she asked, tilting her head, her voice a mix of amusement and concern. "Did something happen?"

"No," Kai replied curtly, pushing off the wall and walking toward the window. His broad back was now to her, a defensive shield against her curious gaze. He shoved his hands into his pockets, willing himself to stay calm.

She raised a brow, crossing her arms. "Really? Because you’ve been giving me the cold shoulder ever since I got here. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re mad at me or something."

Kai’s heart raced, her words cutting deeper than she likely intended. How could he be mad at her? She hadn’t done anything wrong—except spend the evening with Brooklyn, of all people. His stomach churned at the thought.

"Are you going to the ramen place with Brooklyn again tonight?" The question slipped out before he could stop it, his tone sharper than he intended.

Her brows furrowed in confusion. "Yeah, we do have plans for tonight." She affirmed.

Kai turned to face her, his expression guarded but his eyes betraying the storm within. "You shouldn’t go," he said flatly.

"Why not?" she challenged, taking a step closer. "What’s with you, Kai? Why do you even care?"

He looked away, the words he wanted to say stuck in his throat. "I just don’t think it’s a good idea," he muttered.

Her confusion deepened, and she searched his face for answers. "Is this about Brooklyn?"

Kai stiffened, his silence louder than any confession.

Realization flickered in her eyes, and she let out a soft sigh. "Kai, if you’ve got something to say, just say it. Otherwise, stop acting like a jealous child."

His face burned, the word jealous slicing through his defenses. He opened his mouth, but no words came. Instead, he turned away again, staring out at the cityscape, his silence screaming everything he couldn’t bring himself to admit.

She stared at Kai's rigid frame, frustration bubbling inside her. His silence felt like a wall, thick and impenetrable, and she was tired of tiptoeing around it. Dropping the bag of pancakes onto the counter with a soft thud, she crossed the room, stopping just behind him.

“Kai, this is getting ridiculous,” she said firmly, her voice cutting through the quiet hum of the city outside. "What’s going on with you? You’ve been acting weird since last night."

He didn’t move, his hands still shoved deep in his pockets. His reflection in the glass betrayed his inner turmoil—his jaw was clenched, his lips pressed into a thin line. He was unraveling, and she could see it.

She stepped closer, her voice softer now. "Is it something I did? Did I say something wrong? Please, just talk to me."

His fingers twitched at her words, but he remained silent, staring out at the skyline like it held all the answers.

She wasn’t having it. Placing a tentative hand on his shoulder, she pressed, “Kai, whatever it is, you can tell me. We’re friends, aren’t we?”

That word. Friends. It made him flinch as if she’d slapped him. He spun around abruptly, her hand falling from his shoulder. His dark eyes burned with a mix of emotions—anger, frustration, and something deeper, something raw.

"That’s the problem," he snapped, his voice louder than he intended. "We’re just friends. And I… I can’t stand it anymore."

Her breath caught in her throat. “What?” she whispered, her heart pounding as his words hung heavy in the air.

Kai ran a hand through his hair, his frustration boiling over. "Do you know what it’s like? Watching you laugh with Brooklyn, seeing you with him, like he’s the only one who gets to see you smile like that? It’s maddening."

Her eyes widened, a mix of shock and confusion flashing across her face. “Kai… are you saying—”

"Yes!" he burst out, his voice cracking under the weight of his emotions. “Yes, I’m saying I’m jealous, okay? I hate seeing you with him. I hate the way he makes you laugh. I hate that he gets to spend time with you when I can barely string two words together without making an idiot of myself.”

Her lips parted, but no words came out. She was frozen, stunned by the confession spilling from him like a dam breaking.

Kai took a shaky breath, his gaze softening but still intense. “I’m in love with you,” he admitted, his voice quieter now, tinged with vulnerability. “I’ve been in love with you for longer than I can even remember. And it’s killing me because I don’t know if you feel the same way.”

The room went silent, his words echoing between them. Her mind raced, trying to process the sheer weight of his confession. He stood there, waiting, his heart in his throat, terrified of her response.

Finally, she took a step closer, her voice barely a whisper. "Kai… why didn’t you just tell me?"

He let out a dry, bitter laugh. "Because I’m a coward. Because I was scared of losing you."

Her expression softened, and she reached up to cup his face gently, forcing him to meet her gaze. “You idiot,” she said, a smile breaking through the shock. “Do you think I’d be here, bringing you pancakes, if I didn’t care about you?”

Kai blinked, her words slowly sinking in. "What are you saying?"

“I’m saying,” she said, her voice steady now, “that I think I’ve been in love with you too. I just didn’t realize it until right now."

Kai’s heart stuttered, and for a moment, he simply stared at her, his mind struggling to catch up. Then, without thinking, he pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly as if afraid she might disappear.

“Say it again,” he murmured, his voice barely audible against her hair.

She laughed softly, wrapping her arms around him. “I love you, Kai.”

For the first time in days, the tension between them dissolved, replaced by something warm, something real.

And that is how you found yourself pinned on the door, your legs wrapped around his hips which held you up, your each arm pressed onto the door, his hips and very hard on grinding onto your clothed core that ached to be free and touched by those long fingers that you found yourself staring at so many times.

His hot lips trailed down on your throat as he sucked harshly on it, painting purple and red. The flash of memory of Brooklyn and you laughing made him let out a growl, his possessiveness taking over as he sucked harshly on your sweet spot. You moaned aloud, mouth falling open in gasp as your nipples tingled with pain that you wanted nothing but to touch them and relieve them. But you were at Kai's mercy and—

And he was a fucking Tease.

"What happened baby?" Kai asked in a hoarse whisper in your ear and bit it's shell making you mewl. "Tell me."

"K-Kai.." You moaned, your hips automatically grinding on his and his own hold tightened around your wrists, barely holding back. "Please... Fuck me.." You let out a whimper.

"How do you want me to fuck you?"

There was something in his voice that made you react. Your back arched and you nearly slipped, if not for his strong hips to hold you up. "Fuck me, please.."

"But you haven't told me how you wanted me to fuck you?" He mumbled in her ear. The monster of control he had over his emotions and expressions was something everyone marvelled at. You groaned and threw your head back, soon peering in his darkened crimson eyes. "Fuck me so hard that I have to cry to stop you." You groaned softly, your own words sending a thrum down your cunt.

He smoothed his hand on your cheek. "Babygirl~" You jolted, your cunt throbbing with how hot he actually sounded. "No one is crying tonight, let me take care of you." He cooed and took her to bed. Throwing her gently on the bed he backed off, admiring the woman he had fallen in love with. Propping on your elbows you took off the oversized shirt you were wearing, and Kai nearly lost his balance when he saw you wearing that red lace bra, your milky skin peeking through the sheer clothe.

He dived and kissed you deeply, on hand cradling your head, tolting it as per his own preference while other toyed with the jeans you wore, grumbling in your lips as he found it hard to pop off that damn button that held your jeans together. You giggled and took off your jeans, now laying in your undergarments.

The kiss was intense and deep. You didn't knew how the kiss went from sweet, romantic, passionate to Passionate, romantic, filled with hunger and lust. Big hands and long fingers dipped in your curves as he kneeded the soft flesh, your mouth opening in a gasp as a moan left when he pinched your nipped.

Kai had taken off your undergarments when you were too busy and too lost in kissing him, and hissed when your fingers coiled in his hairs. He gently peppered the kisses down your neck, his fingers dipping in your thighs. A shiver ran down your spine when his long finger swiped in your folds, a moan tearing out of your throat that fell into a gasped sigh, filled with pleasure, when his tongue licked on your nipple.

Kai was very talented, with his hands and with his tongue too. His fingers worked on collecting the juices that were already seeping out of your tight hole, while his tongue continuously flicked over your nipple, tugging it with his teeth. You shivered and thrashed when he but at your nipple, mewling softly.

"K-Kai, I can't take it anymore! Please!"

He didn't even had to be told twice before you gasped, a moan tearing out of your throat when his fingers rolled around your clit, the deep circles sending shivers up your spine and hotness down your core. Don't think that this was not affecting him, he was hard. Painfully hard. All he wanted to do was to push himself in you, claim you as his own properly and pound till you are full of his seed.

But he had to gold back, this was first time. And he didn't wanted you passed out on your first time.

So he took his sweet time. Slipping his index finger in your hole, he gently moved it, his thumb still weaving deep circles on your clit as his mouth suckled on your nipple, the pale skin around the dark areola now pink with his ministrations.

"Kai please!" You moaned, fed up with how he was dragging. Kai cooed on your chest, flicking his tongue over the erect nipple as you gasped, and plunged two more fingers in your hear, stretching you like never before and started moving them at faster pace, a moan and a sigh escaping your lips. It didn't took much time before the coil started tightening in your abdomen.

Kai noticed how you tensed, how those pretty and glossy lips fell open, how your eyes rolled back in your head, how your back arched and he realised that this was it. You will come undone in no time. And his fingers started moving faster, the tip hitting your cervix. You couldn't hold it, and the band snapped as a loud moan reverberated in the dark bedroom.

Kai shimmied his boxers off, and looked at your heaving form. His eyes trailed from your sweaty, red face, plush lips to the neck painted in dark purple love bites- his love bites- to the darker red love bites on your breasts to the core that glistened with your fluids which dropped to the pristine dark grey sheets on bed. Groaning softly he kissed you deeply, tomgue immediately pushing in your hot mouth and drinking in your moans.

The hold that was on his hairs tightened harshly when he suddenly plunged his girth in. Kai was long, yes, but he was hella girthy. Your eyes screwed shut as pain ran across your face, tears rolling down from the sudden intrusion. He kissed you more deeply, gently caressing your sides to soothe your aching core as he waited for you to stop clenching on his girth with your gummy walls.

Kai was losing his mind, yes. Especially with how snugly he fit inside you as if your core was made for his heat- it drow him mad. wild. All he wanted was to just push in your core deeper and deeper, and hit the spongey meat which would make your eyes roll back and those plush lips fall open.

"M-move.." A whisper caught his eyes as he looked in her eyes. "What baby?" He asked rasply, his breath shallowing. Your reddened face seemed to turn redder, but your eyes remained closed. "Please move Kai.." You breathed softly, opening your eyes and peering his crimson ones which looked like they just darkened.

Looking into your eyes Kai propped himself on his forearms, and started moving slowly. Your eyes stayed locked on his as your lips fell open in a gasp and he took in the pleasurable faces you were making, your leaking juices working like a lube in helping him stretch you out deliciously.

Kai watched as your eyes fell close and ducked his head down, kissing and suckling softly on your neck littering it with multiple small love bites as he kept moving in you, now more fastly with a purpose and when he hit a certain spot you let out a pleasured gasp, making him realise that he'd found that gummy spot which makes your toes turn. He moved with more purpose now, and you mewled his name softly feeling the tightness bind quickly in your abdomen.

Since he had alredy took an orgasm out of her, the second one didn't took much time to build up. Your hands latched onto his back which was littered with angry scratch marks-your angry scratch marks- and those warm fingertips worked like a soothing balm.

Kai's own orgasm was approaching at fast rate. He might have acted like a bragging peacock by holding back but his restraint felt like slipping the moment he felt the heat of her core for the first time. So when he heard her beg to move, he just... Let go of the restraint.

Hauling up himself on his elbows Kai swiped an arm around her waist and pulled her to him, kissing her harshly as his hips snapped up with a force, pounding into her wet walls. The room smelt of sex and felt hot, as the sound of the skin slapping and squealching turn louder and louder, and the moans that left your lips.

Kai was literally drilling his hips into you. He wanted you to come with him. He wanted you to claim him just like he's doing. "K-kai! I'm close!" You gasped alohd after breaking the kiss, locking your legs around his hips as he ground inside while pounding in your hole.

"Come with me." He groaned in her ears as his hips took up the momentum and she cried out, her band snapping and Kai felt his own orgasm explode and he came inside her, painting her walls white and in his love. Kai flopped right on top of her- but was careful of his weight- and kissed her tenderly.

"I love you, you know that right?" He whispered breathily and kissed her head softly, looking at her only to see mischief gleaming in her eyes. Leaning closer to him, she whispered. "I want you to show me how much you love me."

And he did show her how much he loved her.

#kai hiwatari #kai hiwatari x reader #kai hiwatari smut #kai smut #hiwatari kai #beyblade x reader #bakuten shoot beyblade #bakuten shoot beyblade x reader #kai x reader #kaishoodiestealer #beyblade #beyblade g revolution #beyblade v force #vivasciouslay

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leighlew3 · 3 months ago

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What were the aspects of Supergirl (show in general or character) that resonated with you personally?

First and foremost, Kara herself... as someone with a ton of trauma, who would have every reason to do not so great things or wield her power for evil, yet does good things and channels her energy into trying to help people -- she's amazing. She is someone who feels isolated a lot of the time and struggles with anger issues but ultimately is such a light and a good person and somebody that just wants to do good for the world, even when it's not always appreciated or understood. Even if it means constant self sacrifice.

I relate to pretty much all of that.

I also loved the idea of Supercorp obviously, because it was such an epic tale in how they were so similar but so different and so inherently fated to be side by side. It could've been so successful if canon romantic on the show instead of just baited. Taking the decades-old lore of Super vs Luthor and instead turning into Super & Luthor -- a story of hate turned into a love story -- that's an incredible concept, and so rich and full of so much storytelling potential. Them just being friends is the 'lite' version of turning that lore on its head. But to go even deeper would've been nothing short of revolutionary.

Alas, instead they chose to tarnish the show's legacy and taint the good it DID do elsewhere in LGBTQ representation (because YES a show can have ancillary rep but still queerbait a lead dynamic -- especially when it's bait that existed before any other rep was even introduced on the show) ...by choosing to be one of the worst examples of queerbait in TV history (due to all of the romanic tropes and parallels and teases and lack of denials by TPTB who very clearly wanted people to stay tuned in based on hope for canon endgame since that very first Clois parallel in 2x01). It was also just an absolute waste of creative potential and true travesty that ultimately only hurt the show and cast and fans and everyone involved, whether everyone is ready to admit it or not.

Anyway, I enjoyed the fact that so many of the characters -- from Kara and Lena (these two especially), to Alex, Nia, and Kelly... so many of them came loaded with one form of trauma or another, but they still were ultimately inherently good people, a great example of 'found family', and heroic as heck in the end, no matter how dark it got at times for some. In large part because they had each other. I mean, I wish they all weren't LITERAL superheroes or supernatural by the end because I think the show (amongst numerous other issues) lost sight of their own messaging that "anyone can be a hero even without powers" but -- they really were inherently such good / ripe characters, the women especially (plus Brainy and J'onn).

Sure, they all (again, the women especially) often were sadly let down by superficial or just plain poor writing and overall creative direction a lot of the time, especially in the end -- but at the core, everyone could find something to relate to in at least one character, if not multiple characters, and that's great.

I know much like fans of Dana Scully in the 90s, a LOT of girls/women were inspired to get into STEM over this last decade now because of Katie McGrath's portrayal of Lena Luthor. And even more people related to Lena's trauma as a survivor of lifelong abuse at the hands of her family and especially her unhinged brother. Seeing that someone can slip into darkness as the result of years of sadistic mind games and abuse of all kinds but still come out the other side a hero, empowered, and a good person who helps others and is capable of loving and deserving of being loved? That's beautiful, and Lena offered that to SO many viewers, so it's no wonder she was a top fan favorite second only to the lead herself. And seeing how that impacted people, was so very moving.

Seeing people impacted by Alex's coming out arc in Season 2 was amazing. Having the first trans superhero on TV was amazing. And so on...

Look, there's a lot the show did wrong. In fact, possibly more was done poorly or wrong than well or good, overall, unfortunately. Alas, there were some little sparks of light to be truly appreciated.

But again, for me, I connected most to Kara's story, her strength, her dichotomy, and her indelible sense of HOPE... despite every reason at times to give up. And to the Kara/Lena love story, in all its infinite, incredible, and still mostly untapped potential.

#supergirl #supercorp #kara zor el #kara danvers #lena luthor

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saeun · 2 years ago

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to you, my woman al haitham + kaveh.

sum. royalty au, not with genshin lore, and a COMPLETE brainfart omg i just needed to get this out

i. first impressions always count | 3.4k words

the lies and the truths: two terms that bind together to make balance. the reflection of the water in the basin mimics you. the wavering ripples and droplets that yelp each time your hand moves in it. a cold morning is what it is. eyebags that couldn't have been more protruding, a frown that holds every unspoken emotion, eyes that rid themselves of numbness — a sickening morning. you're alone, thankfully. amidst the sun's warming beams holds a dull you.

the day you've loathed has come. at the last supper, where a few envoys from the land of the righteous, sumeru, had arrived on the queen's note to deliver her qwords. it was but a slight favour on your side; hidden in her handwritten letter, she offered a deal: marry your daughter to my son. such can benefit both, if you permit. the answer lay in your palms — choose wisely, king.

her offer — or rather, her threat—held her attitude throughout. compared to your father, she's someone to worship. like a fool to a tyrant, your father had no choice. each day by the hour, does your blood seethe with hatred. annoyance for your family, hatred for your greed-ridden father, revulsion for everything that dawns in this damned kingdom.

from the second you were born, they've placed their wants on you. praising you, forcing you, making you their pure goddess. within enevis's dome was the saying "she who borns shall become she who reigns." it's derived directly from the gods that once served these grounds day and night. sitting boldly at the temple's front, the transcript reads words that were shed from the mighty himself to the new goddess. ever since that moment, to her people who live, each time a woman has been blessed into the royalty, she shall be called 'the goddess' descent.'

just pure tomfoolery. what is a deity to a man? a nobel to a peasant? a dream to a non-believer? you've been dragged on as a saintess all your life. controlled like a puppet by its master. a sing-song tale of marionette to her box; she's stuck in a neverending loop, unable to grasp free no matter the attempts. almost like you, who once tried marriage to set yourself free. at the very least, you loved him.

he wasn't anyone special — an average man, is what he was. compared to your status as enevis's sole princess, he was a pedestrian, at least. a farmer on the outskirts of town, producing homegrown crops for the capital's people (not that he earned much anyway). the first time you laid your eyes on him was when you snuck out through the window. it was idiotic, truly, but alas, it gave you a sense of peace. you had to pay off the guards that stood at their posts. one could only pray that your gold was enough for them.

nights of sneaking out turned into marriage. a marriage that wasn't approved of, no matter the pleas. nevertheless, you were a grown woman. you made your choice, even if it angered your mother.

parallel to euphoria, a six-month run was well lived. you couldn't quite clear your status as a princess, but you could've lived with him. a husband and his wife, both living quietly at their home. it wasn't the extravagance you were shaped into, but it felt comfortable. such dreams can only last a minute, unfortunately.

had you known. had you only known that your father wasn't going to let you wander off through his grip. He was enraged at your marriage. "was your vacation enough?" he asked, using your husband's chest as his sword's stand. your father looked at the victim in disgust; he never expected your vision to be so low. so vile, so impure. a shame is what you've become. running around with this peasant while holding the royal name was something the king wouldn't tolerate.

he lacked care for you — hell be damned, he never cared for you. the words write a she but a he is what your father craved. a son, a copy of himself. listening to his wife's words, he believed the sour dream of you becoming him. but alas, you showed him that a vulnerable woman will never be fit for the throne. your father did not a care for you. he didn't bother to retrieve his sword, nor did he bother to comfort you. if you wish to grieve and weep for some random, then so be it. as long as you were back by the moon's descent, he didn't care for your horrors.

quite pitiful, really. it's been hardly a week since that occurred. you weren't given time to grieve — after all, royalty never crumbles. your so-called wedding with al-haitham is due the following week. preparations will take a week. from enevis to sumeru takes roughly two days, granted that the sea is gracious. lost in your train of thought, you mindlessly sink your gaze into the mirror, hoping that soon you'll regain everything.

"my lady, have you completed your morning?" three knocks on the door awaken you. behind the porcelain door stood your lady-in-waiting, adila. aside from your nanny, she was your closest person in the entire palace.

"just a moment, adila," answering her, you scatter across the room to wear your robe. truth be revealed, you didn't do anything but splash some water around.

you walk towards the door, paying close attention not to just give up and run back to your bed. oh, how tempting giving up sounds! turning the knob, you open the door until it reaches your shoulder, preferring to just peek your head out. such actions were totally not done to observe if any of the other maids were nearby. confirming adila's sole presence, you wrap a hand around hers, pulling her into your room before locking the door.

"must i really go to the dining room? seeing their old heads will fill me with nothing but rage!" you immediately begin your complaints. although it is true that you were in slumber, you cannot deny that you overhead the maids talking about new guests that came to dine.

adila softly laughs. to her, she enjoys moments where you spew words of anger day to night. it's not often you get to speak with such freedom — even your maids are ears for your father. your every movement will be recorded. he cannot afford another shameful action from you.

"it must be done, my lady. what can we do against his majesty's order?" maneuvering across your chamber, she attends to your bed, working her hands to smoothen the silk sheets.

"to hell with him!"

───

throughout the silent hall, your heels clacked with each step, producing some sort of sound in the deafening silence. at both sides stood two maids — you don't know them. you've avoided learning of any maid the second you learned of spies planted in your palace. sickening and vile. you lack even a sense of comfort in your own wing. the stifling feeling never left; it's as if there's a constant hand pushing down your throat, preventing any particle of air from entering.

slowing your steps, you stop at your palace's entrance. they don't need to follow me. you turn your head to the maid on the right. raising your hand, you notify them both, "you need not follow me any longer. carry on somewhere else."

"but princess —"

"you need not."

"we understand," bowing slightly, they made their exit. you don't care enough to look where they're going — to hell with him and to hell with them.

mindlessly strolling through your garden, you allow your hand to glide through the rose bushes, not caring about the thorns that pierce your skin. if you were deemed impure then who would give care?

the walk from your palace to the main palace took roughly ten minutes. you can only wish that it lasted longer. entering the palace, a nauseous feeling grabs hold of you. you've only touched a centimeter in yet it's still disgusting. memories never leave — to be more exact, those memories never leave.

"are you okay, princess?" a worker, who you couldn't be bothered to learn his position, questioned about your wellbeing. his eyes observed your physical appearance. you were standing upright, like a true royalty, however the evidence of negativity dawned. your unfocused eyes tell more than your words.

"do not worry about me, i am fine," giving him an answer, you focus your vision on him. is he a chef? you wonder. his suit varied from the other male staff: a simple marine blue suit, a lengthy coat that ran down to his mid-calves, white velvet gloves that stopped at his elbows, and a chef's cart standing in front of him. from the dishes standing in it, it seems as though he's going to the same destination you share.

"are these for the morning dine? with the envoys?" you inquire. if it's the truth, you'll enter with him.

"ah, yes, it's the appetizers as the main brunch has yet to finish," he gestures to the top dish before he continues, "would you like to join me to the room, princess?"

"that'll be appreciated," nodding, you both continue on to path that leads south. hopefully one angers the gods and they send two lightning strikes down as a lesson, if that'll ever happen.

arriving at the door, the guards announce your entrance as it opens from the inside.

too bright, you think.

small, hesitant steps were taken as you tried hard to focus on your practiced emotions. you did not suffer atrocious lessons to falter at the sight of a damned family.

"good morning, all. may her rays shine gold," you greet everyone at the table. prefering to not say another sentence until it's over.

"have you slept well?" your mother asked, placing two extra breadsticks on your plate.

"i did. thank you for asking, mother," you replied, opting to not look at her or anyone.

resting his palms flat on the table, your father interrupts to begin the brunch, "let us begin the feast."

───

quite some time has passed, judging from the multi-colored clouds that decorates the sky's canvas. you're all in the main garden, discussing the final actions that'll take place in enevis. well, that excludes you. you fear that you've long blurred out their conversation — it's uninteresting and draining.

another thirty minutes has passed and yet they've failed to finish their conversation. if you're not given freedom anytime soon, you're going to start malfunctioning.

"it's been decided then. y/n, you'll travel to sumeru today," your father speaks, signing off his signature on the scroll.

"pardon me? today?" you're taken by surprise. maybe you should've kept up with at least the schedule. looking around, you begin to worry about your luggage, "and about my belongings? i don't believe they're bagged already."

"they are."

"oh, alright then," sighing, you sit back into the chair. since when did they do that? you think.

───

two days have gone since you've left enevis for sumeru. the sea was graceful, thankfully, but it didn't cease the sea sickness.

sumeru is a beautiful kingdom — you cannot deny. it's laced with greenery and architecture that symbolizes its history. unfortunately, leisure time is what you lack. preparations for the wedding will swallow every millisecond of your time. even in your slumber it'll haunt you. the carriage ride to the central city was quiet. you only took your lady-in-waiting to this trip as you do not need more eyes to lurk on you.

you don't remember much from the journey — in all honesty, you blanked out. heavens be cursed you don't even know how you got in this room. it appears to be his office. the ornaments and funiture deprive it from being named a relaxing room. his desk was the messiest of all; multiple layers of scrapped paper, crumbled balls of different colored paper, pens and pencils alike scattered across and last but not least, him. he isn't your soon-to-be husband, but he seems like someone important.

his aura is soft. aside from his shirt having the top three buttons undone, sleeves rolled up to his forearm, his coat long abandoned to the side couch, hair tied in a messy bun — is that a straw? well, it looks like someone has been sleeping out in their office.

"please, forgive the mess. i've been slaving for the new building," he speaks up, hands moving with pace to make him and his desk presentable.

"do not worry. take your time, sir," reassuring him, you gift him a genuine smile. at the very least you can be at ease in sumeru.

a smile dawns his face as his shoulders relax. seems like he swore you would've been a rude individual. finishing his... routine... he reaches a hand out to you as he greets himself, "call me kaveh. i'm the marquess of sumeru, head of the architect ministry."

accepting his hand, you follow suit, "i am y/n l/n, first princess of enevis, second to the throne."

"forgive me if i offend but are you not supposed to be the first to the throne?" kaveh asks, his confusion is more than obvious.

"i would've, however, i do not care for the throne. the archduchess is in lead for it," you explain the throne-tree to him. your answer was only half the truth — while it's not a lie that you do not care, it's also the fact that you're too lazy to rule an entire kingdom (but no one needs this knowledge).

kaveh's mouth shapes into an 'O', he nods at your answer as he sits back down. offering you some cookies, he begins once again, "whenever you are ready we can head over to his highness."

"i understand," your curiosity about the prince was immediately quelled without having to say a word. bringing a cookie to your mouth, you hold a hand under your chin for any fallen crumbs.

"heavens, these are delightful!" complimenting the cookies, you hum at the sweet taste.

"they truly are! collei made them. she's a student at the ministry of agriculture and medicine but she's an amazing baker," kaveh rambles. he's quite happy that you truly aren't a "stuck up" princess.

after some time relaxing and listening to kaveh's rambles, you've decided that you'd go to see his highness. don't get it wrong — you adore kaveh and his voice is soothing but you also wish to see your husband.

on the path to al-haitham's wing of the palace, your sense of joy return as your conversations with kaveh never ends. he's a comfortable energy to be around. much different from the sour ecstacy that drowns your home. he's a talker and you're a listener — a combination crafted by the heavens, if you will.

the stroll hadn't past more than fifteen minutes — that itself isn't the accurate time... due to kaveh's excitement to plaster your attention on the details of each pillar. according to his sources, he spent eons delicately crafting every design, paying heed to incorporate historical transcripts and symbols. you both were content with your conversations but to your dismay, all things must come to an end. that and your soon-to-be husband awaits your arrival allegedly.

"we're here! i'll escort you up to his office. he should be there alone," he speaks, holding one hand out to guide you along the staircase.

his hands are soft.

accepting his offer, you gift another smile, "thank you, sir kaveh."

"just kaveh is fine, princess."

"then so be it. call me by my given name as well."

oh, kaveh thinks. to say he's captured by surprise would be a hellish understatement. times like these are where he wishes biology never worked the way it did. the soft pink overlay at the tip of his ears surely didn't go unnoticed.

deciding to refuse, kaveh stumbles on his sentence, "i — i cannot do that, princess."

an expected reaction. you must allow him this, it's only fair as he allowed you.

"please do, kaveh. it is only fair."

fuck, he swears that he isn't this easily flustered. a simple sentence — nothing about it should be this heart-racing. is it because you said it? maybe he needs to visit the nearest hospital.

covering the lower half of his face with the back of his free hand, kaveh continues to escort you to his highness' office. unfortunately for him, he'll have to leave right after. being a marquess and a minister is not an easy job.

───

tense, awkward, and boring. what an uninteresting individual is he. you will not deny, he's quite the eye-catcher, however, he lacks the personality. the minute you entered his office, he greeted you and went back to his paper work. you cannot say he's rude — you were technically disrupting him but is it hard to give you two minutes of his time?! well, the conversation-starter lays in your palms.

"your highness, would you like a cup of tea?"

"no."

okay, rude.

clicking your tongue, you decided it'll be best to leave it in his hands... not.

it's been hours. if another minute passes, you'll give into the urges and slouch. a princess must never lose her composure but this princess might just! the time you've spent observing and making mental analogies of this prince, it is safe to assume that you hate his guts.

a princess that despises awkward situations and a stoic prince. it'll end well, right..?

"accept my apologies, i prefered to finish my documents before attending to you," al-haitham speaks, finally arising from behind his desk and to you.

"it is all right, prince," you lied.

al-haitham walks around his desk, adjusting his cuffs while he made his way to you. compared to kaveh, his energy is dull; he seems as if the light of life had been vacuumed out of his body. you keep your gaze on his figure — he's lean, to say the least. as he sits, you dash your eyes to look somewhere else.

such eyes are too intimidating — it reminds you of your father. al-haitham on the other hand, he calls for a maid to bring in delicacies and such. he will not tolerate leaving his guests deprived of food.

"would you like to discuss the wedding? everything else such as the coronations have been handled prior," he speaks up, educating you on the details you've missed.

"i don't see a reason not to," you replied, smiling at the maids as you whispered a "thank you" to them.

al-haitham leans forward to the coffee table, raising the tea cup to blow the steam.

"well, i'd first say that i will not be bedding you the first night."

"that is quite all — excuse me?" your automatic answer was cut short. just how high is his audacity? how rude to think you'd bed a man like him!

"please, take no offense. i would rather not bed anyone. it is not you, princess," clearing you from any suspicion, he continues to not pay you any mind.

"that is not — anyway, prince, i believe we should set some boundaries?" you suggested, trying your best to calm the twitching vein under your right eye.

"i'll see it done. is a written contract okay with you?" he replies. better than hearing you speak. he may be rude but at least he's tolerable. hopefully.

"yes, i do not mind." with your answer finishing the marriage conversation, you two continue on with casual topics. he's a talker, all right. it seems like he's the person to continue on once you've introduced a topic of his liking.

fortunately, all bad things come to an end. as the moon illuminates, al-haitham decided to end it here. though, before you make your leave, there are a few words he must say.

"i'll see you at the banquet. my staff will send over a gown — it matches with my suit. please do wear it," notifying you about his absolute god-sent kindess (he was forced to.)

al-haitham walks with you to the exit. a blessing of relief washes over him once his eyes landed on someone that appears to be your lady-in-waiting.

"my lady!" adila's steps fasten towards you. she smiles and then stops. who is this peculiar individual? deciding the give a bow of respect, she greets al-haitham, "goodnight, sir who i do not know of."

a chuckle was heard at the right of al-haitham's side. it appears to him that you find this amusing.

"just 'prince' is fine."

"yes — PRINCE?!" adila's eyes display her exact thought process. it's evident that she's thinking something along the lines of "dear heavens, i hope they don't behead me."

"pardon my intrusion, i will leave now. see you at the banquet, prince," you interrupted their conversation — knowing adila, she'd stumble on her words and unleash a train of apologies.

"oh, yes. let us go, my lady!"

ii. banquets, fake impressions and hateful actions | 1.1k words

it's alluring. a gown parallel to the morning sky, diamonds littered around its collar. silver accents adorn its front, reaching down to its very center. ruffled patterns accentuate the back, creating more volume than you could ever ask for. perhaps al-haitham has more to him than a robotic personality.

you're in awe. of course, you've had beautiful gowns before but this — this is just gorgeous. the reflection in the mirror captivated you like no other. your hands slid down the front, adoring the way it complimented your body.

"you look wonderful, my lady. sure to be most explenditurefous!" adila complimented. she busies herself with dusting off your heels as she's the only maid left in your chamber.

"explenditurefous?" you asked, rather confused about the sudden unknown word.

"no word can describe your beauty, so i made my own!" she cleared.

earning a smile from you, you softly laugh at her logic. adila's truly someone you can't live without.

"thank you, adila."

───

the banquet.. is definitely a banquet..! you're not sure if it's because you're in a different kingdom, but they sure do things different to enevis. for the past hour you've held your stance to the side; more comfortable with the option to sit back and lurk rather than to be the main attraction — which is foolish. you, a kingdom's princess, can never hide. your gown matches with that of sumeru's crown prince. only a fool can miss that sign.

swirling your champagne glass, you hum at the difference in people that decorate the banquet's room. they all look beautiful — especially kaveh. looks like he knows how to appear alive when he isn't cooped up in his office.

the music changed? you wonder, carefully listening to the soft, sensual rhythm crafted by the chior.

"my lady, would you care to do me this dance?" someone asks, bowing slightly as he holds out his hand for yours. you don't know him — it's also rather unfortunate that he isn't your type.

"oh, my ap—"

"move along. do not try to dance with her."

well excuse me, you think. it's obvious by his tone who the voice belongs to. a stoic voice for a stoic man, sumeru's crown prince, al-haitham.

he towers over the stranger, eyes oozing of annoyance and authority. al-haitham himself doesn't know why he's so irritated by someone trying to dance with you. is it not basic etiquette? dances shared with others are nothing but a noble's etiquette. nothing more, nothing less. so why must be seethe with rage at the image of you dancing with someone else at the center of the room?

"you, come with me," sliding his hand to your lower back, al-haitham guides you to a deserted room. whether you like it or not, he has business with you.

"heaven forbid! must we walk so fast?!" complaining, you came to a complete stop.

somewhere in the building's balcony, you two stand. the moon's light rains a soft, dim light across both. there's a soft wind that blesses the night. it's romantic — if you weren't stuck with him. you're annoyed that he takes action without — at the very least — talking to you.

and al-haitham? he's lost. physically, he looks bored. mentally, he's panicking. curse his mother for summoning such a breathtaking woman, really.

"you've been blatantly ignoring me ever since the universe was shaped," frowning at him, you poke at his chest. you'll do whatever it takes to show him your annoyance.

"have you any idea how sickening that is —"

huh — why is he — what's going on?

you, him, and a kiss. al-haitham's hand moves from its position at your lower back to your waist. one hand busies itself playing with your gown's jewellry as the other focuses on resting on your cheek. not that you are complaining — actually it's quite the opposite; contrast to your hatred for his attitude, you do not mind getting physical with him. he is, indeed, quite the appetizer.

pulling away, al-haitham's eyes remain in yours. it takes him a few seconds to recollect himself before speaking, "my apologies."

at times like these do you wish adila was here. you're completely out of any sensible answers. fiddling with your fingers, you decide it's to keep it short, "it's fine — but were you not the one who said "no physical contact" prince?"

fuck, forgot about that, cursing himself in his mind, he refutes with a "smart" reply, "think less of it. simply consider it practice for our wedding."

was he not — okay.

"you're a funny guy, you know," succeeding in preventing yourself from malfunctioning, you continue, "a horrible liar too."

"refrain from such assumptions."

"no!"

───

making your grand entrance at the banquet's room, you immediately shuffle away from al-haitham. the buffet calls for you — he can practice patience. sneaking to the buffet, you mentally drool at the sight of different desserts gracing your view. so many to eat, so many to taste. if the goddess permits, you can plan a robbery with adila and send her to your chamber with hidden desserts.

"what're you doing, y/n?" another familiar voice speaks, slightly scaring you in the process.

"who — oh, kaveh!" you beam at him. you've noticed that every time kaveh comes into the picture, your energy immediately restores. perhaps it's just his default power.

engulfing you in a small hug, kaveh snickers at the hidden yet loaded plate that sits behind you. using the clues, he can tell you were having the time of your life.

"you look magnificent," he compliments, completely taken by your appearance.

"you, too! your suit makes you look quite appealing, if i must," returning his compliment, you can feel yourself get giddy over his words. unlike al-haitham, kaveh's somewhat a sweet-talker. but what he lacks is what al-haitham has: boldness. contrast to him, al-haitham's quick with his actions. he acts on command but lacks to verbal confidence.

kaveh clears his throat. as sumeru's marquess, he mustn't show any signs of blushing — especially when he can feel al-haitham's stare digging two holes behind his skull. kaveh, more than anyone, knows sumeru's prince. having grown up with him, he can tell that the intense one-sided eye contact either means 1) get away from her or 2) find yourself here now. and to kaveh, he believes both options hold the same amount of truth.

"well, i have to go before he shoves me to the underworld. i'll see you around, y/n," saying his goodbyes, kaveh hurriedly shuffles through the crowd.

unable to speak due to the cupcake occupying your mouth, you wave at his running figure before returning your attention to the food.

looks like it's going to be a rather rough time being stuck between a prince and a marquess.

#. ae-generated: genshin impact #not proofread my humble apologies #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #kaveh x reader #al haitham x reader #genshin x you

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