#my brain is obsessed with the idea of him as the master

[lykoiii]

that one artist who is always doing warm ups

[advisorykitty]

Haii!! Can I request a Nyon x Reader x Nyen? Where Reader is a Catwomen who is very ditzy and airheaded. Also very sleepy. And Nyen and Nyon who surprisingly were warmed up to her (in their minds they have the same love for her like they do Luther) and they’re very possessive and obsessive. Maybe she manages to get out of the house and she’s approached by a stranger who won’t leave her alone. But she didn’t realize she was followed by Nyon and Nyen who didn’t like her leaving the house at all.

Caught in the middle nyonxreaderxnyon

The late afternoon sun bathed everything in a warm, sleepy glow, the kind that made you feel like curling up in a sunspot for a nap. Your tail swayed lazily behind you as you wandered down the street, half-awake, half-daydreaming. It wasn’t often you ventured out of Luther’s house—being a cat(wo)man meant you spent most of your time napping in cozy corners, pissing Nyen off when you had the chance, and taking constant duties from your master. Your soft [F/C] outfit a constant companion.

However, today you thought you'd try something new. Something had stirred your curiosity, and before you knew it, you were out, wandering the streets.Your (H/C) haircut—Luther’s idea, of course—framed your face perfectly, giving you that carefree, sleepy look he always said suited you. You liked it, though; it felt effortless, just like your life most days.

You were so lost in your own little world that you didn’t notice the man following you until he was right beside you.

“Hey there, beautiful,” his voice interrupted your thoughts, and you blinked, trying to focus on him through the haze of your sleepy brain.

“Huh?” you mumbled, your ears twitching slightly.

“I said, you look nice today. Maybe we could grab a coffee or something.” His grin was too wide, too eager, and it made you want to take a step back, though your slow brain didn’t quite catch up to your body.

“Oh... I don’t like coffee,” you said softly, still half-dazed. “I like [F/D] better.”

His smile faltered for a second but came back, this time with a hint of irritation. “Well, we can get [F/D] too. I don’t mind. C’mon, I’ll show you a good time.”

You blinked again, trying to process what he was saying. There was something off about him, but your brain was too foggy to figure out what. “Um... no thanks. I think I’ll just... go home.”

He chuckled, stepping closer. “Aw, don’t be like that. I’m just being friendly. Let’s go grab that [F/D]. You cosplaying?? I could get behind that, i know some forepl- .”

Before you could figure out how to respond, a low, angry voice cut through the air. “She said no, asshole.”

You turned, and there he was—Nyen, stepping out from behind you, like some pissed-off avenging cat. His eyes flashed with anger, and his whole body practically vibrated with tension. Nyon stood beside him, quieter but no less intimidating with his hat casting shadows over his eyes.

The man turned, looking Nyen up and down. “Who the fuck are you?”

Nyon didn’t even flinch, his Russian accent thick as he added, “You leave. No good for you here.”

The man’s confidence wavered, but he still tried to act tough. “She doesn’t need a babysitter. I’m just talking to her.”

Nyen’s lip curled in disgust. “Talking? Yeah, right. You were bothering her, dickhead.”

You blinked, your brain finally catching up to the situation. “He was?”

Nyon sighed softly, muttering something in Russian that you couldn’t understand but knew was probably an insult.

The man bristled, clearly feeling cornered. “Look, I was just being friendly.”

Nyen stepped forward, his fists clenched. “Friendly? You call that friendly? Get lost before I shove my boot so far up your ass, you’ll taste leather for a week.”

The stranger visibly paled, finally realizing he was out of his depth. With one last mumbled insult, he turned and walked off, much faster than he’d arrived.

You blinked again, looking up at Nyen. “Was he bothering me?”

Nyen groaned, running a hand through his hair. “Jesus Christ, are you that clueless? Yes, he was bothering you.”

You frowned, trying to piece it together. “Oh... I thought he was just being nice.”

Nyon shook his head, muttering more Russian under his breath. “Ты такая беспечная,” he said, though there was no real anger in his voice, just exasperation.

Nyen shot you a look that was equal parts annoyed and protective. “Look, you can’t just wander off like that. What if we hadn’t been here? You’d have been fucked.”

You yawned, rubbing your eyes lazily. “But I just wanted some fresh air…”

Nyon sighed, stepping closer and looking down at you with concern. “Air inside house... good too. You stay safe.”

Nyen grumbled, crossing his arms. “Next time you wanna go outside, tell us. We don’t like you being out here alone, not with creeps like that roaming around.”

You blinked, surprised by how serious they both were. “I didn’t mean to worry you... Sorry.”

Nyen sighed, his anger finally fading as he looked at you. “Just... don’t be so fucking dumb next time, alright?”

Nyon nodded in agreement, though his tone was much gentler. “You be careful. Always.”

You smiled sleepily, not really understanding the full weight of their concern but appreciating it nonetheless. “Okay... I’ll be more careful.”

Nyen rolled his eyes, though you could see a small smile tugging at his lips. “Sure you will.”

As you turned to head back home, Nyen and Nyon flanked you, sticking close like two overprotective—and ridiculously possessive—guards. You yawned again, oblivious to the fact that they were still radiating a mix of irritation and fierce protectiveness. You didn’t fully grasp just how serious they were about keeping you safe.

“Well, that was exciting,” you mumbled sleepily, blinking at Nyen. “I didn’t know people could be so... persistent.”

Nyen huffed, clearly still annoyed. “Persistent? That guy was a total creep. If we hadn’t shown up, who knows what that asshole would’ve tried next. Probably would’ve dragged you off for your damn [F/D] without even asking.”

Nyon nodded seriously. “Да. Bad man. You not see it. You too... airheaded.”

You gave a lazy grin, still half-drifting in your own little world. “I guess I’m just too friendly for my own good, huh?”

Nyen groaned, rubbing his face in frustration. “Too friendly? No, you’re just too fucking clueless. Friendly gets you into trouble when you don’t realize some dickhead’s trying to hit on you. We can’t always be around to bail your ass out, y’know.”

Nyon added in his thick accent, “Is why you stay close. Safe inside. Outside is... shit.” He seemed satisfied with his choice of words.

You couldn’t help but laugh, the sound soft and airy. “You two are acting like I’m some kind of... kitten or something.”

Nyen shot you a deadpan look. “Kitten? Try more like a dumbass wandering into traffic. You don’t have a fucking clue what’s going on half the time.”

Nyon nodded, ever serious. “Yes. Like kitten. But... dumb kitten.”

You blinked, your tail twitching behind you. “A dumb kitten?”

Nyen smirked. “Yeah. A dumb kitten with no idea she’s in danger until someone’s about to kick her ass. That’s you.”

You pouted, your ears drooping. “I’m not that bad…”

“Yeah? You thought that jackass back there was just being ‘friendly,’” Nyen said, making air quotes. “Meanwhile, he’s about two seconds away from getting his teeth knocked in.”

Nyon grinned, a rare flash of amusement lighting his face. “Yes. Would’ve been... bad for him. Very bad.”

You sighed dramatically, rubbing your temples. “Okay, okay, I get it. You’re both my bodyguards now. I’ll tell you next time I want to leave the house. Happy?”

Nyen shook his head, but a grin tugged at his lips. “Bodyguards? Nah. More like babysitters for a kitten who’s got no idea how much trouble she’s in half the time.”

Nyon snickered. “Yes. Babysitters. For dumb kitten.”

You groaned, rolling your eyes. “You two are impossible.”

Nyen smirked, slinging an arm around your shoulder. “Nah, we’re just the only thing keeping you from wandering off into more shit. You’re lucky we care enough to stick around.”

Nyon nodded seriously. “Very lucky.”

As the three of you made your way home, you couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head. “I’m not that much of a dumbass…”

Nyen chuckled darkly. “Sure. Keep telling yourself that, kitten.”

Nyon grinned, his broken English only making his point more cutting. “We watch over you... because you too... dumb for world.”

You sighed, shaking your head. “I’m never gonna live this down, am I?”

Nyen laughed. “Not a fucking chance, kitten. Not a fucking chance.”

[sillygoofyqueer]

Either before or after would be delightful, though I was thinking it was after Bing-ge became emperor.

I was imagining the situation with Shen Yuan being a transmigrator forced to steal stuff from Bing-ge because that was his character’s original role in the plot. He wants to be inconspicuous about it so as not to get murdered (like canon… also murder of crows, lol) but shiny qi rich things are just too tempting!!! Stupid crow brain won’t let him steal things that are less obvious. ;_;

And yay! You know about the crow tendency to make friends with people then be “helpful” with gifts or savage in their defense. That’s why I like crow-Shen Yuan so much. I can totally see him getting help from his full-crow demon family members (or regular crows if he can control them like ZZL can snakes) to harass assholes by dropping rocks, pooping on them and such while in their full crow forms. 😂

He absolutely feels bad about stealing stuff from people he likes (especially Bing-ge) so of course he always offers payments in exchange. Rare plants, animal parts, non-shiny artifacts, etc. all suspiciously selected to be super useful in upcoming plot events, to Bing-ge’s bafflement. Probably doesn’t help the obsession. How TF does this thief know what he’s going to need soon???

AAAGGGHHHH, THIS IS SO FUN!! I love this idea that Shen Yuan either has like, demon family members that he can relax with (oh em gosh, seeing his original family in these demons?) or just hangs out with like, a murder of crows and is like "aight, get these fuckers" and they just swarm whoever irritated him that day. He definitely has a nest in a mountain somewhere, just filled with these shiny things that he steals from people, and oh my god can he just be like a safe haven for other crows (demon or otherwise) and have little perches that he makes for them and helps the ones that are too injured to hunt for themselves. He's like a master of crows and (despite being just a thorn in the side of the demon emperor) he is known to be terrifying lest these crows get hurt (I'm picturing half human Shen Yuan standing in the shadows of a forest with wings outstretched and just staring down at the culprit) BACK TO BING-GE, I'd find it really funny if Shen Yuan first steals shiny and qi rich things that are small and he can just take in full crow form because they aren't really heavy, leaving Bing-ge like "no fucking way a literal crow has been stealing from me. This feels humiliating what the hell". Later on, he sets a trap for Shen Yuan to steal this big trinket (a statue or something that radiates qi) because he knows it would be too heavy for the crow to take and he can grab it! He waits, then watches as Shen Yuan observes the statue a little bit, before shifting into his half-crow form and just scooping it up into his arms, scowling at the weight before flying out again. Bing-ge is sat there for a while like "what the fuck just happened" and then he watches as Shen Yuan returns a few minutes later with a herb that is supposed to be extremely useful for a poison or something, drops it where the statue was, and darts away again. After that, it's like the only thing on Bing-ge's mind is "how can I get this pretty demon to come back?" and he doesn't even think about his harem (if he has one in this), leaving them all around his palace absolutely confused and questioning what has happened to their emperor. {part two! Part one, part three, part four, part five, part six, part seven!!}

[voxmortuus]

✧*̥˚ PAIRING: *̥˚✧ Yandere!Count Vronsky x F!Reader!Wife ✧*̥˚ UNIVERSE: *̥˚✧ Anna Karenina ✧*̥˚ WORD COUNT: *̥˚✧ 3.6k ✧*̥˚ PROMPT: *̥˚✧ This was given to me by the lovely @bettytaylorversion || Okay, okay I'm lately obsessed with yandere Count Vronsky, so how about yan Vronsky suspecting that his wife is seeing someone or like in love with someone and it doesn't help when his mother keeps feeding his suspicions so he ends up locking the wife/reader up in their house in countryside/ another country house where no one can reach them and where he makes sure his beloved wife knows exactly how much he loves her. ✧*̥˚ TRIGGER WARNINGS: *̥˚✧ Dead Dove Do Not Eat | Yandere Count | Possessive Count | Aggressive Count | Stalker Count | Demanding Count | Accusations of Cheating | Toxic Mother | False ideas | False Suspicions from mother | Toxic Marriage? | Isolation of Reader | Slapping | Pushing or Shoving | Yelling | Slamming doors | Gripping readers throat | Passionate making out | Throwing reader on bed | Stripping reader | Unprotected PiV | Aggressive sex | Reader fights a bit but stops fighting | Dub-Con? | insinuated Cream Pie | Crying Reader | Fluff | Reader questions if she loves him at the end | Relationship conflictions | PLEASE TELL ME IF I FORGOT ANYTHING!!! I want to make sure readers are fully aware of what they are getting themselves into when they read this… ✧*̥˚ NOTES: *̥˚✧ I've been wanting to write for him for a long while! Thank you love for this request! I hope this is along the lines of what you were hoping for... Sorry if it doesn't hit exactly what you're looking for but I tried!!! Anywho.... I hope this brings you some joy. ✧*̥˚ DIVIDER CREDIT: *̥˚✧ @nyxvuxoa ✧*̥˚ TIME PASSER DIVIDER CREDIT: *̥˚✧ @voxmortuus ✧*̥˚ IMAGE CREDIT: *̥˚✧ @peachyspaceslvt ✧*̥˚ ATJ TAGLIST: *̥˚✧ @earth-elemental18 @nyxvuxoa-writes ✧*̥˚ My Master Masterlist | Aaron Taylor-Johnson Masterlist *̥˚✧

It was this gnawing feeling, this feeling of dread, sorrow, a pain in his gut he couldn't shake. Watching you go as he leaned against the window frame, he knew where you were going. He knew, he just had this gut feeling that he couldn't quite shake. It ate at his heart, it ate at his brain, it was like these cogs and wheels working, but not in a way of rationality. His thoughts were completely irrational. Looking out that window as your carriage vanished into the thick fog of the dawn, he felt so lost, so angry. He wasn't happy, and not happy may be quite an understatement.

Placing a hand-rolled cigarette between his lips he grabbed a match from the fireplace and lit it. The smoke bellowed above, tossing the match into the fire he turned to see his mother sitting at the table.

"She does not have love for you anymore, Alexei." She stated. Her tone appeared caring, honest, maybe even having pity, but it was just because she didn't like you.

"She must love me. That is my wife, she must." He stated he didn't seem demanding about it, he seemed sad, heartbroken even.

"But she does not. She will never love you as she loves him. What married woman is happy with her husband? She has grown bored of you. Had she not she would not go to him as she does." She points out.

His heart, if it was a glass a cat had pushed off the counter it would have shattered. He only hoped that you were as enraptured by him as he was about you. He looked up at the wall, the painting of you seemed to be watching. He closed his stormy blue eyes and looked back at his mother.

"She does love me. I know it to be true. You speak lies, like a snake in the garden." He snapped and walked to the table and had taken a sip from the slightly sweetened tea he had poured only moments before your leaving. Sitting there he tapped his smoke against a small crystal ashtray and his mind became overrun, thinking of everything his mother had stated. Thinking of those possibilities. What were you doing? Were you spreading your legs for him? Was he satisfying you? Were you unhappy with him? Did you not love him? Did you grow bored of him? He rubbed his lip a moment as he took another drag before looking at his mother.

"When she comes home, I will settle this." He stated. Taking the cup and his almost-gone smoke and had vanished to the bedroom. He sits on the edge of the bed after putting the cup on the bedside table and looks over your side of the bed. It was too much, these feelings he had, it was like they were just bubbling up, ready to overflow and put out the fire that kept the pot lit. Feeling the stinging in his nose from the slight anger he ran his hand through his curly blonde locks and his jaw clenched as he put his smoke out in the ashtray and grabbed his clothes for getting dressed before he slammed the bedroom door.

His mother had heard the slam and had made her way to the room. Letting herself in she looked over him and sighed. "I just want what is best for you."

"I said I would take care of it. I do not need your help. She is my wife, not yours." He sort of snapped.

"You are right, she is your wife. And your wife is off with another man, spreading her legs and enjoying her time away from you. So how are you going to handle that Alexei?" She asked.

"I will take her away from here. I will take her far away from everyone. Including you." He snapped. "Now if you do not mind, I am getting dressed. Go find something else to bother." He snarled slightly as he escorted her out of the doorway and closed and locked the bedroom door.

Looking out the bedroom window and looking over the garden, he watched the flowers bob from the heaviness of the heads that were filled with the morning dew. It was something so simple, and yet even looking at their beauty, he saw you, he saw your smile, your smooth skin, your curves, he saw how your hair fell, that glow in your eyes when you were happy. You had to love him, why was he questioning it? Why was he standing there, looking out on those flowers questioning if you loved him?! With a clenched jaw and a knitted brow, he threw open the closet door and grabbed his attire for the day.

After fastening the last button on his coat, he makes his way back to the kitchen- it's like he doesn't want to acknowledge the other parts of the home without you here. Feeling lost, and one track minded. He didn't like that you were gone, it loomed over him like a dark cloud heavy with rain looms over the dirt countryside roads. He needed to know where you were going. He needed to know what you were doing. He needed to know what you were saying. Were you tired of him? Were you unhappy? It just gnawed at him like a beaver gnawing on a log.

Why was this even a feather of a thought? It's not that he didn't want you to have friends, it's just, why did they have to be male friends? And even then, it wasn't the idea of male friends that bothered him, it was the embedded, plated thoughts from the snake in the garden that made him believe that you were unhappy, that you were not in love with him any longer, that you were looking for a way out of this relationship. Well, that was going to be nipped in the bud right away. There was going to be no second-guessing it, not after this.

He decided to gather himself a little more and decided to head out to find you. He had these questions that needed answers. He turned to look at his mother who was still there. "Watch the house while I am away. We will be gone for a while." He states. His mother went to speak but before she could retort with a comment he was out the door and off to the stables.

After a few hours of looking and getting a general idea of where you were he stopped, getting off the carriage he approached, standing a good distance behind as you stood there, talking to another man. Oh, this did not sit well with him, but he watched and observed. With a lick of his lips and a look of heartache, as you touched the other man's face, he couldn't help but feel that slithering snake of a mother of his was right.

The more he watched, the more you laughed, the closer this man seemed to be getting to you, and the more it climbed up him like ivy claiming lattice fencing. This green envious monster coils around his every nerve, his nostrils flair as he walks toward you and clears his throat, but you don't pay much attention until he grabs your arm and pulls you to him.

You gasp and look over his face. "My Love, what are you doing here?" You ask him.

"I could ask you the very same." He states. His stare was cold, his stare pained, and his stare… it bore into you like a hot glue gun into plastic.

"I am just out with a friend, we do this every week. It means nothing." You state honestly.

"Does it? Does it really mean nothing? You were touching his face, and laughing with him like you do with me. Do I not make you happy anymore? Have you grown bored and weary of me?" He asks you with a small shake in his voice almost as if holding back tears.

"Of course you make me happy, why would you ask such a thing?" you respond back looking into his stormy blue hues.

His jaw clenches and he looks at your friend and back to you. "We are leaving." He states as if dismissing you from your date with your male friend.

"What? No. Alexei, no." you stated.

"I do not know him, nor do I like how you were touching him, we are going somewhere. You'll like it. Get in." he states and gestures to the carriage.

"Alexei, no." You state firmly.

He clenches his jaw and looks over you. "Do not make me put you in there myself. Now. Be a good wife, and get in the carriage." He snarls lowly.

Licking your lips you look over his face and let out a slight breath before getting into the carriage. Feeling the shake of the carriage from the door closing. Placing your hands in your lap you look down, studying them a moment before you close your eyes almost in defeat, and wonder where he is taking you. It was clear he wasn't taking you home. Why was he suddenly acting this way? What was it that made him feel like you were unhappy? You began to study yourself, you even began to question yourself. But why? His actions alone.

His actions just then made you question if this was really where you needed to be. But the more you thought about it, the more you realized that maybe he was seeing something you were not seeing. Were you really happier with your friend than you were with him? Was he not seeing how much you loved him? Were you really doing something bad? You turn back and look at him as he stops the carriage and climbs into the back of it with you as someone else takes over. Someone he had paid to drop you both off and take the carriage back to the house.

You sit there, in silence, and you study him, you study his face, his eyes, how his jaw twitches, how his brow knits, how his eyes seem to be full of sorrow, and maybe is that hate? You look down, and you think about all you've done, but you can't help but shake your head. You love this man, and he was blind to false things. Was there a way to fix it? Was there a way to get him to see that you love him just as much as he loves you?

"Where are we going? There is nothing for miles." You point out looking out the little window of the carriage door.

"We're going someplace secluded." He states.

"Secluded? Whatever for?" You ask with a slight bit of worry in your tone.

"Enough with the questions, you will see when we get there." He states, short in his tone.

You lick your lips and hike a brow before looking back down at your lap and letting out a slight sigh. You feel this could get problematic.

By the time you get to where you were going, the sun had already set and come back up. You look over his face as he offers to help you off the carriage. Your jaw clenches and you shake your head.

"Are you serious? Why are we here? We are days away from home at this rate Alexie." You point out.

HE shakes his head and looks at you and looks over the country home before looking back at you. "You will survive. This is for a reason."

"THIS IS ABSURD!" You scream. The only thing you cause to stir is birds out in the field. Your jaw clenches and you look over him shoving past him and heading toward the inside.

He sighs slightly and shakes his head, he isn't expecting you to understand. Rubbing his brow a moment he looks up at the gray skies and then over on the vast rolling fields of nothing. A small smile creeps across his face as he listens to the front door being slammed. Another soft sigh escapes his lips as he heads toward the house.

Upon walking in he looks around and spots you standing there in the living room. As he walks toward you to join you, you turn and look at him.

"What is all of this about?" You ask.

"You need to see how much love I have for you. I cannot do that back there." He stated honestly.

"So you isolate me?!" You raise your tone.

"Yes! It keeps you away from another man touching you!" He snaps.

"NO ONE ELSE IS TOUCHING ME!" You snap back.

"HOW DO I KNOW?!" He steps closer to you.

"No. You don't get to ask me that question! How do you not see that I love you!? I have always loved you!" You snarl as you step forward challenging him.

"Well, I suppose now you can show me just how much you love me as I show you how much I love you." He stated coldly.

"Don't be so pigeon-livered." You growl to yourself. "You're being a floozer Alexei. What has ever gotten into you?" You ask him.

"Are you really going to throw insults at me? Pigeon-livered? Floozer? Do not." He grips your arm and pulls you close. "Do not cross me."

You shove him and look over his face. "Or what?" You ask with a tightly knitted brow. "What are you going to do?"

Stretching his neck from left to right he licks his lips and his jaw clenched.

"WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO DO?!" You snapped.

"WHAT DO YOU WANT ME TO DO?!" He snapped back. He began to pace. "All I ever do is shower you with love and attention, I do nothing but prove to you how much you mean to me. I make sure you always put your best forward. And you do this. Run off with another man doing god knows what." He states.

Crossing your arms over your chest you stare at him a moment and blink a few times. "Are you blinded by your own selfishness right now? Can you not see past your own nose? I am not laying with another man Alexei! I have never laid with another man!" you snap.

"HOW DO I KNOW THAT?!" He snaps. "How do I know that?" He asked you. A complete and utter look of defeat sprawled across his features.

Walking to him you slap him across the face. Not once, but twice. Reaching forward he grips your throat and moves you through the house. Kicking open a door he shoves you into the bedroom and starts to unbutton his jacket. Looking over you his eyes hungry. His snarl was fierce, his jaw clenched so hard you could hear the bones grinding and you could feel the flex of his jaw. You try to shove past him but that wasn't happening.

"What are you going to do rape me Alexei?" You ask.

He scoffed and looked over at you. "Do you think that little of me? Strip." He demands.

"No." You cross your arms. At this point, you were fighting him to fight, how far could you push?

"I said strip!" He demands again. Walking to you he spins you around and starts to untie your skirt.

Layer by layer you fight, until you are both stripped down to mere thin layers. Tears staining your face, you look over him and shake your head, a small thumping sound of your heart feeling like it was echoing in the room.

"All I have ever wanted was for you to love me. You have to love me, you must love me." He states. He steps closer to you, looking over you he grips your face and pulls you near. "You will love me. You will." He states firmly.

Scared at this point you cannot find your words. He presses his lips to yours and at first, you give in, you cave, you wrap your arms around him and kiss him deeply, lovingly, longing for that affection he wanted to give you, but then you start to push away, saddened by the fact that he couldn't believe you, that he had no trust in you.

"No…" You start to push away, but you didn't want him to at the same time, it was this conflicting feeling.

"Do not tell me no, you want this…" he points out as he listens to your breathing.

You have no means of responding.

"I'm not taking that as a no." he states.

You give him a cold stare, looking over his face, his lips press against yours and you shove him back, and he throws you to the bed. You bounce once before he climbs on top of you and looks you over. He tilts his head and looks over your face and takes your wrists and places them above your head and looks over your face intently.

You attempt to wiggle free but he hovers over you, his body pressed against yours. In one hand he has your hands gripped together, in the other hand hikes up your skirt, he looks over you, and he leans in and nips at your lips. Your breathing becomes heavier, and you close your eyes. Shaking your head you begin to breathe heavier. It felt good, his hands on you, it always felt good, but there was this sense of fight that also washed over you.

As his lips found your neck he kissed up your neck to your jaw, finding your lips. While you loved his affection, you were terrified. Literally scared of him.

"Get off of me." you demand.

"Let me show you. See how much I love you." He takes your hand and places it on his hard cock. "This is how much I love you." He states.

You pull your hand away and turn your head in another direction. His senses overwhelm him, and unable to control himself he groans softly as he presses himself against you. You turn your head away from him, maybe checking out, but at the same time ever so present in this moment. As he thrusts himself into you you take in a deep breath. A whimper leaves your lips as a groan leaves his.

Looking over you he observes your features as he turns your face to look at him, leaning in he kisses you again. And it was then you cave, just a little. Your lips pressed against his, your hand moved up his arms to his hair and you pull him closer. Your hips roll against his thrusts and you begin to whimper against his lips. The feeling of him against you was something you always loved. Truthfully you never questioned this man's love for you. But you were conflicted because of how he was coming at you. You didn't know if you should fight him, or cave to him a little more.

The more he thrusts the harder he becomes in his motions, the more you fight. But the more you fight, the more he growls, it was a conflicting feeling all over again and you aren't sure what to do, it was overwhelming. You push him away, shoving him but he pulls you closer.

Feeling your body flush against his you let out another soft whimper. You move your hands to his shoulders as you feel him thrust deeper into you, your moans escaping you were almost pained but yet pleasure-filled. Your hips rolled against his as he continued to thrust with a fever. He pulls you even closer to him, pulling you into his lap as he guides you along his stiffened cock, nuzzling into you, nipping and biting at you.

The moans fill the bedroom, bouncing off the windows and the walls, and while you might be fighting him because of his choice of actions, this man was your life. You kiss him deeply as you both moan in pure pleasure. Your bodies collide in such a raw motion. Thrust after thrust, grunt, and groan after grunt and groan, screams of pure euphoria leaving you both. It all came to a halt with a trembling body-shaking finish, feeling as his cock twitched inside of you as hot ribbons of seed coat your velvet walls. He snarled against your skin, and you bring a hand across his face, and you begin to cry.

Holding you close, he looks down at you, smoothing your hair he presses his face against you.

"Shh… now now, everything is alright. I love you, so much." He whispers. "You have to love me back, you just have to." he says softly.

"I… I do love you, Alexei. I do. I wish you would see that." you say between sniffles.

He holds you close, nuzzling against you. "Shall we draw you a bath?" He asks.

Nodding your head he looks over your face and nods. "I shall draw you a bath. Think about what I said." He states.

"Are you isolating me? From everyone?" you ask as he gets up and slips his pants back on.

With a firm stare, he looks over you. "I am, and it's for our own good. You won't be seeing him, we will stay here as long as it takes." He states truthfully.

And like that, your heart becomes conflicted, you love this man, but you feel scared of this man… but then you look at him, and you don't feel afraid anymore. You just want him to see that you do love him. It's conflicting, and it's terrifying, you love him, but is it true? Staying here, you're only choice is to grow to love him. But that's been his goal all along, for you to love him, and for him to show you in so many ways how he loves you.

[literatureloverx]

Eeeeh!!! Your writing is just! Too good! This should be your full time job. I think my brain has overloaded with request ideas. I'm sorry...I'll try and contain myself. But..if you want to please either of these...

Fyodor and bondage...please let's go there.

Fyodor general relationship headcanons (guys clearly yandere by nature..but how does that look for his darling.)

❤️

Thank you so much for the huge compliment, dear!♥️ I wish I could live off of this.

I’m so sorry it took me so long to write this. Please, please forgive me.♥️

I’d love to hear all your ideas and requests! I’m a slow writer, so it takes me some time to complete posts, but I’ll get to them eventually. Please don’t hesitate to share—though it may take a while, I’ll get there!♥️

I wrote bondage headcanons + a scenario. I’m not trying to be arrogant, but I think it might be some of my best work so far.

Mdni, yandere!Fyodor, wife!reader, sub!reader, dom!Fyodor, bondage, VERY detailed.

Note: You have a huge mirror on top of your canopy bed. Which means: you can see every single filthy thing he’s about to do to you.

The headcanons are under the first cut, the scenario is under the second cut.

Enjoy.♥️

Fyodor & Bondage

"You and me... your eyes wide open, wrists bound to the bed, and my hands marking every inch of your skin as mine."

Headcanons

Fyodor Dostoyevsky's obsession with control isn't simply a trait—it's a reflection of his very nature, an extension of the meticulous mind that crafts every move in his life like a grand game of chess.

In the bedroom, this need for control manifests in ways that blur the line between cruelty and devotion, creating a deeply intimate yet unsettling dynamic between you.

He doesn't tie you up just for the sake of it; every knot, every piece of silk that binds your wrists to the bedposts, is an act of art in itself.

He takes pleasure in the delicate balance between pain and pleasure, understanding how the tension in the bonds heightens your senses.

The way your chest rises and falls with each breath, constrained by the bindings, is a symphony to his ears—a rhythm he orchestrates with masterful precision.

Fyodor's control is not just physical; it's psychological, a deep-seated need to own not just your body but your mind.

He whispers in your ear as he works, his voice a soft, dangerous lullaby that wraps around you, lacing his words with a poison that makes you crave his touch even more.

He knows your thoughts before you do, anticipates your desires, and then dangles them just out of reach until you're nearly frantic with need.

To him, the act of binding you isn't about restraint; it's about possession.

Each time he ties you down, he's reminding you —and himself— that you are his to keep, his to protect, and his to break if he so wishes.

The marks he leaves on your skin are not just evidence of your encounters but symbols of his ownership—a canvas of bruises and bites that declare to the world that you belong to the Fyodor Dostoyevsky and no one else (though he would never allow you to flaunt them to anyone).

In these moments, as you lie there, every inch of you under his control, you understand something about him that no one else does.

He craves beauty, not just in the art he admires or the music he plays, but in the way he manipulates you, his perfect creation.

He takes you apart piece by piece, only to put you back together again, stronger, more bound to him than ever.

And then there's the mirror—his favorite tool of seduction and domination.

Positioned above your shared kingsize bed, it serves as both a reminder and a revelation.

Fyodor loves to make you watch yourself as he works, forcing you to witness the way your body responds to him.

The sight of you in the mirror, bound, gagged, vulnerable, with his hands marking your skin, is a reflection of his power over you.

He enjoys the way your eyes, those beautiful, expressive eyes he refuses to cover, reflect both your submission and your defiance, the internal battle he has mastered like a seasoned conductor.

Fyodor is not a man of brute force; his strength lies in subtlety, in the way he makes you crave the very bondage that holds you down.

It's in the way he can make a single touch linger on your skin like fire, the way he can make you beg for mercy with nothing more than a glance.

His pleasure comes not just from your surrender but from the knowledge that you choose to surrender to him, time and time again.

He has cultivated your dependence on him with a precision that rivals any strategist's plan, making sure that even in your freedom, you're never truly free.

And yet, in this dark dance of power and submission, there is an undeniable tenderness.

Fyodor cherishes you, his fragile, soft, perfect little wife.

Every time he binds you, it's not just about taking control—it's about giving you something as well.

The security of his dominance, the assurance that he knows exactly what you need, even when you don't.

He molds you, not out of cruelty, but out of love, a love so intense it manifests in ways others might find terrifying.

He knows every inch of your body, every weakness, every secret pleasure.

And he uses this knowledge to break you down, only to build you back up again, shaping you into the perfect reflection of his desires.

It's a process that's as intimate as it is intense, a bond that goes beyond mere physical connection.

In Fyodor's eyes, you are more than just his wife—you are his masterpiece, a living, breathing testament to his power, his control, and his love.

And as he watches you, bound and beautiful beneath him, he knows that this is where you belong—by his side, in his arms, forever under his control.

Scenario

Fyodor Dostoyevsky's mastery over you is a delicate art, a carefully crafted symphony where each note resonates with the tension of control and submission.

As Fyodor watches you from above, your body spread before him like an exquisite canvas, his eyes darken with a possessive intensity.

The mirror reflects every angle of your submission, every quiver of anticipation that runs through you. He revels in this moment, savoring the power he holds, not just over your body but your very soul.

He doesn't rush; every movement, every touch, is measured, as if he's composing a piece of music where you are the instrument, and your body, bound and trembling, plays the melody of his desires.

When he binds you, it's not simply to restrict your movement.

No, for Fyodor, the act of bondage is a ritual, a way to elevate your shared experience to something almost sacred.

The babypink silk ropes he uses are chosen with care, soft against your skin, yet firm enough to hold you in place.

The knots he ties are intricate, each one a reflection of his calculated mind, designed to allow just enough movement to keep you on edge, but never enough to break free.

The ropes bite into your flesh, not painfully, but just enough to remind you of your submission to him.

The tension in the ropes mirrors the tension in your body, a taut line that could snap at any moment, but never does, because Fyodor is in control, always.

Your legs are spread wide, ankles secured to the bedposts, leaving you open and vulnerable to him.

He takes his time, his gaze traveling over every inch of you, as if committing the sight to memory. There's something almost clinical about the way he studies you, but there is a dark hunger in his eyes that betrays the possessiveness underneath.

He moves with the grace of a predator, each action calculated, deliberate.

His hands glide down your sides, his touch light and teasing, sending shivers up your spine. He pauses at the curve of your hips, fingers digging in just enough to leave a mark, a small, cruel smile playing on his lips as he watches your reflection flinch at the sharpness.

It's a reminder—every bruise, every bite he leaves on your pale skin is a declaration of ownership, his signature on the masterpiece that is you.

He reaches up, tangling a hand in your hair, soft strands slipping through his fingers like silk. His grip tightens, and he pulls your head back, exposing your neck, your chest, as if offering them up for him to mark.

"So fragile," he murmurs, more to himself than to you, his breath hot against your skin.

There's an odd mix of reverence and cruelty in his tone, as if he's marveling at how easily he could break you, yet relishing the fact that you trust him not to. Not entirely, at least.

Fyodor leans down, his lips brushing over the sensitive skin of your neck, before he bites down hard enough to draw a gasp from you. The sting is sharp, sending a rush of heat straight to your core, and you feel his smirk against your skin.

He pulls back to admire the red mark blooming on your neck, satisfaction gleaming in his eyes.

"Perfect," he says softly, and there's something almost affectionate in his voice, a rare glimpse of the man behind the mask that you know so, so well.

But the softness is fleeting. His hand leaves your hair, trailing down your body, fingers brushing over the marks he's left, over the ropes that hold you in place. He's in no rush, savoring every moment, every reaction he pulls from you.

You feel his hands on your thighs, cool fingers tracing the sensitive skin there, and you can't help the way your breath hitches in anticipation.

His fingers dance over your skin, teasing the sensitive spot there, before moving higher, where you're already wet and aching for him.

He's not even touching you where you need him most, but that's the point, isn't it?

Fyodor revels in your desperation, in the way you squirm under his gaze, every nerve in your body alight with need.

He leans down, his breath hot against your inner thigh, and you shiver at the proximity. But instead of giving you what you crave, he moves away, his lips curling into a knowing smirk.

"Patience, my love," he murmurs, his voice low and teasing, the kind that sends a shiver down your spine.

Fyodor enjoys making you wait, dragging out the anticipation until it's nearly unbearable. He knows exactly what he's doing, knows that with every second he makes you wait, your desire for him only grows.

The mirror above you captures everything—the way your body arches off the bed, the way your lips part in a silent plea, the way your eyes, wide and desperate, lock onto his in the reflection. Fyodor makes sure you see it all, makes sure you understand the full extent of your submission.

You are his, bound and laid bare for his pleasure, and the sight of you like this, helpless and needy, fuels his own arousal.

He's still fully clothed, a stark contrast to your nakedness, and that only heightens the sense of power imbalance. He's in control, and you wouldn't have it any other way.

His hands move to your breasts, fingers tracing the curves, brushing over your nipples until they harden under his touch.

He takes one in his mouth, sucking gently at first, then biting down just hard enough to elicit a gasp from you. The pain mingles with pleasure, sending a jolt straight to your core, and you tug at the ropes instinctively, your body craving more.

But Fyodor isn't done teasing you yet. He lavishes attention on your other breast, leaving a trail of bruises in his wake, each mark a reminder of his possession.

When he finally, finally, moves lower, you're a trembling mess, your body practically vibrating with need.

Without warning, his fingers slide over your slick folds, parting them with ease, and he lets out a low hum of approval. Your body arches in response, a strangled moan escaping your lips.

"So wet for me, already, мышка?" he muses, his tone darkly amused.

His fingers dip inside you, curling just right, and you can't stop the moan that escapes your lips. He pumps them slowly, torturously slow, his thumb circling your clit with just enough pressure to drive you mad.

"Look at yourself," he commands, and your eyes are drawn back to the mirror. The sight is overwhelming—your body laid bare, trembling under his touch, your face flushed with desire, and his reflection, calm, controlled, a stark contrast to your desperation.

He adds another finger, curling them inside you just so, hitting that spot that makes you see stars.

You can feel yourself edging closer and closer to release, but just when you think he'll let you come, he pulls away, leaving you gasping, on the brink but not quite there.

Fyodor's laugh is low, dark, vibrating through you as he watches your frustration build.

"Not yet, my love," he murmurs, his voice like velvet, wrapping around you, suffocating in its intensity.

He watches you, taking in every twitch, every whimper, as you struggle against the bonds, desperate for more. But Fyodor isn't interested in your pleasure now, not entirely.

He's interested in your submission, in the way he can bring you to the edge again and again, only to pull you back, making you beg for him, for his touch, for his mercy.

And he does make you beg. He makes you plead with those beautiful eyes of yours, makes you promise anything, everything, if he'll just let you come.

But your dear husband is disciplined, and he takes his time, drawing out your torture until you're nearly sobbing with need. He loves this—the power he holds over you, the way he can make you lose yourself so completely in him.

It's intoxicating, a heady rush that he will never tire of.

When he finally decides you've had enough, he doesn't give you what you want immediately. He teases you with his length, sliding it against your entrance, rubbing it over your swollen clit, making you writhe beneath him.

"Keep your eyes open," he whispers, his voice a dark, velvety command that sends a thrill of both fear and excitement through you.

Fyodor has no need to raise his voice; the sheer authority laced in his words is enough to ensure your obedience.

"Look at me," he commands. Your eyes flutter open and snap to his, where you see the cold, calculating gleam, before shifting to the mirror.

He wants you to see yourself as he does—beautiful, vulnerable, utterly his.

He shifts, positioning himself between your legs, his hands gripping your hips with a bruising force as he lines himself up with you.

But before he pushes in, he pauses, "I want you to watch," he says, his voice low, commanding, brooking no argument. "Watch how I claim what is mine, моя любимая.”

You nod softly, almost pathetically, and watch as he pushes inside you, slow and deliberate, filling you inch by inch until he's seated deep within you.

He thrusts into you, hard and deep, and you can't hold back the cry that escapes your lips. The stretch, the fullness, is overwhelming, and Fyodor doesn't give you a moment to adjust. The sensation is overwhelming as well, and you cry out, your body straining against the bonds, desperate for more.

“The gag…looks so beautiful on you, love..”~

He pulls back only to slam into you again, setting a brutal pace that has you gasping for breath, your body straining against the ropes that bind you.

The mirror reflects it all—the way your body jerks with each thrust, the way your hands clench and unclench in their bindings, the way your eyes, wide and glassy with pleasure, never leave his.

He sets a slow, torturous pace, drawing out every thrust, making sure you feel every inch of him. The pleasure is almost too much, and yet not enough, and you can't help but whimper, begging him with your eyes to go faster, to let you come. But Fyodor is in no hurry.

He watches you, watches the way your face contorts with pleasure, the way your body responds to him, and he drinks it in, savoring the power he has over you.

Fyodor watches you, his gaze never wavering, taking in every detail, every expression, as he drives you closer and closer to the edge.

"Such a good girl," he murmurs, his voice a harsh whisper as he leans down, his breath hot against your ear.

"Taking me so well, so beautifully."

His praise is laced with possession, a dark undercurrent that only heightens your arousal. You can feel the tension building, the coil tightening in your belly, ready to snap at any moment.

Fyodor's thrusts become more erratic, more desperate, as he nears his own release. He shifts his angle slightly, and suddenly he's hitting that spot inside you with every thrust, driving you wild with pleasure.

You can feel yourself teetering on the brink, so close, so achingly close, and you can't help the way your body arches, seeking more, seeking him.

When he finally does let you come, it's with a rough, punishing thrust that sends you spiraling over the edge.

"Come for me," Fyodor orders, his voice rough with need, and it's all you need to push you over the edge.

Your orgasm crashes through you, violent and overwhelming, your vision going white as wave after wave of pleasure rips through you. The orgasm rips through you, powerful and all-consuming, and he doesn't stop, prolonging your pleasure until you're a trembling, incoherent mess beneath him, tears of sheer ecstasy slipping down your cheeks.

He follows soon after, his release shuddering through him, and he holds you close, his breath hot against your ear as he murmurs soft, possessive words, claiming you all over again. He holds you there, his grip on your hips almost painful, burying himself deep inside you as he spills into you, a low, guttural moan escaping him as he does, grounding himself in the feeling of you wrapped so tightly around him.

For a moment, the world seems to stand still, the only sound the harsh breathing of the two of you, the only movement the slight tremors that still wrack your body.

Then, slowly, Fyodor pulls out, a satisfied smirk playing on his lips as he takes in the sight of you—utterly spent, bound, marked, and completely his.

He takes his time untying you, his touch surprisingly gentle as he massages your wrists, soothing the marks left by the ropes. He unties you with a tenderness that's almost jarring after the intensity of what you just shared.

He rubs soothing circles into your wrists, kisses the marks he's left on your skin, and pulls you into his arms, pressing soft kisses to your temple, your cheeks, as he murmurs words of praise and affection, a stark contrast to the roughness from before.

In the aftermath, as you lie there in his arms, completely exhausted, you feel a strange sense of contentment wash over you.

Fyodor has pushed you to your limits, taken you apart and put you back together, and in doing so, has only strengthened the bond between you.

You are his, in every sense of the word.

Fyodor may be a man who craves control, but he's not without care. He cherishes you, his fragile little wife, and in these moments, when you're sated and secure in his embrace, you understand the depths of his love for you.

You belong to him, body and soul, and as you drift off to sleep in his arms, you know that there's no place you'd rather be.

Fyodor has claimed you, bound you to him in every way that matters, and you wouldn't change a thing.

In his arms, in his control, you are exactly where you belong.

~

FYODOR’S MASTERLIST => HERE

TO MY OTHER WORKS => HERE

[bumblebeesfromvenus]

Deck the Halls 🎻

Bale!Bruce Wayne x Wife!reader

A/N: This is the ultimate crossover, Bale!Bruce and Christmas, what more could you want??? I don't know quite how I feel about it mainly because I wrote most of it at 3 am lmao. Love-hate relationship, I guess. I hope you like it, anyway!

~Fi 🐝

Fi's Christmas Market ☃️

Warnings: implied angst?? Mention of his parents' death (very briefly), so much fluff omg, starring Alfred, Selina, and Lucius, Bruce is obsessed with you <3

Word count: 3.6k

Please don't copy my work! I put a lot of effort and heart into the things I write.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫

"A Gingerbread house contest?"

Bruce gave you a skeptical look as you explained your idea for the annual Wayne Yule Ball. You were sitting at the meeting table in the office of Wayne Enterprises, brain storming ideas to make this years Gala a little more interesting. The events were always quite boring, the only thing keeping your spirits up was the bar most of the time.

You'd occasionally hang around on the side lines with Alfred, people-watching Gothams wealth. This year had to be different. You were sick and tired of the fad and dragging evenings.

This was the Yule Ball, after all. The Manor would be decked in lights and ornaments, the lovely tunes of Christmas would echo through the halls and you'd actually have some fun for once.

Bruce would try to make them more bearable for you, inviting you to dance as much as he could, even if it earned him detesting looks. He wasn't a huge fan either, but it was his duty. He'd rather be curled up with you, feeling your warmth against his skin while doing your favorite festive activities.

Selina was seated next to you, twirling a pen between her fingers, looking like she was about to collapse from boredom. Alfred sat next to Bruce with a notepad, writing down any ideas that had come forth. Lucius was there too, of course, hoping to aid in any technical things.

"Yeah, why not? We need to do something interesting this year, and a making Gingerbread houses is a pretty classic activity, no?" You responded, shrugging slightly.

"I'll definitely come to the Ball if you pull through with that." Selina smirked. Bruce sighed, rubbing a hand over his face.

"Are you sure this is a good idea, honey? I mean, most of the people that attend aren't really ones to get their hands dirty."

"If I may, Master Bruce, I think it's a great idea." Alfred interrupted politely, making you smile. "I think it's important for the rich of Gotham to not lose touch with the average life. And, it'd be quite sweet, wouldn't it?"

Alfred grinned, proud of the pun he just made. You let put a small giggle while Selina and Lucius were smiling slightly. Bruce, on the other hand, sighed as his brows pulled together.

"Alright, so if we do this, who's going to be the judge?" He asked, finally caving in to your request.

"I knew you'd come around," you smiled, watching as a smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth, "I think it's pretty obvious. Alfred should judge the houses."

"Me? Miss, I'm flattered but I don't think I have the expertise to-"

"Nonesense, Alfie," Selina cut him off, "We've all seen what you can do in the kitchen. If anyone's going to judge anything, it should be you."

"I agree. He does make a mean Victoria Sponge." Luscius agreed, his reasoning strong enough to make Alfred ponder for a moment.

"It doesn't just have to be houses. We can just give them creative freedom, let them go at it." You suggested, earning nods of approval.

"I can't believe I'm about to say this," Selina mumbled, inhaling a sharp breath,"What if we make it a family event? Let them bring their kids. They'd probably be more open to the whole idea that way."

"Good thinking, Miss Kyle."

Bruce chewed on his lips as he thought. This would be very different than most years. His parents had started the tradition of a yearly Yule Ball, and he was afraid to make changes. But then he thought back to how his parents always tried to keep a somewhat humble life to be able to help the people in need more efficiently. Also, he could never say no to you.

"Okay. Why not. Even if they don't enjoy it, at least we'll have a good time." He smiled softly, looking at you. You almost beamed with excitment.

"We need a price too, right? What's the point of a contest without a price." Selina intervened. A silence fell over the room as everyone was thinking of what the price coule be.

"I say we give the winner an hour with Bruce's credit card and see how much damage they can do." You snorted, meaning it as a joke but when you weren't met with disagreement a surpirsed expression took over your face.

"Fine by me." Bruce shrugged. You forgot that he was a billionaire sometimes.

"Well, I wasn't expecting that but that just upped my determination by 100%." Selina grinned, making Bruce roll his eyes.

Bruce started talking to Lucius about the organizational aspects while you discreetly high fived Selina under the table. You'd talked about this idea before, your friend mostly finding it funny that the most esteemed people of Gotham would have to struggle with sprinkles and sticky icing.

She was quite impressed you pulled through, although that Bruce agreed wasn't a surprise to her. He'd do about anything you asked, which she sometimes used to her advantage.

"You truly have him wrapped around your finger, huh?" Selina mused, sending a sly smirk your way. You leaned back in your chair, inspecting the shimmering wedding band on your hand.

"Well, he wouldn't have put a ring on it if I hadn't." You grinned, making Selina shake her head with a chuckle.

"When do I need to be there to see Gotham get down and dirty?"

"December 25th, 8:00 pm, Wayne Manor."

"See ya then." The brunette gave you one last grin before taking her leave, claiming she had some 'business' to attend to. The so called 'business' would surely end up on the front page of the Gotham Gazette tomorrow morning. She was a great friend despite her passion for her illegal hobby. You couldn't really blame her, though. She'd grown up with nothing, and had to fight to survive.

You were the last one to complain if one of Gothams renowned business men mysteriously lost a couple of million dollars, which then appeared donated to a charity the next day. She'd never steal from you, or Bruce.

That's not to say she hadn't tried, but Selina did find that Martha's necklace suited you just a tad better than her. She had quite the soft spot for you, you weren't like the rest of the wealthy people she knew. You were honest, understanding and kind. Selina put a great amount of trust in you and she knew you'd never break it. If that meant having to put up with Bruce once in a while, so be it.

Alfred slipped into the seat next to you, Bruce and Luscius still discussing the guest list, when to send the invites, and to order all the necessary things for the contest.

"Truly a marvelous idea, Mrs. Wayne. He never dared to make any changes before you came along, you know?"

You turned you head towards him, a slight blush on your cheeks. Did you really have that much of an impact on him? To think that you were the one that made the Bruce Wayne soften and be more open to change made your heart swell with pride.

"Really? I thought he just never cared that much. For the Ball, I mean." You said, intrigued of what you were about to learn from Alfred about your beloved Husband.

"No, no, not at all. It was his favorite thing as a boy. What I'd do to see him happy like that again." The older man sighed, a melancholic tint in his eyes.

You smiled at the thought of Bruce being excited for Christmas. Just being a boy. You reckoned all of that changed after his parents' death. The warm and loving holiday was now left in gray dullness and the emptiness that he felt in his heart when he'd sit under the tree, all alone, yearning for a hug from his father and the gentle touch of his mothers lips on his cheek.

You were determined to fill that void, shower him in all your love until the gaping hole in his chest was fixed. Who knew if it was possible, but you were willing to give it your all.

"You will, I promise." You replied softly, gently placing your hand on his arm. Alfred gave you an appreciative smile, the sadness in his eyes wavering slightly. He softly padded your hand, resting it on it for a moment.

"You make him so happy already, though. I suppose I can't complain too much, can I?" He joked, making you laugh softly.

"I'm just loving him, that's all."

"That's all he needed." Alfred smiled softly.

Bruce glanced over to you, his heart pouding with pure love as he saw you laughing with Alfred. His two favorite people were getting along so well, it made unbridled joy bloom in his chest. You had changed his life, only for the better, you made him feel like a person again.

For years he'd been aimlessly wandering, hoping to find himself. He was lost in the dark, going through life pretending to be someone he wasn't. Or was he? He didn't know. But you were his guiding light, your gentle flicker lighting up his path. Your soft warmth getting him through many a cold night when the thoughts of self doubt and fear were gnawing at him.

All he needed was you pressed against his chest, your soft breathing like a sweet lullaby to him as you slept peacefully in his arms.

"Mister Wayne? Mister Wayne-" Lucius voice broke him out of his daydream, his back straightend and he cleared his throat, hoping no one caught him. You were still chatting on with Alfred, so you hadn't noticed, good. But when he looked over to Lucius, there was a knowing smirk on the man's face.

"Yes, Mr. Fox? Do you have the guest list ready?" Bruce questioned, fiddling with his fingers. He looked at Lucius expectantly, trying to hide his slight embarrassment.

"I don't blame you for staring. She fills the role of Mrs. Wayne perfectly." He answered, a gentle smile on his face. Bruce's shoulders immediately dropped, the tension fading away. He let out a small huff through his nose with a tight lipped smile.

"She does, doesn't she? It's like she was made for this. Made for me." He said quietly, the adoring look in his eyes as he admired you not being missed by the Inventor. Lucius placed a hand on his shoulder and gave it a squeeze.

"Why don't you spend the day together? I'll take care of everything." He said reassuringly.

Bruce's eyes widened slightly and he turned to face Lucius.

"Lucius-"

"No, I won't hear it. Go on, spend the day with her." He gave him chuckle before patting his back and gathering his things.

"We're done here, Mrs. Wayne. You can have your husband back." Lucius laughed, packing up the last of his documents. You giggled, which immediately set Bruce's heart aflame.

"How gracious of you, Mr. Fox." You teased, getting out of your chair, Alfred by your side.

"Let's go, my love. We have Christmas movies to watch and a dog to cuddle." You chirped, dragging him out of his chair.

All he could do was smile as he let himself be taken by you and wonder how he got this damn lucky.

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

You were now curled up on the couch, Bruce by your side, his arm draped around you. Your dog, Rudy, was snoozing on your lap as you scratched his head. The extra weight and warmth of your pup made it hard to keep your eyes open.

You were resting comfortably against Bruce, who traced gentle patterns on your arm as he was tentatively watching the TV. A smile tugged at your lips at Bruce's soft breaths, his strong chest falling and rising, lulling you to sleep. Your smile was cut off by a yawn. You lifted your hand from Rudy's head to cover your mouth, but he let out a whine, immediately nudging at your hand.

You chuckled groggily, trying to keep the sleep at bay so you could enjoy your moment with Bruce.

"'M sorry, buddy." You cooed, going back to petting your fur baby.

"You're tired, honey, I'll take over. Go to sleep." Bruce said softly in your ear, gently moving your hand and replacing it with his, making Rudy's tail wag slightly.

"S'your fault for being so warm and comfy and- you." You mumbled, letting your head fall against his shoulder.

"I mean, I can stop." He teased, taking his arm away from around you. You caught his wrist in a surprisingly tight grip.

"Do it and see what happens." You slurred, eyes still closed. Even in your sleepy state, you were still your feisty little self.

"Alright, I'd like to keep my arm, please." He laughed, wrapping his arm around you again, just a little tighter this time. You nuzzled closer to his side, making Rudy begrudgingly adjust his position as well.

"Are you excited for the Yule Ball?" You asked quietly, looking up at your husband as best as you could with sleep tugging at your limbs.

"I am. For the first time in a while, actually. Thanks to you." He replied with a soft smile, placing a chaste kiss on the tip of your nose. A lopsided smile crept onto your face, and you stretched your neck a bit to press a sweet kiss to his lips.

"I love you." You mumbled before finally dozing off with a smile on your face.

"I love you too, honey." Bruce whispered gently, his lips pressed to the top of your head as he sunk into the couch.

He couldn't wait for the Ball. Something he loved so dearly that was tainted for him for many years was now coming back to him brighter than ever. All thanks to you, the lovely woman he chose to marry.

He'd marry you anew every single day if he could.

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

The day had finally come, and you were a nervous wreck. You really didn't want to mess this up. You had big shoes to fill; Martha Wayne was loved by Gotham, and now that you held the title of Mrs. Wayne, you didn't want to disappoint anyone.

Not the people of Gotham, not Martha, but most importantly, not him. You'd been running around like a headless chicken the entire day, double checking everything so nothing could go wrong.

The decorations were being set up, and you might've snapped at a poor worker for hanging one of the garlands a little too much to the right. You were stressed out of your mind, regretting ever suggesting this. Right now, you were checking if all the sheets of Gingerbread had arrived and if all the decorations were set up.

The gentle touch of Bruce's hand on your shoulder snapped you out of the frenzy in your head. He guided you to a quiet corner with a hand on the small of your back.

"Bruce, I have to get back to-"

He interrupted you with a firm kiss, cupping your cheeks.

"No. You're completely stressing yourself out, and we can't have that. I'll take care of everything. And now you need to take care of yourself. Take a bath, get ready, do whatever you need to do. Please, calm down. Everything will be perfect, I promise." He said it so softly you could feel all the anxiety and stress fall away.

You let out a deep breath as you leaned into his touch.

"Okay. Thank you." You sighed with a small smile.

"Good. You know very well that tiring you out is my job." He said lowly with a glint in his eyes. You huffed and playfully hit his arm.

"Go check on the sprinkles."

"Yes, Ma'am."

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

You did as he said, you took a bath to ease the tension in your muscles that had been building up throughout the day.

Now, you were sitting at your vanity, adding some final touches to your make-up. The guest would arrive soon, and you were glad the excitement took over the anxiety.

Bruce walked into your shared bedroom, fixing his cuffs.

"Are you almost ready?" He asked, not looking at you, still fiddling with his suit. You responded with a small 'Mhm!' and walked over to him, brushing some wrinkles out of your gown. When he did look at you, he visibly stopped in his tracks.

You were wearing a green velvet gown with lace accents, and he was completely enarmoured. When his gaze trailed upwards, he caught sight of his mothers necklace sitting around your neck. If you weren't already married, he'd would've proposed right now.

"You look stunning." He breathed out, hie pupils dilated. You chuckled softly, brushing your hand over the lapel of his jacket.

"Thank you. You look quite handsome yourself." You teased, earning a small smirk from him. His hands settled in your waist. Bruce hastily pulled you in for a passionate kiss.

The air was knocked from your lungs as his lips moved so perfectly against yours. You melted into his touch but caught yourself before you'd do something that'd make you two very late.

"Alright," you breathed heavily, steadying your hands on his chest, "that's enough, Lover boy. We have a Ball to host."

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

All the guests had arrived and Bruce stepped into the center of the room, beginning his welcoming speech.

"Welcome, Everyone, I'm very glad you could join us here today for the annual Wayne Yule Ball. This is a tradition that my parents started that I wish to keep on as long as I can."

"This year will be a little different. Courtesy of my lovely wife, Mrs. Wayne," he looked in your direction and reached out his hand for you to take with a gentle smile, which you did without hesitation,"there will be a gingerbread house contest. I see you've brought your little ones and I hope that this will be a pleasant and memorable evening for us all." He ended his speech with a soft smile.

"Feel free to take as much times as you desire. Everything you need is provided, so all you need now is your imagination and creativity." You spoke up.

"Your delicious creations will be judged and the winner gets a nice reward. I hope you have a lovely time and a Merry Christmas!"

There was a small round of applause before old and young scrambled towards the tables decked with gingerbread, sprinkles and icing, to begin their gingerbread builds. You participated too, you'd teamed up with Selina, who had been nursing a flute of champagne until now.

Bruce and Lucius decided to indulge as well, already planning out their engineered masterpiece.

"Let's show 'em our claws." Selina smiled slyly. The lights made her dark blue dress embroidered with sparkling stars stand out. She looked very good this evening.

And Bruce might've paid for that dress... unknowingly.

"You got it, kitty." You replied with a smirk.

You were going the classic route. It would be a house, but more of a whimsical cottage type. Vines if icing were woven around the gingerbread walls, blooming into blankets of Ivy. The roof would be decked in sweet snow and delicate sugar flowers.

Selina couldn't help but add a tiny cat hidden at the back of the house. The atmosphere was delightful, laughter and chatter whisked through the room accompanied by the tunes of Christmas songs.

The decorations that adorned the walls and ceilings of the Manor dipped the room in a warm glow. You decided to glance over at Bruce and Lucius, to see what they'd come up with. When your gaze met their creation the piping bag of icing slipped from your hands and your jaw slacked.

"They built the goddamn batmobile." You said in disbelief, making your partner perk up.

She scoffed and went back to, now aggressively, pushing small sugar decorations into the icing.

"Show offs." Selina grumbled.

Bruce noticed your staring and shot you a toothy grin.

"A sweet ride, don't you think?"

You groaned at his terrible joke and shook your head.

"Unbelievable." You muttered, going back to perfecting your little house.

The chattered had died down as the judging began. Everyone watched in anticipation as Alfred made his way through room, inspecting each Gingerbread sculpture carefully. He made some small comments here and there, mainly on the ones the children had made.

In the end, a little girl and her sister won- they'd built, or at least tried to, a castle. Alfred thought it was very charming, and it reminded him of home, so naturally, he picked them as winners. They were overjoyed, jumping around excitedly, gushing it about it to their parents.

The girls earned a round of applause, and an arm slipped around your waist.

"A shame we didn't win." Bruce sighed playfully.

"I can't believe you built the batmobile. I expected a lot, but not that." You laughed, the lights reflecting off of you perfectly. Or at least that's what Bruce thought.

"But it was fun, don't you think? Thank you, again, for agreeing." You said softly. Bruce smiled at you, and gentle squeezed at your side.

"Anything for you. I can't wait to see what you come up with next year." He kissed your cheek, pulling you closer as you watched the joy and holiday cheer fill the room.

He truly couldn't wait for next year, to deck the halls with you by his side.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫

It didn't turn out as Christmas-y as I wanted it to, but I hope you enjoyed reading it nonetheless! <3

[glow-worms-are-believers]

Lost and Found (dp x dc)

Alfred sighed as he looked over the wide gymnasium, thinking to himself that he shouldn’t have listened to Leslie. Community service was all well and good as a way to connect with people, but overseeing an inter-school bakery-sale-and-science-fair combined event was proving to be more chaotic than anything else.

As another child dropped yet another just-bought desert on the floor, Alfred slunk into the shadows deciding to let the clean-up be someone else’s task for once. As he got further and further from the main hubbub, the ex(?)-butler arrived near a small exit door and snuck out quitely. As the fresh air hit his face, Alfred let out a breath. Seeing so many children around had him thinking of his charge and where he could possibly be.

The older man hadn’t brought a pack, since he’s been going to a school, but in the moment he wished he had. Sighing once again, Alfred shook off the craving as he took a few steps towards the communal school garden when the sight of a black-haired boy sitting with his back to him had him freezing. A second later his brain caught up to him, reminding him that this was not young master Bruce. The crushing disappointment he felt as he recognized the boy in front of him was much to small to be his little master Bruce surprised him by its intensity.

Alfred took a moment to compose himself before he cleared his throat. The noise had the figure flinching and turning their head towards the older man. Then, as the boy caught sight of the older man, he seemed to slump. Seeing that he was unlikely to speak up first, Alfred took it upon himself to start the conversation.

“Might I inquire what you are doing outside, young man?”

The boy’s shoulder slumped even more though he still answered. “Haven’t got any sweets to sell,” he mumbled.

“Oh?” Alfred sounded out. “Why is that?”

“My cookies ate my homework so I had to put them down,” said the boy as he finally raised his head, long-suffering

But Alfred could only breathe a faint “Indeed?” as the boy’s features were exposed. The resemblance with master Bruce was so uncanny that the butler had trouble looking away. But as he examined him more closely he could see some minute differences. The boy didn’t have the sharp jawline both mister Wayne and master Bruce had shared. His nose was smaller than master Bruce’s and his eyes were paler than the darker blue passed down through the Wayne line. The sight of a face so similar and yet not quite like master Bruce had his mind jumping to the portrait hung above the manor’s fireplace and the face of the toddler sitting on his mother’s lap as a slightly older child stood beside her with his father’s hand on his shoulder.

Everyone had bemoaned the two-fold tragedy of the Waynes. First to lose their youngest son at such a young age, only to be themselves brutally murdered only a few months later. All was left of the previously illustrious Waynes was a grief-stricken eight-year-old who had just lost his brother and parents in such a short period of time. Alfred sighed as he remembered how angry master Bruce was at his inability to find out to this day what had happened to his brother. The man half-suspected this was how the young man had developed such an obsession with solving mysteries.

Once again having to focus back on the boy in front of him, Alfred smiled at the boy. Then, the boy’s word registered and the man let out an amused huff. “You had no choice but to put an end to that, I suppose. Cookies as spirited as yours would sell poorly in any case.”

“Oh you’ve got no idea,” muttered the young man as he pushed himself to his feet only for his hand to slip on the wet wood surrounding the gardening plots and falling face-first onto the hard wooden surface.

“Oh dear!” exclaimed Alfred as he darted to assist the boy in straightening up. The boy groaned in pain as he held his nose and Alfred could see drops of red falling down.

“Here,” said the older man as he handed the boy a fabric handkerchief.

“Thanks,” the teen croaked as he accepted it.

“Put your head between your knees,” Alfred instructed. “Breathe through your mouth.”

The boy offered a thumbs-up as he complied. Alfred waited patiently by the teen as he kept the handkerchief held against his nose. After a moment, the boy held it away experimentally and when he felt no more blood flowing he turned towards Alfred.

“Thanks,” he said before he looked down at the red-stained white fabric. “I can wash it and return it if you give me a return address.”

“It’s alright,” Alfred refused. “I don’t mind washing it.”

“Thanks,” repeated the boy as he handed the older man the handkerchief back, as he got to his feet, this time more gingerly. “I best get back before my friends start looking for me.”

“Be careful on the way back,” Alfred couldn’t help saying.

The boy hummed and as he turned around for a final wave goodbye, their eyes connected and Alfred felt a jolt travel through his body. Though the pale blue of Danny’s eyes was not the distinctive shade of the Waynes, it was however identical to the color of the late Martha Wayne’s eyes. As the boy opened the exit door and disappeared in the crowd of people, Alfred looked down at the blood-stained handkerchief.

He knew there was a less than infinitesimal chance. Still. What would it hurt to make absolutely sure?

[festivalsofmargot]

Hi!! I love your imagines so much!! And I had a request if possible! Maybe f!reader and Sebastian sneak into the prefect bathroom for a bath together after a long day or something and one thing leaders to another..

My Sleep Remedy

{Sebastian Sallow x Fem!Reader}

AGED UP CHARACTERS, 18+ SCENARIOS (Characters are nearing the end of their 7th year and are 18+)

Word Count: ~ 5,100 words

Warnings: 18+ smut, (first time having sex, fingering, handjob, oral)

Author’s Note: Just want to say right away that I’m not a lore master on Harry Potter, I’ve only read the first book, seen the movies, and obsessed over Hogwarts Legacy. I think you need a password to get into the prefects’ bathroom but I’m going by HL rules where you can just walk in lmfaooo. Thank you for the request, anon!!! I got really into this one and had so much fun writing it. Hopefully you guys have as much fun reading it ❤ Now kick back and turn off your brain. I cleared your schedule for you, enjoy 🥰

Songs (if interested):

Spiracle - Flower Face

snowfall (Slowed + Reverb) -  Øneheart, reidenshi

You’d think, after everything you had to do to catch up having come in late as a 7th year, you’d be out as soon as your head hit the pillow. Yet sleep still found a way to evade you. After tossing and turning with no signs of your eyelids growing heavier, you decided to sneak out of your dorm and wander the halls of Hogwarts once again. Maybe you could stumble upon some demiguise statues for Mr. Moon.

With the disillusionment spell coating you, you walked the halls easily, taking in all the paintings and statues. It was a shame you only had one year here, there was no way you could see the entirety of the castle in such a short time. Turning a corner, you rammed into a solid, invisible object.

The feel of hands steadied you as your rubbed at your nose. The disillusionment spell wore off for both you and Sebastian Sallow.

“Sebastian.” You said in pleasant surprise, smiling up at him. “What are you doing up?”

“Had trouble sleeping. Decided to follow your lead and go on one of these -” He waved his hand dismissively in the air, “night walks you rave so much about.” He chuckled, keeping his voice low. Of everyone he could have had insomnia with, he was happy it was you.

“Same here. Decided I might as well look for more of those demiguise statues. No idea why they bother Mr. Moon so much, I think they’re pretty adorable. Care to join me? Or did you want to be alone?”

He appreciated you asking, especially in such a way that he felt he could say ‘no’ if he needed. But he didn’t need to, or want to. “Count me in.” He smiled. “I think I spotted one in the prefects’ bathroom.”

You quirked a brow at him. “What were you doing in there?”

“Bathing, what else?”

“One of the prefects invited you to join them, did they?” You teased and he rolled his eyes, playfully shoving your shoulder.

“It’s my last year, so I figured ‘why not’? Wanted to try it at least once. And if I was caught, I’m sure people would have been happy I've moved on from the restricted section. Now come on.”

“Lead the way.”

-

You and Sebastian arrived at the prefects’ bathroom, cloaked in the disillusionment spell. “If I remember right, I think I saw it just over...” His eyes scanned the bathroom.

“Ah, there it is.” You strode up to it, your disillusionment spell fading. You picked it up and twirled it in your hand as you returned to Sebastian’s side. “One more down, Merlin knows how many to go.” You sighed.

He let his disillusionment fade as well, taking the moon from your hand to look it over himself. Really, he just needed a temporary distraction, every now and then he would get this terrible urge to kiss you. You never had to do anything special for the thought to pop into his head, all he could do was suffer in silence until the ache went away. 

He handed the moon back to you and looked out to the bathroom. “You know, why don’t you give this bath a go? It could help you fall asleep, now that you got one less moon to worry about.”

He could see you thinking on it, clearly tempted.

“Come on, you came in late as a 7th year and you’ve been working yourself to the bone. I say you’ve earned it. It’s your only year at Hogwarts and we’re almost finished anyway. Go for it.”

“You’re such a bad influence.” You smirked at him, then scanned your eyes over the room. “This place is beautiful though, especially at night.” You thought aloud. “But what about you? If it helps you sleep, you should use it. I can come back for it another night when you’re feeling better.”

Sebastian was tempted too, this place had relaxed him in the way he needed most. It was pure tranquility. After everything that had happened that year, having that little bit of peace this place offered helped greatly. But he shook his head, “All yours tonight.”

You eyed him sadly as he looked down at his feet, shoving his hands in his pockets. You’d much rather he took it. You didn’t want to part ways with him quite yet either, but maybe this was his way of saying he needed to be alone at the moment. “Alright... thank you, Sebastian. Wait, how often do the prefects come to check on this place?”

“If they hear water running, they’re not coming in here.” He reassured you. “Even if they did suspect you weren’t someone who was allowed in here, they’d at least wait until you were clothed to rat you out.”

“Makes sense.” You exhaled, looking upon the immaculate bath the size of a pond. The thought of sitting in this beautiful, moonlit room enveloped in warm water was more enticing by the second.

Sebastian could see your dreamy stare and decided it was time for him to go. “I’ll leave you to it then.” He shot you a grin as he turned to make his way out.

“Seb.” You called softly, speaking before thinking.

“Hmm?” He turned to face you easily. 

“I um...” You didn’t want him to leave. Though you spent most of your days stuck together like glue, you wanted even more of him to yourself. You only had a few more weeks at Hogwarts, and then who knew where the two of you would be? 

He felt as if his heart skipped a beat when he saw the look on your face, he had never seen it on you before. It wasn’t happy, it wasn’t sad. It was hopeful... and aching. He didn’t know what to make of it as he waited for you to continue. He could see your chest rising and falling, your breathing seeming to get heavier. The sight made the wait for you to speak feel like it took ages.

You cleared your throat, mustering up the courage for your next words. “Please stay.”

His insides constricted in the most volatile way. You couldn’t possibly mean you wanted to bathe together, could you? Maybe you just thought you two could put your feet in the water? Surely no nakedness involved. Oh wonderful, he was thinking of you naked even though you were only a few feet away from him. He swallowed thickly. What do I say? What do I say?

‘Yes’ seemed like the best answer. On one hand, it could be innocent and there was no need for his mind to have taken him to such a risqué place. On the other, if you did want to bathe with him, he’d be the world’s biggest blockhead if he said ‘no’. 

He had fallen hard and fast for you his final year at Hogwarts. He wished, more than anything, you came in as a 1st year so you two could have made more memories together. But only one year with you was the hand he was dealt. So he’d take every second he could, no amount of time would have felt like it was enough anyhow.

After everything you had done for him, picking him back up after what happened with Anne and Solomon, keeping his friendship with Ominis in tact, and sticking by his side even though you’ve seen the worst sides of him, how could you possibly want someone like me? You were far, far too good for him.

Who was he fooling? There was no way he would have ever said ‘no’ to you. 

“I'll stay.” He answered as he took a step towards you, but that was all he’d let himself do. You needed to make the next move, so he could know what you wanted from him that night. He’d give you everything and more, all you needed to do was ask.

It was hard to keep calm when the flutter in your chest felt so overwhelming. Becoming jumpy, you brought your fingers up to unclasp your robes. 

His eyes went dark. Merlin’s sake, he needed to get it together. He had seen you take off your robes countless times before. And for all he knew, you’d only be taking off your shoes and tights as well.

You glanced up at him when you slipped your robes off, then went to put them at the front of the room near the large stack of towels. 

Sebastian watched your hips as you passed him. Easy now, still don’t know how far you want to go with this. He darted his gaze away and shrugged off his own robes. After tossing it aside, he went to turn on the faucets to fill up the giant tub. He desperately needed to busy himself to calm his nerves. 

He peeked over at you and watched, mesmerized, as you kicked off your shoes and pulled down your tights from under you skirt, slowly revealing the skin of your legs in the most tantalizing way. His breathing started to come out shallow, his lips parting slightly. 

You were either stopping there or you were going to keep going. This was the point where he’d know what you wanted. And if that was how he handled himself getting a look at your legs? He probably wouldn’t be coherent if you took it further.

Tucking your tights and shoes away, you looked back at him over your shoulder. He shot his gaze away and tried to look busy with the faucets. He knew he must have had a dumb, slack-jawed look on his face.

In your head, you were even more of a wreck. You had taken off everything that could be viewed as innocent. You could stop there and spend a relaxing night speaking with Sebastian, or you could try to take him how you’ve always wanted him ever since he smirked at you in your first Defense Against the Dark Arts class.

You knew he’d be a gentleman about all of this, so you’d have to make the first move in the direction you wanted to take it. The look on his face when he saw you had taken off your shoes and tights was encouraging. You glanced at him again but his focus was fully back on the faucets, not as encouraging.

You took a steadying breath, thankful the sound of the rushing water would drown it out. You mustered up every ounce of courage you had, locked the door, and turned your body so that you were facing him. This could be your only chance, it was now or never. Looking down at your shirt, you reached up and slowly began unbuttoning it. Once you got down to the button that opened your shirt enough to reveal the top of your bodice, you peeked up at him to check if he was looking.

And oh he was looking, the way he seemed to be watching you with undivided attention had the spark of a fire ignite in your core. You undid a few more buttons until you gradually stilled under the weight of his gaze, temporarily hypnotized by the way he was looking at you.

“Keep going.” He said, hypnotized himself. He could feel the blood draining from his head to go south, leaving it empty with nothing but thoughts of what more you could show him. He wanted all of you displayed before him, all to himself.

Your heartrate sped up, you hadn’t known what words you wanted to hear from him, but those were certainly an electrifying choice. You picked up where you left off and delighted in the way he kept his eyes on you. You got to the last of your buttons and slipped off your shirt, revealing your bodice and the skin of your shoulders.

He stood up straighter and faced you fully as he watched your shirt fall to the floor. Your skirt was less of a slow burn and more of a shock to his senses when it only took one undone button for it to fall as well.

He clenched his jaw and exhaled through his nose like he was being tortured. It wasn’t fair, the effect you had on him. He could see out of the corner of his eye that the tub still had a ways to go filling with water, so he hoped you would help him pass the time by continuing to do what you were doing.

You kept your eyes on him, nervous, excited, and aching to show him what was under your bodice. You began undoing the buttons of your final layer. His eyes fell down to your chest, and you could see his adam's apple bob in his throat. The heat you felt in your abdomen went lower, you felt it throb in the most delicious way. That throb only swelled when you glanced down at Sebastian’s pants, his erection pressing hard against the fabric. The thought of having caused it sent a thrill through you.

When you slipped off your bodice and revealed your breasts, he made his way towards you, not allowing this space between you anymore. Keeping your eyes on him as he approached, you swiftly pulled down your underskirts. His face turned pained seeing you fully naked before him, your most sensitive area exposed to him. 

He stood before you, eyes darting all over you, not sure where they wanted to feast upon more. You didn’t mind that you were naked and Sebastian wasn’t. Those hungry looks of his had been more than enough to send you over the edge. 

As you witnessed his eyes ardently roaming over you, you reached up and began undoing his tie, the rise and fall of his chest speeding up. You slid his tie off and went for his buttons, undoing them one by one. 

It was such an intoxicating contradiction to witness, watching you take control in such a tender way. He narrowed his eyes at you as you slipped his shirt off, fingers brushing along his skin as you did so. You met his gaze and sensed he was wordlessly begging you to release his hard length from his pants. 

Your lashes curtained your eyes as you looked down to undo his belt. He dared to touch you then, his fingers grazed your hips and he dragged them lightly up the sides of your torso. He held back, because the way he wanted to grab you, he was sure he’d leave bruises. You were so soft, almost like you were the most delicate thing he had ever touched, even though he knew full well you were far from it.

You undid his pants and looked back up at him. You were still for a moment and he wondered what was going through your head. Keeping your eyes on him, you gingerly grabbed at his length. You watched with delight as he hissed a breath through his teeth and shot his gaze down to your hand on him. You stroked your thumb across his tip and he almost collapsed.

He panicked when you released him and began walking away. He watched in stunned silence as you walked down the steps into the water and then dove in. You resurfaced and swam towards the faucets, turning them all off. His pants were hanging loose on his waist, his hard length teasing out of it. 

“Are you coming in?” You asked without looking at him, continuing to turn off the remaining faucets, your nipples peeking out of the water every time you reached up.

His body finally kicked in to gear. He nearly fell over as he hopped on one foot to yank off one shoe, then switched sides, just as unsteady while taking off the other. His hands were shaky and quick pulling off his socks, he threw them to the side, not caring if he ever saw them again. Once he shoved down his pants, he joined you in the water, not nearly as graceful as you and causing much more splashing.

You giggled as you swam to meet him, pulling his face into a kiss. He treaded the water as you held him close to you, relishing the feel of your mouth on his, your breasts pressing against him. The water was slick on your skin, he was half tempted to swim back and just watch you exist, naked and dripping wet. But he didn’t want to leave this position, not yet.

Your hands slid down and rested on his freckled shoulders, reveling at his hard muscles there. He pulled back from the kiss slightly, wanting to look at your face. He cupped your jaw with one hand and dragged his thumb along your skin, watching the water droplets run down. He couldn’t believe this was happening, he had been in love with you for so long, and he had you with him like this. And in the prefects’ bathroom to top it off? If this was a dream, he’d absolutely die if he woke up.

A smile tugged at the corner of his lips as he looked over your features, and you couldn’t help but smile back. Every look he gave you tonight had you melting.

“I want you to touch me.” You told him.

He was sure he was dreaming then, but he’d do everything in his power to not wake up. “I’m so glad.”

He grabbed your hand under the water and pulled you along as he swam towards the tub’s edge. He rested a hand on it to keep himself afloat. “Hold onto me.” He said. You complied, placing your hands back on his shoulders. His free hand remained under water, moving to your inner thigh, his fingers dragged up to your folds. He eyed you for your reaction, you nodded your head. The two of you looked down into the water at his hand, he ran his first finger through you, taking in the feel of it all. You dug your nails into his skin, it kept his member rock hard.

He had read books on sex before, but the boring ones. The ones with lifeless illustrations, education being the main purpose. He wasn’t completely ignorant of what was between your thighs, but he couldn’t truly know until he encountered it himself.

“Right there. Move your fingers on that spot.” Your whispered feedback had his insides reeling, and he threw out his plan to take his time feeling you. 

“How should I - what do I -” He was eager to please but he'd be lying if he said he knew how.

You put a hand over his and guided him towards the top of your slit. You moved his fingers in short, up and down, rubbing motions at a quick pace. You already knew how to get yourself off from alone time in the showers, and you were earnest to have him take your place. His rough, warm fingers would feel so much better.

“Like that.” You panted. “Keep touching me like that.”

He furrowed his brows and bit his lip in concentration, all his focus going to his fingers, he was going to get this right if it killed him.

You held onto him for support as he moved against you, your peak was approaching much faster with his fingers instead of yours. His eyes darted up and down, going up to your face and then back down to your need. 

You brought your hands up to his head and fisted his hair, he pressed his forehead against yours, keeping up his motions. You held him to you as your climax got closer and closer, wrapping one leg around his waist underneath the water. He was especially thankful being in the water then, it helped make the two of you more weightless. He knew he wouldn’t be able to hold this strong other wise. 

“I’m gonna - I’m -” He slammed his mouth onto yours to keep you quiet as he finished you off. Your muffled moan against his lips and your body spasming against his hand had him ravenous.

You pulled back from him to catch your breath, and you let your head fall against his shoulder. He held you close to him and rested his cheek against the top of your head. He wanted to make you feel that good all the time, wanted to be the only one who ever did.

You drifted back and put your hands on his chest. “Sit down.” You commanded, your breath still a bit uneven. You pushed him back gently through the water, towards the steps. 

“Alright.” He responded, compliant and enamored. He kept his eyes on you as he swam backwards and sat, not wanting to miss a second of you.

He took a steadying breath as you settled your knees on either side of his legs, straddling him. He exhaled sharply when you gripped his length under the water, “Now tell me how to touch you.”

His brain couldn’t process your question. He was eye level with your chest and stared ahead with half-lidded eyes, the water droplets running down you were madness inducing. He couldn’t stop himself from cupping some water into his hand and smearing it across your chest to make you glisten even more in wetness.

“Seb.” You whimpered, gripping him tighter.

His glazed eyes looked up to yours. He was delirious, there was so much of you to look at and you were touching him in a place no one else had. Getting his hand to act since his mouth couldn’t, he followed your lead and guided you on what to do. 

You wrapped your fingers around him and stroked up and down in the way he silently instructed. He leaned his elbows back on the steps and watched you, bewitched, as you fixated on his pleasure. 

You propped one hand against his chest as your other worked up and down his shaft. “A bit faster.” He groaned. “That’s...” His eyes rolled into the back of his head. “Ah that’s it.” The sound of water sloshing along with your breathing echoed throughout the prefects’ bathroom, and he was nearing his peak faster than he wanted. Quickly, he leaned forward and removed your hand from him. 

“What’s wrong?” You asked in a slight panic, he grabbed your face and pulled you into a kiss to put you at ease.

“Nothing.” He reassured once he pulled back. He looked up at you with longing, tortured eyes and stroked your cheek. “Can I be inside you?”

Your insides set ablaze and you nodded your head. He swallowed thickly as you adjusted on top of him, positioning yourself over his length. His hands moved to your hips and he gripped tightly, looking down into the water at you two about to join.

He did everything he could to inwardly steady himself. “Right...” He breathed. “Now... When I’m about to finish, you need to uh...” Focus! He shot a hand through his wet hair quickly then placed it back on your hip. “You need to withdraw from me, alright?” 

You nodded your head, just as frantic at the anticipation as he was. “I will.”

Ignoring your jittery nerves, you took him in your hand to guide his tip to your entrance. Slowly, you sunk yourself onto him, taking your time as you felt him stretch you out to fit deeper. You felt his body stiffen under you. With a throaty groan, he wrapped his arms around you and rested his forehead against your chest. You brought your hands up to the back of his head and held him close as you both breathed through it.

He wanted to be stuck in this position forever. The feel of your heat slowly enveloping him was unreal. You whimpered as you took more of him into you. He kissed the spot between your breasts, “Go slow. Go slow.” He whispered against your skin. The words were meant for him just as much as they were you.

His eyes squeezed shut briefly when you had him fully in you.

“I - I think I’m alright now.” You said, and could feel him nod against your chest.

You swallowed the dryness in your throat, and leaned back a bit to look down into the water. Catching your curious gaze at what it looked like being joined together was one of the most arousing things he had ever witnessed. 

You thought back to how he wanted your hand to move on him, so you gripped his shoulders and moved your heat up and down his length.

His hands moved down from your hips to your bottom, groping roughly. He leaned back enough so he could watch you bounce on him, quicker and quicker as you became more accustomed to the feel of him inside you.

He was becoming unhinged at it all. The feel of your heat gliding along him, the movement of your dripping wet breasts, your nails digging into his shoulders, and the sound of your panting breaths mixed with his. His climax was coming fast. 

“Ah I’m about to - Please don’t stop.” He could hardly speak, and his vision was getting blurry. He leaned forward to bite at your skin, he didn’t care where, anywhere. You arched your back at the feel of his teeth, and you knew he was nearing the edge. You withdrew yourself from him just enough to take him in your hand and he kept his hands on your ass. You stroked him fast to finish him off, but an urge to take him in your mouth took over. You broke away from his grasp and submerged your face under the water, wrapping your mouth around him. 

“W - Wait,” He breathed heavily, “What are you - o - oh...” His words melted into grunts as his head fell back and he spilled into your mouth.

When you felt he was done, you swallowed him and went back up for air. Wiping the water from your face, you saw his eyes were wide at you and he was trying to catch his breath. It was the most exhilarating sight.

He didn’t know what possessed you to put your mouth on him, but he needed to figure it out so he could ensure it possessed you next time too.

A dreamy sigh left your lips and you laid back into the water, floating contently as you looked up at the ceiling. He leaned back on his elbows and watched you, his legs too wobbly to move anywhere. It was quite the way to bring seven years at Hogwarts to a close.

“You know I’m in love with you, right?” Despite the lighthearted wording, there was gravity in his delivery.

You went up straight in the water to look at him. Hiding your dopey smile, you submerged yourself until it was just your eyes peeking out at him.

Getting bashful himself, he leaned forward on his knees and rubbed at his face. “Yeah, you know.” He laughed breathily. He was all too proud seeing how flushed your cheeks were and knowing he was the cause.

You swam back to him until you were standing on the steps below him. Placing your hands on his knees, you leaned forward and kissed him. You pulled back, getting a good look at all of his freckles. “I thought it was obvious I'm in love with you too.”

He pulled you back onto his lap. Gripping your thighs, he claimed your mouth with a deeper kiss. You were both tired now. He just needed this last taste of you, this last feel of your wet skin on his before you separated.

He tore himself from you and looked into your sleepy eyes with his. “Bed?” 

“Afraid so.” You sighed, getting up off his lap.

You grabbed his hand, pulling him with you out of the tub. Towels were aplenty in the prefect bathroom, and he grabbed one for you and him. As the two of you dried off, the exhaustion really kicked in. You gave each other sleepy smiles as you caught the other’s eye, trying to sneak glances as you put your uniforms back on.

He finished dressing before you did and went to help you with your last few buttons. “Stay with me in Feldcroft this summer. It’d mean the world to me if you did.” 

You met his half-lidded eyes with yours, a lazy smile on your lips. “Of course, I will.” 

He gave you one more lax kiss, then went to unlock the door. You picked up the demiguise moon and he opened the door for you.

“What in Merlin’s name?!” A younger prefect’s unwelcome voice knocked you two out of your magical haze.

Sebastian rolled his eyes and pushed you defensively behind him, keeping you hidden.

“Were you two in the prefects' bathroom? At the same time?! Don’t tell me you… in our bathroom!”

“I think you’re mistaken, we were just retrieving a demiguise statue for Mr. Moon, that’s all.” Sebastian grabbed the moon from your hand and walked up to the prefect, their height difference becoming very apparent when he came toe to toe and looked down his nose at him. 

“B - But your hair’s wet! Both of you -” 

“I’ll say it once more since it doesn’t seem like you heard me. You’re mistaken.” Sebastian repeated. “And if I hear any rumors about what you think happened, I’ll know who started them, won’t I? I only have a few weeks left here at Hogwarts, let’s see to it they go by smoothly, yeah?”

“F - Fine. Just get back to Mr. Moon straightaway and go to your dorms.”

He gave the prefect a couple solid pats on the cheek. “Attaboy.”

Grumbling, the prefect turned on his heel and left.

Sebastian returned to your side, wrapping an arm around your waist and practically carrying you out of the faculty tower. “Were you trying to protect my honor back there?” You teased and could see he was biting back a cocky grin.

“I was. I could go back and scare him some more since you seem so pleased about it.”

He cackled when you smacked his arm. Sleepless nights weren’t so bad anymore.

[kanagenwrites]

Hey folks. My name is Kanagen (It's pronounced Ka-na-ngen. Kana is fine.), and I'm a writer. I mostly write sci-fi with a more or less sapphic bent, and I'm not shy about putting lewd content in what I write because fuck petty moralism.

I'm active in the Human Domestication Guide writing community, where apart from being an author (see below), I'm also a Loret, which means I help maintain and update the lore of the setting, help new creators with questions about it or how to fit a story into it, and so on. All of my publicly available fiction at the moment is HDG content, but I plan on working more on my own original settings and concepts in the future.

I have a patreon, where I post my current long-form project's drafts chapter by chapter, once weekly. I also occasionally talk about my writing process. I'm hoping to expand content there in the future as well.

I don't use social media very much because I remember what the internet used to be like before walled gardens and techbros ruined it. (You kids really don't know what you're missing.) Nevertheless, the life of a freelance writer rather demands I put myself out there somehow, so here I am. Ask me questions, behold the weird stuff I reblog, and try not to get too parasocial with me. I'm just a weird lady who puts words in funny shapes.

Bibliography

Long-Form Fiction

No Gods, No Masters - A revolutionary leftist copes with the subtle differences between her own idea of the perfect world and the just-a-little-off version of it the Affini offer. First novel-length work in the Tillandsia Trilogy; highly suggested you read this before The Floret in the Mirror and especially Freedom's Ember.

The Floret in the Mirror - A mystery/thriller about identity, digitization, and impossible simulated lewdness. Content warning for amnesia resulting from traumatic brain injury as part of the setup. Sequel to No Gods, No Masters.

Freedom's Ember (ongoing) - Sixty years after the Affini conquered her world, a woman clings to her independence; sixty years after being frozen for cryogenic flight from the Affini, a woman struggles to discover who she really is when freed from her father's influence. What is freedom, and what does it mean in the context of the Compact? Sequel to No Gods, No Masters and The Floret in the Mirror, conclusion of the Tillandsia Trilogy.

Sui Generis - A martian attorney living on Earth finds adjusting to life with the Affini easier than most; she was already keeping her wife as a pet before they arrived. The real question is, where's that strange jealousy coming from?

Short Fiction

Mainspring - A Terran secret agent is captured by the Affini, trapped by artist for whom his body is a canvas, and she means to make of him her magnum opus. Wind-up doll content, and probably my most commonly cited story for "this rewired my brain"-style reactions.

Reading the Leaves - A tea-obsessed barista, an affini new to humanity, and a sweet (if awkward) romance culminating in a very raunchy ending. Entry for the HDG February Fluff Fic Jam 2024.

The Fifth Fundamental Force - This story is a silly joke. It should not be taken seriously, though many inevitably do.

Aftertaste (stalled) - A former quadrillionaire and epicure who just barely avoided domestication is tracked down by an affini culinary anthropologist who wants to use his brain to reconstruct a lost flavor using his long-buried memory - he was the last human to ever taste bluefin tuna. This fic is only sporadically updated because the stars must precisely align for my brain to be in a state to write boyliker fic. Sorry, I'm just really gay, y'all.

[weebsinstash]

They often say food can be a language of love, and one of the things that started driving Suguru into a deeper depression was eating curses that tasted horribly disgusting and then also not being able to eat normal food, so I was thinking about a story concept where Reader through whatever means can actually give Geto his sense of taste back and actually ease the discomfort he experiences when eating curses, and he forms a deep gratitude/obsession/love because of it

Obviously i publish yandere stuff but it doesn't mean up in Brain Land that I don't think of other ideas, action, adventure, what not, and recently I've been thinking of -also this was kind of for yandere purposes too actually lmao- Reader having a technique along the lines of "Cursed Memory Manipulation"

You can manipulate curses just like Geto, only you do it by affecting their memories into thinking you're an ally or friend or master or whatever gets them to obey. There are limits, but if it's some mindless creature, you're basically a Pokemon trainer. But I was thinking, can you imagine being his classmate who he has way too much depression to fully pay attention to, he's eating less, he's losing weight, losing sleep, and one day you're eating lunch near him and see he's struggling to keep food down, and he leaks vague details about how he keeps thinking about the taste of curses and how food doesn't taste the same.

Here you are, genuinely wanting to help him, just casually like, "well, what if I take a bite of this food, and then when you take a bite, I put my memory of what it tasted like in your head while we eat together" and it's some spur of the moment idea that he's too tired to argue against you about, so he does it to humor you and get it over with and. It works? It actually works??? He can taste and the world is beautiful again?

Oh sure, it starts off sharing lunches with him, but he's basically unable to normally eat without you, so, he all but glues himself to you at all times so you can eat all your meals together. At his worst, a yandere Geto would just immediately outright insist on if not demand marriage, because how ELSE are you two going to share every meal together? He may even force you to cook for him to make the meals you two eat all the more special. You're just his little Patron Saint of Snacks who can actually give him an appetite again

And I guess as a bonus, the idea I was originally tacking the concept of Cursed Memory Manipulation onto was, vague but, it was the idea of, what if Reader is losing a fight and is at genuine risk of being killed and you use your technique to fill your attacker with memories of you, and maybe you don't exactly have time to think and it turns out to be something really personal, something really intimate, whatever can get this person or creature or curse or whatever to stop attacking you. Sukuna suddenly remembering you as an old flame who he suddenly has too many fond memories of fucking to simply kill you. Mahito stops himself from slicing you open when he's suddenly recalling playing all kinds of games with you, running around as kids, memories of a childhood that didn't exist yet appeals to his young heart.

It's also totally different but I've also thought about 1. What if Sukuna gets in Itadori and finds out the young man isnt all there when it comes to you with Sukuna absorbing some of Yuuji's feelings for you, and then when he jumps to, his current host, HE ALSO had feelings for you, so now Sukuna is like secondhand driven mad with yandere fever and 2. What if after Kenjaku bodysnatches Geto, he runs into you again one day and all of Suguru's repressed and Strong STRONG feelings for you start surging forth and Kenjaku just HAS to keep you around as his new pet at the very least because he just can't shake all these new obsessive thoughts and the literal goosebumps he gets when he looks at you

[stereksimp]

Imagine newly turned werefox Stiles training with Derek. Masters all his senses amazingly fast and transformation. Maybe going as far as figuring out full shift as well. (I love the idea of Stiles just fully accepting his fox that he can full shift.)

However, stealth training does not go well. He doesn't understand how he is still making so much noise or how he still flails and falls with his 'super reflexes'.

Derek's patience is running thin. He can't figure out how to get Stiles to get it right.

Then Scott decides to help a little after Stiles complains to him a few too many times. He goes to Derek to tell him that Stiles needs a reason and incentive to figure stealth out. The senses came easy because they were overwhelming him, and he needed it to stop, but what does he really need stealth for. He didn't need it before as a human fighting the big bad, so why does he need it now.

Now, there are a few ways Derek could go about this, but my personal favorite is Derek sneaks into Stiles' room and lands the perfect stealth kiss. It is their first kiss, and Stiles is left stunned for a few minutes. (His scent gives him away.) When he comes back, Derek is already gone, and there is a sticky note on his forehead that says, "If you want another kiss, I can't see you coming."

Challenge accepted. Something clicks in his brain after obsessing the rest of the night on all Derek's lessons. He needs to get this because he will kiss Derek.

(Stiles is a little shit and loves to fuck with people.)

Derek expects the attempts to start at the latest the next day, and they do sort of. The first time he realizes is when at the end of their pact meeting, he puts his hands in his jacket pockets and finds a chocolate kiss and doesn't know when he put it in his pocket during the meeting. The next morning, he finds a single red rose on his nightstand and a fresh fruit salad in his fridge.

As the week goes on he gets more little presents without ever catching Stiles, and he begins to think he may have made a monster but all the little presents are so cute (he'll never admit it though). The next pack meeting is when he breaks.

Stiles walks in right on time and just tosses him a chocolate kiss. Derek growls and prowls towards him while Stiles just stands there with a smirk on his face, and everyone else is just staring. He grabs him by the face and slams their lips together in a biting kiss.

[hopefulatrocity]

Snow And Embers

Notes: Uh so I've fallen into my Hunger Games hyperfixation again. This is just something that came to my mind while watching the movie. I needed a refresher from my TWD fic(I have not abandoned that I swear). This leans more heavily to the movie than the books, except for Lucy's eye color, I stuck to the book with that. So spoilers. NOT PROOFREAD. Also, I'm highly of the notion that Coryo did love Lucy but not all love is healthy. His bordered on obsession. And with a tendency for paranoia, it didn't end well.

Pairing: Lucy Gray Baird x Coriolanus Snow (SnowBaird)

Part 2

CW/TW: Spoilers for BOSAS, darkish thoughts, ideas of claiming/possession, Smut!(18+ breeding kink, creampie, fingering, slight somnophilia, very slight inexperienced Coryo).

The first time Coriolanus and Lucy Gray  became one, it was slow and euphoric. There had been hesitation for him. As ashamed as he was to admit it, he had never been with anyone, romantically or sexually. He'd spent his life worrying about status, money, and academics. With the fragile state of his academic career due to Dean Highbottom's hatred for him, and the ever looming threat of eviction and starvation, even after the Dark Days, he hadn't had the time nor emotional ability to even attempt either. The beautiful rainbow that was Lucy Gray Baird, was the catalyst that changed everything. 

He'd been enchanted by her singing during the Reaping, and initially he thought his interest was simply hope that maybe she could be the key to his family's troubles. That she could be the one to turn his fortune around. Those thoughts turned the moment he watched Lucy Gray pluck a petal from his proffered white rose, and place it on her delicate pink tongue, the two colors contrasting and trapping his gaze. When her lips sealed around the soft sepal, his blue eyes traced the plump flesh, wondering what the skin there tasted like. Would they taste like roses? Or would it be something wholly Lucy Gray? 

He'd had to snap himself out of his trance, scolding himself for falling victim to his brain's carnal desires. He was there to be a mentor. He was there to fix his family's status and finally land on top, just like snow was supposed to. For a while this train of thought had worked. Every time his mind wandered to tanned skin and silky hair colored like the rich dark chocolate from his starvation-induced childhood dreams, he would think back to his interaction with Dean Highbottom, the threats, and the reasoning for why he was interacting with the tribute in the first place. 

It didn't help matters when Lucy Gray had threaded her fingers into his own when they went to view the arena with the other tributes and mentors. Her palm was sweaty, so was his, but the way their fingers fit together perfectly had his heart beating faster than ever before. He'd looked into her eyes and the fear there had him tightening his grip, a measure of reassurance. His inner Capitolite had reared it's head then, warning him about getting too close to her, a district girl. A tribute at that. One likely to die within the next few days. He'd dropped her hand, almost like the soft creases of her palm were instead the fangs of the snakes she so easily mastered. 

Within minutes everything had gone to ruin, the bomb had gone off, flaming rebar fell on top of him, and suddenly he knew he was going to die. He'd called for her, the dust and rubble making his throat and eyes burn. In the haze, he had seen her look towards the exit, she had a chance to escape. Surely this meant she would leave him to be engulfed by the flames on his back. But she hadn't. She had pushed away another tribute who told her to run and had gone to help him. A district girl saving the life of a Capitol boy. It was the kind of propaganda that would have made his grandma'am's heart stop. 

Lucy Gray had saved his life. He had to save hers. So he snuck his mother's poison filled compact to her in dead of night. Through the bars he had poured his heart out, not in words of love or passion but of strategy and advice for winning the games. It was all he could do. When she had leaned forward, her lips seeking his through the bars, he had pulled back in shock. As much as he wanted to kiss her, he couldn't. If he did and she died the next day, he wasn't sure he would survive it. Internally, he promised himself that if Lucy Gray won, he would do everything he could to finally find out what she tasted like. 

And she had won, his tampering with the snakes and the compact being her lifelines. Despite the fallout from his treason, Coriolanus kept his promise to himself. He'd bribed his way to District 12, unsure if he would even be able to find his rainbow songbird. For all he knew, Gaul could have killed her. 

But then he saw her in that bar. Singing so beautifully. When her eyes met his, his heart lept and so did his cock. 

The first time they kissed, it was like the world turned on its axis and nothing else mattered but Lucy Gray. She did taste like roses, fresh and floral. And the softness of her lips balanced the slight roughness of his own. He had to leave her, return to base, but he knew that kiss was just the start of something more. Something powerful. 

Over the next few weeks, anytime he was able to sneak away from his peacekeeper duties, he was with her. Soft touches, handholding, and hugs turned to bruising grips, roving hands, and passionate kisses. Despite his inexperience, Coriolanus felt like a connoisseur of intimacy when he was with Lucy Gray. She had a bit more experience than him, the idea of another man touching his songbird made his stomach turn but he knew it wasn't something that could be changed. She guided him whenever his feelings of inadequacy crept up. She would push his hesitant hands under her skirt, letting his recently calloused fingers graze over the smooth skin of her thighs. Or press her tongue past his lips and tangle it with his own. Each step a domino collapsing and pushing him to move further with her. 

They didn't have sex until the second time they visited the cabin by the lake, that time without the Covey. By some miracle, his unit had been given a weekend of rest and he took advantage of it. As soon as they had stepped into the cabin, their lips had collided and clothes fell to the floor in a trail, leading directly to the one bed in the corner. 

Night had fallen, and the only light was a small oil lantern on the bedside table that he had briefly gotten up to light. The flickering flames danced along the contours of Lucy Gray's naked body and he stared at her sleeping form for hours. He was laying on his side, the thin blanket covering his waist, with one hand propping up his head. The short spikes of his hair tickled his palm and he thought about how Lucy Gray had tried so hard to grasp it. He wished it was longer, he could easily imagine how good it would feel to have her tugging at his long curls. 

Coriolanus’ blue eyes traveled over Lucy Gray's face. Her dark locks where sprawled over the one threadbare pillow, coiled like snakes from the arena. Occasionally her eyelashes would flutter against her cheek and she would sigh. His heart would stop for a moment, both with happiness and fear. Happiness that he would be able to see her warm gray eyes gazing up at him lovingly, but also fear to be losing that moment of retrospection. His eyes moved from her face, down her neck, and to the top of her breasts. The perfect handfuls were covered by the blanket they both shared, as was the rest of her body. She had one hand laying across her stomach, while the other was tucked under her head. 

With a mind of their own, his fingers moved out to lightly stroke the soft skin of her hand. The same ones that had stroked his cock expertly, and had teased their way across his thighs. Needing to see the rest of her, Coriolanus slowly pulled down the blanket until it was laying over her knees. Heat began to pool in his stomach as he saw goosebumps bead on her skin. Her dark nipples peaked in the chilled air and he had to stop himself from running his fingers over the pointed tips. Blue eyes caressed her stomach and moved  over the slight curve of her abdomen that led to the thick patch of curls between her legs. She had one leg bent and the other splayed out, giving him a glimpse of the heat that lay hidden by the soft hair that guarded it. Her dusky folds still glistened, even though it had been hours since he'd been inside her. But his full focus was drawn to the pearl of white that sat at her entrance. A small amount of his cum was still there and it made the animalistic part of him purr. He had cleaned between her legs with his shirt shortly after their coupling, but she was still dripping with him.  A dark part of his mind wondered if it had taken. If he had claimed her fully. 

At the time, they hadn't spoken of contraception. Not that there was much of that available anyways. The Capitol had just barely begun manufacturing any type of birth control again after the war. It was expensive and no one in the districts could afford condoms or anything like that. Even their base commander had told them to be careful during leaves. The last thing they needed was news of Peacekeepers knocking up the district women. It would only bring more rebels to their doors. 

He knew the Covey was adept with herbal remedies but he hoped that they didn't have one for this type of thing. It was shocking to him, as he hadn't spent much time thinking about the possibility of having children. His priorities had revolved mostly around the intertwining of his family's status and his education. But now here he lay, his girl by his side, wondering what it would be like to make her his own. To have his seed plant itself deep inside her. She'd be marked by him, her pregnant belly a sign that she belonged only to him. That coal rat Billy Taupe would finally understand that Lucy Gray Baird was his. No one else would dare look at her. And if they did he had no problems with killing them. 

Coriolanus painted along her skin with the tips of his fingers, gently rasping them over her puckered nipples. He stared at her breasts and wondered how big they would they get. He imagined them swollen with milk, the tips dripping and the flesh overflowing his hands. 

Lucy Gray's stomach was smooth and her hips weren't very wide, but he knew they would adjust to hold his child. The supple skin would become taut and her hips would expand to accommodate their child. Would she get stretch marks? He hoped she did. That way she'd be marked even after giving birth. A beautiful scar to remind her and anyone else who had fully claimed her body. 

Drawn again to the small bead of cum at her entrance, Coriolanus ran his fingers through her lower curls and pressed his seed back inside her warm channel with his pointer finger. A low moan escaped Lucy Gray's lips and she clenched around the thin digit. As if her body was trying to pull his seed back inside her. His chest tightened and he looked up to see if she had woken up. But her eyes were still closed. Good. He wanted a few more minutes to indulge in this fantasy. No.. not fantasy. Plan. The animal inside him refused to forget about this. It had made up its mind. Lucy Gray was his. And her body was destined to carry his child. 

Gently he removed his finger from inside her, the tip brushing against her clit and causing another moan to leave her parted pink lips. If her singing voice was perfection, her moans were solace for him.

Coriolanus lifted his small corner of the blanket and moved his body over hers, his stiff cock brushing her thighs and settling over her public hair. The slight pricking of the coarse hairs across the tip of him was shocking. He had to stop himself from thrusting against her, seeking more friction. His body was still inexperienced, still desperate for any touch. 

His nose brushed hers and his fists caged either side of her face. 

“Lucy Gray….”

The rasp of  his voice saying her name vibrated across her lips. She woke slowly, the look of sleep and pleasure keeping her lids drooping. As soon as she realized what had woken her up, a small smile crossed her face. 

“Coryo.”, she brushed her lips against his. His name sounded like a possession. He didn't want anyone else to say his name. Just like her body belonged to him, his name was hers alone. The twitching of his cock against her slit had her pressing her hips up to tease him. He pushed forward a bit, notching himself at her entrance, her still dripping cunt practically begging him to thrust into her. Lifting one of his hands, he cupped her cheek, and stroked his tumb over the apple tenderly. Her gray eyes latched onto his own, both searching for something unknown in his gaze. 

“Mine,” he whispered it, almost lovingly, but with a note of passion and mastery. A declaration of his possession, daring her to contradict him. 

Lucy Gray nodded her head minutely, and  placed a ghost of a kiss on his chin. Those lips that had bewitched him from the moment he saw them wrapping around that rose petal were soft as silk. Since then he had found that she truly did taste of roses and something smokey, like embers. 

Drunk on his floral scent and the need to be filled, she whispered, “Yours, Coryo.”

Darkness clouded Coriolanus’ light blue eyes and she gasped as he thrust to the hilt inside her. The tip of his cock brushed the entrance to her womb and her channel began to pulse around him. Begging him to fill her. Lucy Gray's body instinctively knew what it needed from him. 

She wasn't fully his. Not yet. But she would be by the end of the night. 

[helsensm]

I cannot hold it in anymore I am absolutely OBSESSED with your art and the way you draw Lao.

I also would like to inquire….. just perhaps… what are your top head-canons for him, and/or your opinions on popular ships for him/which ones you like?

No pressure!! I hope you are having a wonderful day 🧡

me, trying to act normal every time an awesome artist I look up to says something nice about my art

Thank you so much! first of all, please take this Lao with you, he's yours now~

now let me preheat my bad english.....

Most of my Lao headcanons (if they are not related to a particular art I made) were yoinked from another ppl, because DAMN FELLAS your brains are sexy. 😏 So you might have heard some of them already, but here's my top general hcs for him.

NOTE: we are talking about the current timeline mk1 Kung Lao

- Lao is very expressive with his hands and he's THE TOUCH person. Just look at how many times he took Raiden by the shoulder in the first chapter alone?? He'll be pushing, and patting, and shoving, and punching you all over while telling about his breakfast or something.

- Lao is struggling with inferiority complex. Since childhood he was under a tremendous amount of pressure, he has to do things right, to be better, or else he would be mocked or punished. Now he believes that he should be the best, or he would not be taken seriously. He's constantly seeking validation in his peers, causing him to act cocky and over-confident.

- Anger issues, usually when someone questions his skill.

- People call him lazy because he tries to act like everything comes naturally to him. In reality he trains hard and takes things seriously. Like, he's fighting with a RAZOR RIMMED HAT fgs, it's not something you can master in a day! Also he always got energy running through his veins, lucky bastard... *cries in iron deficiency*

- He makes his hats by himself. With his hands. He designs and creates. ALL of them. I will die on that hill.

- He's a slow to trust, but ride or die as a friend.

- He's a trouble maker FOR SURE, but not a bully. He's respectful and polite to most of the people (if they don't provoke him), also drinks his respect-women juice.

- Master of sass and sarcasm. And yes, I think he swears, but in the right circumstances or the right company.

- He's got rizz NOW, but in his teens he had zero game because he could not keep his mouth shut and would scare off the person with the most ridiculous piece of idiocy.

- I read it in one fic and really loved the idea that Liu Kang "told the blossoms" about Kung Lao, and they really liked him 🌸 so now they are following him around and bringing him news and gossips, that's why there's always those goddamn petals aroung him aasghGHHHj 🌸🌸

- He's rolling his eyes at Johnny, but they quickly become besties.

- He actually has a cold relationship with Liu Kang. Don't get me wrong, he trusts him, respects the hell out of him and will run into a wall for a man. But I think Liu will distance himself because of all the memories of HIS Lao and how badly they sting. oTL

- That smile and a bow Lao did after loosing to Raiden? He meant that. Loosing hurted BAD, but the pain was pushed aside by the sence of pride and happiness for his best friend.

oh shit, this is getting out of hand, I'm starting to think about the other timelines and dynamics, we'll be here all week hhhhgh

About the popular ships... Well, I'm a big fan of railao (yeah NO SHIT who would have thought), but I am a multishipper, so I'm just happy to see my fav characters feeling good in someone's hands. 😊

I really like the liulao and laoliutana for several different reasons. 👀 The johnshilao (or is it laojohnshi..? erm) was the one that didn't impress me at first (love the Lao just third-wheeling with a tired expression <:'D), but recently I'm starting to warm up to all the different dynamics these three can have. And that is, in no small part, thanks to you and your kenlao agenda 👀💖 damn you created such a nice cozy universe for them I'm 🥺💕💗💖

Bi-Han/Lao is a bit random, but I love how catto did them, they are such a cute pair of assholes! >:3

ummm, yeah, so I'm going to stop there ahahhH. Thank you again for asking and for all the nice little feels your art provides, I admire you tremendously~

[skywlker-sluvtt]

omgomg so my brain is so dead rn but anyway ok ok it might be weird??

but i love the idea of being with anakin and you’re so new to sex and know nothing but yk the basic idea but he teaches you everything and basically ruins your innocence but only because he loves you so much that he wants you to be his in every way

i could literally share all my horni thoughts with you it’s so fun

IT'S SO HOT

i have to admit i am also guilty of this certain thought and it would be delicious with anakin. especially if it was um...master ani x padawan. IN A COMPLETELY LEGAL WAY OBVIOUSLY!!!!

he'd be so into slowly corrupting you in small ways because he gets some slightly perverted kick out of it. anakin loves how nervous you are when he sees you naked. and when you slowly spread your legs for him the first time and you blush profusely and he LOVES IT.

i like to think he'd take it super slow to get you more comfortable because he notices your innocence slipping away. he starts slowly by just going down on you n watching you squirm from how good he feels. then he'd wait for you to absolutely beg him for more until he takes your virginity.

and if you were also a pretty inexperienced kisser he'd teach you how to kiss with tongue and makes you suck on his tongue n shit for fun. you feel so dirty and anakin loves making you feel like that. corrupting your sweet mind with his gross mouth. brooo and he'd kiss you on the cheek or forehead with tongue all sloppy and stuff to the point you'd wipe it off all embarrassed he did that in public and he'd have some weird sense of pride making you get flushed in front of others.

anakin would also be drooling if you wore some pretty lingerie during it because he'd have some weird fascination with you looking like a pretty angel while he steals your purity making you forever his. making sure you have that deep connection with him, a bond no one will ever break. he doesn't like to imagine you with another partner so he wants to be your first and last.

and and and!!! the first time you suck his dick he's going FERALLL. like he's grunting and trying to hold back watching your pretty eyes look up and him desperate for praise and approval. IT'S SO GODDAMN SEXY. then he'd wipe your mouth with his thumb and cal you some adorable nickname like 'bunny' or 'angel' etc to affirm how pure you really are to him. "your mouth feels incredible on my cock bunny” “i think you deserve a treat my little angel" while he wipes and cleans your face from his load.

then eventually he'd introduce you to some kinky shit that you LOVE. imagine him wanting to tie you up or something and your SO nervous at first and he's obsessed with how big your eyes are and your pupils are huge watching every move it makes with curiosity. he just wants to fucking ruin you and keep you to himself 😈

THATS ENOUGH NOW! IM SORRY

[vladdyissues]

so making myself actually outline the clone gestation au cause i just sidelined another draft but I'm still wanting immediate gratification for cheese melt ideas so i sat down and self-soothee with some ideas for an AU where Dani and Dan are born due to Pompep. if you ain't feeling it right now, totally fine with this getting buried until you do, just want to share the cheesy wealth (and this fully formed in my head before the college trio + Dan and Dani offspring ideas did)

hope you like soft because i am c o p i n g rn

-so for these two resulting specifically from Pompep, Danny is a fresh adult and high school graduate in the late 2000s, where he gets to live out a certain fantasy of mine--getting to go "fuck it, can't charge me rent on a lair" and planning to go ghost primarily with his human side being his alter ego

-Vlad starts insisting if he's going to do that, he could just move into his mansion. like, increasingly more insistent. what is going on here

-turns out, Vlad is pregnant, and is fully and shamelessly exploiting Danny's need to protect. blatantly, too. Danny knows full fucking well he's being played but the Obsession will not shut up for love nor money

-mood swings make things go full poltergeist the more Vlad is aggravated or backed into a corner. walls bleeding, windows rattling, one particularly aggravated mood swing has Jack nearly get the Death Bed: The Bed That Eats treatment from an armchair (he wouldn't have died but he would have soaked in ectoplasm until his eyebrows burned off)

-this shit, Danny can deal with. this is the kinda weird he's used to. then Vlad starts showing and he starts getting... a little softer. and Danny, snarky frenemies-with-benefits more than dearly beloved partner, has no idea what to do to pivot with that

-Vlad is in denial. he does not have pretty pink magic love powers making him feel adorable wholesome things towards the baby or deep affection for Danny, who fathered it. one of those being true is a quirk. all three of those things being true clashes so hard with his supervillain-coded aesthetic makes him refuse to even think about it. so he bottles it up

-the second he gets to hold Dani after she's born he starts crying. full on ugly cry. one of the things he wasn't processing was that this was real in a way that specifically meant he was going to be holding his baby. a real, actual baby he can pour all his obsessive levels of love into and who he's going to be able to love for his entire existence

-no, fuck it, he does have pretty pink magic love powers, and if you get near his baby you get to learn what a curbstomp is

-teeny tiny baby Danielle Masters

-has first shaky flight as well as first steps, because I am a hopeless weeb and the scene in Urusei Yatsura where a baby alien is encouraged to fly into a cousin's arms like one would encourage a baby walking is just forever seared into my brain

-Danny and Vlad become used to casually grabbing her out of the air or flying to grab her. no big deal. just a floating baby. don't want her phasing into the crawlspace or walls and getting confused and lost. it always makes her giggle

-right around when the excuses for Danny's supposed human life are wearing thin, Dan breaks loose, AU AGIT happens--but Vlad's not making clones this time around so there's no ready-made body to move Dan into

-and since they can't get one ready to go... well, homemade will have to do

-(note: rather than de-aging, it's more reincarnation--it's him and has his memories and ghost self and all that good stuff, he's just not grown and stuck in the body of a baby or overwriting a totally new person. the older he gets, the more original Dan he's able to process as him and not the edgy OC lurking in the back of his mind that feels fully-formed)

-so, Vlad and Danny are expecting kid #2 with gremlin toddler Dani running around

-this time around Vlad's mood swings affect the power grid. one very bad one ends up making a power line go carnivorous and start snatching birds out of the air

-they're prepared for softness this time, and this time Vlad just lets himself feel such things. though it does manifest in jello cravings from hell... and in actually admitting he is in LOVE with Daniel, not just attracted and attached

-somewhere in there Danny's parents realize they've been lied to. for years. mainly coming to a head because supposedly, he should be nearing the end of a four-year degree. they need an explanation

-the half-ghost reveal takes a few weeks to comb through. still, it goes... relatively well.

-so. time for relationship reveal. right?

-turns out running off to shack up in their college buddy's mansion raising kids instead of pursuing higher education hits several more of their buttons than just being the town hero who happens to be a ghost does

-and making a SINGLE aggressive move towards Vlad? Danny's shifted from protection to unity and hey, he will be keeping his family together. no matter what. go on. try something :)))

-they don't come around to it before Dan is reborn but that's fine, making sure baby Dan is loved is more important anyway

-(Dani totally brings them around over time. she keeps sneaking into their lab to watch them work and hand Jack or Maddie tools before dipping back into the portal giggling when they notice her)

BONUSES

-Dani is an adorable big sister and will drag baby Dan everywhere with her given half a chance

-when they get older, the short jokes will fly. mainly from Dani herself. Danny and Dani's favorite in-joke is Dani trying to reach something with powers and sarcastically thanking Danny for the height genes

-Dan ends up being an adorable kid who really likes just. soaking up the loving atmosphere. threaten his good time at your peril, first time he transforms he's a force of nature

-of course Vlad and Danny incorporate their family into their snark

"Being the father of my children won't save you from my vengeance, Daniel."

"Both your kids share DNA with my dad, it's not going to kill you to share a dinner table with him."

"No, but if you ever remind him he is my father-in-law, it will kill you."

"Eh, he already got me killed once, I'll roll those dice."

apologies for the sheer WALL of text, just. i have a particular vision of the AU i'm writing and this version ain't compatible, but it IS soft and i am weak for that

ONCE AGAIN

[fillinforlater]

Master['s] Ball[s]

Male Reader x Choi Yena

Length: 2788 words

Tags: a totally normal gaming night, playing games, cute friendship, having fun, helping each other, grinding, sex as a reward, blow job, playing with testicles, balls, balls, balls, Yena really likes sucking you, jerking you off, soft dom, violent orgasm, pajama party gone wild

Inspiration: that Yena pic as well as some crazy ideas/implementation of Pokemon elements (I do not claim them to be right, just go along with it xD)

(A/N: I wanted to keep it at about 1k, but I went wild xD I feel obliged to @usedpidemo and @worldsover but it's for all of you Yena lovers out there!)

“Ugh, dang it! I can’t beat this guy.”

Yena slams a hand on her blanket and sulks. It has not been her night. Usually, she is bubbly and energetic when the two of you play games together, but today, both her luck and skill seem to have run out. She can’t get past this one difficult enemy, who has a strong matchup against her. 

Peek over her shoulder as she walks across the world to buy items and once again tries to beat her nemesis. She is playing on her 3DS, one of the older Pokemon versions, in her memory the hardest. You have been too occupied with your own handheld device, a gray Gameboy with small scratches and concerning dents, to know how she is doing. 

Yena calls both your console and taste in games ancient and does not understand your obsession with the old, funky sound track and graphics. She will play with you, sure, but she prefers the newer games, the bigger worlds, the mostly easier games to play. No wonder she starts to whine at her first challenge. You giggle.

“Should I help you?” you ask Yena and rub her shoulder to cheer her up. A cute girl in pink pajamas with a pink 3DS and pink fingernails should not get sad over a game, especially if there is someone who could help her. She just has to swallow her pride.

“No, I can do it on my own!” Yena responds and starts up the fight again. At first she is confident, calculated, her attacks connect, but as the battle continues, her Pokemon faint. One by one, her opponent can take them out, always having an answer for what she throws at him. In the end, it’s a devastating defeat and Yena lowers the 3DS, which she had put close to her face, as if it was of any use.

“Ts,” she hisses after a second of awkward silence and turns to look at you. “He is too difficult, I bet you can’t beat him either.”

“Can I at least try?” you ask her with a smile and she hands you the console. You make your own adjustments before the fight and notice some of Yena’s pre-match mistakes. Switch around items and Pokemon, and leave her confused as she watches from the side, scooting her body close to you, almost sitting on you. 

“Do you want to sit in between my legs?” you laugh when she almost falls onto you. It’s not an honest question, just a show of how uncertain you are with her being this close. You’re not children anymore, no kindergarten friends, but adults, who flee from reality ever so often in colorful, exciting worlds. However, Yena’s answer stuns you.

“Yes, that would be so cool! Like when we were kids!”

You sit there and look at her with wide eyes, not moving, brain frozen with a mixture of conflicting emotions. There is thrill, a bit of fear, a droplet of child-like wonder and a sudden rush of… something warm in your chest. Yena suddenly takes matters into her own hands, pushing your legs apart and sitting down in between them, her back resting on your upper body. Your arms naturally fall around her and you have to put your chin on her shoulder to watch the two screens.

“Is this comfortable for you?” she asks kindly, her pink-pajama-covered legs touching your blue-pajama-covered legs.

“Ye-yeah, it’s n-nice,” you stutter and quickly try to focus on the battle ahead. Right from the get go it’s smooth. Watching Yena’s previous attempt, you have memorized the opponents playstyle and the attacks of his Pokemon. With smart play after smart play, you find answers for the things he throws at you.

Yena gasps in awe from time to time, shimming in excitement as you get closer and closer to succeeding. It’s like she is about to burst when you send out the final, winning hit and hear the triumphant music, but she holds herself back and wordlessly takes back her 3DS.

“And?” you ask her with a grin. “I did beat him. You didn’t believe me, but in the end, I’m still the Master at Pokemon.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Yena rolls her eyes and pouts her lips. “Well done, Pokemon Master. I would have beaten him too… eventually…”

“Don’t worry Yena, you’ll get there eventually.”

“Stop being so mean, ts.”

After your short banter, you expected her to get out from her seat in between your legs, but quite the opposite is true. She gets more comfortable, sinking into you like you're a chair and playing totally relaxed. You try to do the same, but after a bit of aimlessly wandering around in your own world of escapism, you turn off the Gameboy and decide to watch Yena play. 

It’s endearing, her adorable laugh at NPC’s textboxes, her attempts to hum the various melodies, her gasp when she finds a new Pokemon in the tall grass. Sadly, most of them run away or accidentally die before she can catch them, but you love the way she never gives up.

“What if I,” she suddenly says and turns to look at you, noses almost touching. 

“Wh-what is it, Yena?”

“What if I finally find a Jigglypuff and can't catch it? That would be really frustrating. They are so rare and easily the coolest Pokemon, but so rare. Can I ask you for help then?”

She looks at you with wide, adorable eyes, like a kitten who meows for food and someone to lovingly scratch her back. You can’t help but blush at her cuteness and pat her head.

“You can just get a Master Ball, you know? It’s not that hard to obtain in this game.”

“What is a Master Ball?”

“Wait, you don’t know the Master Ball? It’s an item which lets you catch every Pokemon on the first try, guaranteed.” 

“Really? That is so cool, please get me one!”

Yena eagerly hands you her pink console and you take charge of the controls once more. As you travel across the land, searching far and wide for the last couple of things to finish your quest for the item Yena so desperately wants. Speaking of Yena, she watches you play in awe, with dreamy eyes and adjusts her posture from time to time, which is not a big deal until—

Her butt reaches your crotch. You feel the softness of her, even through a couple of layers of pajamas you swear you can feel it right on your most private parts. You clear your throat, but Yena is oblivious to your signs and continues to melt her body into you, now even rubbing you. 

Focus back on the game, the task ahead will distract you. You can’t allow yourself to have lewd thoughts over Yena. She is your childhood friend, loyal from then to now and forever. Never would you allow yourself to think in that way about her—well, but her lips can probably do one word starting with ‘S’ very well, except for shouting and singing. 

No, focus. You need to get the Master Ball. If Yena can just get her Jigglypuff, her favorite Pokemon, and also favorite fighter in Smash, she would be all bubbly and her giggles would not only fill her room, but also your heart. With the Master Ball, this is basically guaranteed, so you carefully do your mission.

“Okay, I’m almost there,” you say frantically pushing buttons and Yena sways side to side, grinding herself more and more on your manhood.

“Yes, you can do it!” she shouts and for some reason starts to give quick taps to your cheek. Her smell can only be described as pink with a tiny hint of sweat coming from her pits and hands. During all the time you’ve spent with her you have never noticed this, but now it’s starting to mess with your mind. You don’t even really notice the last couple of inputs and the pop-up on the screen saying—

“You got it! The Master Ball, ya-hoo!”

Yena turns around and lunges at you. In your distracted state even her light, small frame can tackle you onto the mattress. Yena giggles gleefully at your shocked expression and reaches for the console. She saves the progress, then puts away the device just to lay her head onto your heaving chest. 

You feel your breath quicken and the pace of your heart reach a new height. Doesn’t help that her tummy presses right onto your dick and that you can't keep your lustful thoughts from spiraling further out of control.

"Thank you for the help," Yena coos and traces her finger along the side of your body, it tickles a little. "You truly are the Pokemon Master."

"N-no problem," you answer her with an awkward laugh, watching her finger drift further down until she lands right at a forbidden spot.

"Maybe I could help you with something too~?"

Wordlessly, Yena drags down your pajama pants along with your boxers. You feel your heart tighten in your chest and quickly hide your private parts behind timid hands, but shy words of rejection don't come past your lips.

Something about Yena's expression has you stunned, unable to think or move. She looks so happy, a bit giddy but still in control. With trembling, needy eyes she looks up to your face, down to your crotch, up to your face like she is watching an agonizingly slow ping-pong match. 

"I could feel it, you know? Let me help you with it."

She puckers her lips and moves them down to where she just sat. It's now up to you to remove your hands and let her have it or to call it off, tell her she is crazy for just suggesting something like this. You are friends, the type to play games to ignore all the responsibilities of life, from paying taxes and rent to political and family issues. No need to create more issues.

"You don't need to be embarrassed," Yena says with a small smile. "Just returning a favor. I promise it will feel good."

"I-I don't know."

"Trust me."

She puckers her lips. Shouting, singing—sucking, perhaps? Can you really be this bold, let her try it and maybe ruin something this important to you? She never had a boyfriend, so how would she know how to please someone?

"Trust me, okay?"

Yena repeats her words and you are tired of letting the doubts in your head repeat thrmselves. She is already this close to them, you might as well let her have it, and so you remove your hands from your cock and instead hide your flushed head.

"Hm, it looks a little different," Yena whispers as her face turns the same color as yours. "You are not really hard, but still… it looks big."

Somehow, your mouth feels dry. It isn't, you're not thirsty or anything, but for some reason it feels sticky. You barely get a whimper out when Yena sticks out her tongue to touch the tip of your semi-hard cock.

"Can I touch it?" Yena asks, her eyes big in excitement. You nod.

Carefully, Yena grabs the base of your cock and puts it upright. The soft touch of her fingers feels incredible, totally different from your own touch. The foreign hand, it's nice but you soon realize why it's also scary. She has no idea what it feels like to have a penis, so when she pulls up and rubs her hand too roughly over your cockhead, you yelp.

"Ye-Yena, ouch, ca-careful."

"So-sorry. I—oh my~"

Yena's jaw drops when she eyes your balls. Her puckered lips dive onto them and kiss them without hesitation and your knees flail in shock. That's what a mouth feels like on them, oh God.

"Master's Balls."

"What?"

"You know, like the it—"

"I get it, i-it's just so stupid."

The two of you chuckle. You feel tension vibrate out of your body, as if this isn't embarrassing, just a dumb little game you're playing. What could go wrong, really? 

"Sorry," Yena cackles and attacks your sack a bit bolder this time, trying to put it into her mouth whole. You watch her and groan at her tongue licking and grazing and spreading spit over them.

"How could you sa—ah!"

Your question ends in a moan when Yena starts to stroke up and down your shaft, getting it harder in the process.

"How could I what? Get you this hard~?" Yena teases and this time opts for only one of your balls, which easily fits into her eager mouth.

"S-s-say the, that Ma—fuck, Yena!"

Now she is pumping at a speed faster than you usually start with while watching porn. Come to think of it, a lot of the girls you watch porn of look similar to Yena. The cute type, with shapely lips and a bubbly personality. In all honesty, during some of the blowjob scenes, you thought of Yena doing it; but when you now open your eyes, which is hard with the mind-boggling pleasure on your sensitive balls, she is right there, doing it.

It’s better than the fake Yena of your imagination, world’s above than just your hand. The way she goes up and down your joystick, adds saliva to her hand and grips it with perfect tightness again, while suckling gleefully on your left ball, your right one—shit, she can call them whatever she wants, you’d even let her poke your balls. 

“Yena, y-you’re the best,” you moan and pat her head with shaky hands, watching her eyes peek behind your throbbing erection. 

“Hihi, thank you, Pokemon Master,” she giggles and licks up from your balls to your red tip. She guides out droplets of clear precum which has you accidentally trap her body with your knees when you tense up. Yena can take the hit without getting hurt, but the attitude in her scintillating eyes changes from one of playful joy to blissful desire.

“Wh-where did you l-learn this?”

“I was watching certain videos,” Yena lewdly giggles.

A pop and your balls are free. Boy, you can feel how they want to release the cum you didn’t know you had pent up. Yena notices it herself, which she emphasizes by cupping your balls and stopping her strokes but keeping a tight grip on your base.

“You are so full. Don’t get me wrong: I want you to explode in my hands, but first you have to admit it.

“Did you ever think about me doing this?”

Fuck, how does she—

“I—I would n—

“Yes, I did. Yena, I fantasized about your lips qu-quite often.”

“That’s good,” she coos and puts the slightest bit of pressure on your sack, making you hiss and slowly tear up. “Then why didn’t you tell me? We could have had fun for longer.”

“S-sorry, I didn’t know.”

“Be honest with me. Always.”

“O-okay.”

Yena rubs your cock on her cheek. She is so soft, such an adorable girl, but here she also is, going down on you. Past her ducky lips, into her warm mouth, your tip disappears. If she only learned this through watching porn, it’s impressive that she has you this close to an orgasm already. Then again, it’s Yena. Yena, who you notice is much more than just a gaming buddy.

“Th-that feels so good,” you groan. “I-I’m getting close.”

“I knew you’d like my mouth,” Yena says with a smile and suddenly starts to jerk you off rapidly. “But now cum from just my hand. Cum, like you’re watching a video, imagining me, like I’m not even here.”

“B-but, y-you are—fuck, Yena, I want you!”

Yena can’t hear you. She is too enamored with the taste and texture of your balls

which can’t hold their white stuff anymore. A final suck on each one of them and you violently release—Yena violently forces her cum out of you. She does not stop even as the ropes fly into the air and rain down on her head and your pajamas. 

With a harsh thud you crash back on the bed, your cock still wrung out by an eager Yena. It’s like a new kind of firework for her or the first snowfall of winter. Why else would she put out her tongue to catch some of it and get a taste? Wrinkles form on her forehead when she swallows it.

“Hm, pretty salty and… weird.”

“S-sorry,” you barely squeeze out, head spinning, legs twitching.

“Nah it’s fine.”

Yena climbs up to your sweat covered face. She has this huge grin on her face.

“I’ll have a lot of time to get used to the taste, right, Pokemon Master?”