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elioslover · 1 year

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Masks On (Harry Styles x reader x smut).

Premise: Harry finally visits a sex club and what are the chances, you just so happen to be doing the same thing.

Word Count: 8k+ / Other Writing

Warnings: Smut from start to finish. P in V, Unprotected sex, literally all the sex things, just pure FILTH. Afab 2nd person (minimal OC description).

Also, shout-out to @justmeinatree for the encouragement and @caramello-styles for being such a sweetheart!

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Harry feels the energy shift as soon as he steps out from the mass of thick, velvet curtain that worked to shield the utter filth that lay just beyond. The club- as referred to, looks more like a converted condo, with walls dyed with deep hues, ultraviolet lights instead of harsh bulbs, and purple and red bounce across the room- the floors, the ceilings.

Though the room is busy, everyone is scattered, and it feels spacious enough. Harry observes the array of beds and sofa’s instead of tables and chairs; people are going at it, moans mixing in with the deep bass emitted from nearby speakers.

Patrons- dressed in only bowties and Grecian inspired masks, carrying trays of beverages and sex toys with a formality that seemed foolish for a play like this. The pretty penny Harry had paid to be here was clearly being put to good use.

The entire thing screamed ‘filthy rich fun’, which, even for Harry, seemed almost awestriking; it was the type of elite secrecy one would never dream of, and if he had any doubt about joining this evening, it was erased the minute a waiter appeared before him, offering up a glass of whisky he wasn’t even sure he had ordered.

To be fair, after such an effort to simply enter this place, plenty of hoops to jump through and many questions to be answered and confirmed, it only made sense that the owners would ensure it was more than worth it.

Harry put the crystal to his lips, downing its contents in an anxious bid for comfortability. Instead, it burned at his chest and sent a long shiver down his spine; he shuddered, his skin sprinkled with goosebumps.

Ridding himself of his blazer, white tank top, leather loafers, and other personal belongings when he arrived, assured they would stay safe in his absence, Harry now stands in only a pair of black briefs. They cling to his thighs, pinching at the meaty expanse of his soft skin, diffing into and trapping a few of the hairs growing at the base of his pelvis.

But Harry could be fully nude for all he cares- the platinum, Phantom of the Opera mask that covers the top half of his face and stops at the bridge of his nose has him feeling invincible and fucking frisky. He feels like the god he impersonates, ready to delve into the mass of bodies stroking and loving on one another, his cock twitching against the restricting cotton as confirmation.

The beds are king-sized, holding space for at least four, and a few are evidently occupied by many more than that. Sheer material is draped across the ceilings like a canopy, creating a cosy and inviting atmosphere. Harry heads over to an empty velvet green chaise lounge, plopping down lazily, his legs spread out, thighs splayed, his one arm resting on the armchair, his other palm laying out across his lower stomach.

He turns his attention to the nearest bed, only a meter away, and begins watching as a throuple of two males and a female are switching positions. The girl lays on her stomach, flat against the bed, ass up, as the first man crawls up, spreads her ass cheeks apart and rubs his cock against her once before thrusting himself up into her. They reach a smooth rhythm, skin slapping as the second man lines up behind them, wrapping his arm around the torse of the first man; with a loud moan, the first man bucks forward, only moaning louder as the second man falls into position and starts fucking into him.

Harry hasn’t noticed the way his hand has lowered, palming himself through his briefs, his body shifting to get more comfortable. On the same bed, another couple goes at it, a woman vigorously bouncing atop the cock of a man donned in a lion mask.

In the midst of it all, bodies thrusting and shifting- you are resting sweetly, sitting atop your folded legs, disguised by a black, sequined silver mask, stopping above the nose, your eyes so sharp that Harry spots them immediately, hooked on the way the fluorescent lights flicker the reflection of filth he has succumbed to. His first thought is about who you are, his second is why you’re currently here, and the third is the only one that really matters; how the hell can he get his hands on you?

Dressed in only your underwear, you have had your gaze set on Harry from the moment the curtains had pulled back and revealed him in all of his glory. He was a mass of chocolate curls and tattoos decorating a chiselled and muscular figure that had you wishing you could get your hands on.

For a while, he had seemed nervous, and that only had your curiosity blowing through the roof, your body aching to wrap around any part of him up for grabs. As he made his way over, your heart was in your throat, attention completely thrown from the couple you had intended to participate with just moments prior. They were going at it regardless, bumping up against you, but your focus would be unwavering, your mouth watering at the view of his thighs, thick and spread out just for you.

He seems to be looking your way- maybe just observing the other couples, but something tells you by the way his body shifts, his eyes hidden but holding your own gaze, makes you feel like he might want you just as you want him.

A woman, her hair long and auburn, hidden behind a green dragon mask, drops onto the bed beside you, her knees softly hitting the mattress as she whispers suggestively into the shell of your ear. Cheeks flushed, your gaze remains on Harry, with the way he managed to stir such wanting in you, all by just sitting across the room.

His intrigue seems to pique, waiting to see what your plan was- were you going to entertain the woman next to you? Her cool fingers tickling their way up your spine, your body an eruption of goosebumps.

And you wish he would just come over or that you had the confidence to greet him yourself, but he seems comfortable and unwavering, leaving you to turn your attention back to something actually tangible; the woman currently pressing her lips to the nape of your neck.

Shifting your body to greet her own, you sit up on your knees and boldly wrap your hands like a chain around the back of her neck. She leans into your touch, anticipating your next move, a soft gasp escaping her lips as yours pressed on firmly, tongue licking into her own.

Your eyes have fluttered shut, your body soothed into the sultry kisses sucking at your bottom lip, but your thoughts wander over to the man on the couch, hoping to some god that he might be watching, that he might be regretting the choice to stay put.

Lips parting for deep inhalation, the woman’s hands are soft and static as they trail the soft mounds of your skin, and when your eyes finally open in the hopeful search of the man, you are more than surprised to find him much closer now, standing at the end of the bed.

His gaze is certainly set on your own, and you want to feel bashful at the circumstances, but the erotic stimulation happening all around you and the way Harry is looking at you hungrily, his muscles flexing involuntarily, only dampens your panties further, has your thighs clenching tighter.

He must notice because his pupils are blown, and he is crawling over now, slowly stalking out his prey, happily trapped in the arms of an auburn woman. He is more than welcome, though, your back pressing into the woman's chest, her lips still tickling at your throat, and when he comes to a halt at the base of your knees, you feel zero embarrassment as they part as a welcoming gift, offering him anything he desires.

“Well, hello pretty girl.” He greets, his cock throbbing as your chest raises and you take a sharp inhale, blinking at him in a way that has him feeling like a sinner- and he hasn’t even touched you yet.

“Hi handsome.” You respond, doing your best to keep your voice from cracking, almost completely distracted by the look of arousal in his eyes that seems to be increasing at just the sound of your voice, like a siren song only luring him further into the ocean in which you resided.

Harry can hardly stop himself from sighing out, from snatching you up and fucking you into submission, instead taking his time in luring you closer, his cock pleased at the ease with which you opened up for him, mind a mess of where to start.

He taps your thigh as an instruction, satisfaction shivering at his spine as you comply, spreading your legs, bum pressed flat to the mattress. Harry can't stop himself from wrapping his palms around your ankles, tugging you forward with enough force to have you exhaling a squeak, the woman’s grip tightening around your chest.

He looks at you like you are supper, his hands trailing their way up your calves, stroking slowly; as he reaches your thighs, he gives them a selfish squeeze, crawling his way over until he is almost face-to-face with the white lace of your panties.

His breath is cool as it fans over the heat of your lower abdomen, legs threatening to quake, and his grip only tightens, his stern stare never wavering, watching your every breath, the way your chest rises and falls in anticipation.

With the gentlest of kisses to your panty-clad crotch, you cannot withhold the deep sigh that slips past your lips, a keen whine whistling its way over to him, his stomach clenching, blood rushing to his cock. Harry’s tongue slips past his plump lips, licking a firm strip up your damp lace, his mouth watering in synch.

His left hand finds a firm home on your hip, helping to keep you pinned between the bed and his touch; his right-hand trails tauntingly along your sternum, fingers dancing into the dip of your belly button, playing your hipbones and pelvis like a harp before a sudden gush of coolness catches you off guard and his thumb hooking into the slit of your panties, tugging them aside in one firm go.

Your eyes widen with lust, unable to look anywhere but at the holy sight below you; the woman cradling your torso presses her lips wherever space omits, travelling in search of the mounds of your breasts, and your entirety is begging to turn to mush in the arms of pleasure as Harry leans forward and gives your pussy the gentlest of kisses, your eyes fluttering shut as he presses another, then another, his tongue joining in to lap at you, dipping into you.

He holds you in place with ease- where the hell would you rather be right now? And as the auburn woman latches her teeth around your pebbled nipple, your leg’s part even further- if possible- prompting Harry to release you from his prior grip, to hold you at the waist, his body pressed into the mattress, his cock flush and swollen from even the slightest of friction.

He can't stop from thrusting forward as a soft mewl slips past the gaps in your teeth, tongue pressing into you, gliding up your slit, flicking at your clit before his free hand cannot help but join the mix, massaging at your inner thigh, teasing at you as you buck your hips up in anticipation.

It's difficult to keep from sighing out in pleasure, but you try your best, harshly capturing your bottom lip between your teeth, tugging harder as Harry continues licking into you, flattening his tongue, flicking it against your clit, dipping into your entrance.

He has died and gone to heaven; his chin is coated in you, glistening under the neon lights, and with one hand still stroking and squeezing at your inner thigh, Harry uses the other to hook into the bands of your panties, hastily guiding them down the hills and valleys of your body and you assist, ass raising from the mattress, balancing on one leg as he slides the material along and off of your skin.

Discarded and dismissed, you are bare and spread for him, a sight Harry will be committing to memory, and he looks at you hungrily- you’re ready to be ravished.

Your pussy is practically dripping, and Harry’s hand must be possessed because it reaches out, and his finger glides through your slit, quickly dampening. The sigh you release is almost sinister, and Harry has his face buried between your thighs in an instant.

With his tongue licking at you, the almost forgotten auburn woman is still trailing kisses along your neck, her fingers tweaking and squeezing at the skin of your breasts. You are officially a mess of pleasure, ready to beg for more- anything- all of him.

It’s like he reads your mind as his fingers start to tease at your pussy, rubbing back and forth, his tongue focusing on your clit, swirling circles, his middle finger slipping past your entrance with such ease that Harry mutters, “fuck me” and lets it slide all the way in, curling upward. With such positive reception from yours truly, he keeps at it, all of his focus dedicated to pleasing you.

With the way his one finger becomes two, pumping into you with such vigour, you are writhing beneath him, thighs threatening to clamp around his head like earmuffs, blocked by his one hand keeping you put.

Your head starts to lull back into the auburn woman’s lap, but Harry is quick to correct this, pulling out his fingers completely, sticky and wet, his mouth changing from loving on you to scolding,

“Uh, uh.” He taunts, his brows furrowed, “Eyes on me, princess.”

You do everything in your power to comply, staring at him with all your might as he gets back to work, a satisfied smile still lingering on his lips as his tongue laps at your pussy, his fingers fucking back into you, curling, picking up the pace.

His fingers are in complete rhythm with his tongue- they are on a mission. And by the sounds currently escaping your lips, chest rising and falling needily, Harry is certainly succeeding.

But each moment that passes is becoming agonizing for him, desperate to substitute his fingers for his cock, currently aching to bury itself inside you.

Harry tries to pacify his cock by grinding up against the mattress, but this only has him moaning against your pussy, which in turn has you doing the same, your hands fisting the sheets.

He can no longer hold on, flattening his tongue to give you one last good licking before he removes his fingers and then himself, leaving you in absolute awe and confusion- a spark of panic flashing across your features.

Harry doesn’t want to startle you, but you can't stop the yelp that escapes you as his hands wrap around your ankles, and with one tug, you are before him, his face aligned with your torso.

He stands, holding out his hand to assist you in doing the same. You do, and once your feet are safely planted on the floor, Harry’s hands are kneading at your waist and hips. He permits you a moment to stabilise before his hands find the back of your thighs, and he hoists you up into your arms, legs wrapping around his waist.

Pussy bare and pressed against his torso, the five-step walk over to the sofa feels endless, so when he finally sits, safely cradling your back, you lower with him, coming to a rest atop his cool thighs, knowing he will be slick with wet by the time you’re finished with him.

Arms wrapped loosely across his shoulders, your fingers play with the loose curls at the base of his neck, and you lean, the outline of your mask bumping up against his own as you finally retrieve what you’ve been after all along, pressing your lips to his, tongue taking out all of your prior frustrations as it tangles with his own, scrapes along his teeth, traps and tugs his bottom lip until he is left begging for breath, lips plump and freshly-stung.

Going in for more, your palms find the sides of his face, sandwiching him between lustrous kisses, your chest pressing to his own, a whine bubbling at your throat when his grip tightens, holding you hostage and creating a gap just small enough for his hands to slip from their place on your back and to cup your breasts, squeezing and palming them as his tongue continues to lap at your own.

With the feeling of your nipples perking up so nicely beneath his thumbs, Harry cannot resist the urge to start trailing sloppy kisses along the nape of your neck, your clavicle, his open mouth leaving a trail as it makes its way down your chest, his tongue licking at the valley of your breasts before his lips finally catch your nipple, flicking at it, your body arching back desperately, pleading for more.

With a harsh nip, his tongue soothes your swollen skin, his hands squeezing at the mounds of your breasts, and your body has a mind of its own now, jutting up against him, your pussy sad to be met with only the friction of his briefs, desperate to grind your wetness across his cock, feel him slipping between your folds.

After the third time, your body glides down into contact with his own, a frustrated sigh slipping past your lips; Harry seems to catch on and woefully unlatches his mouth from your skin, but with more than just happiness, he shifts beneath you- and you also shift to allow him better access- his fingers hooking into the bands of his briefs, tugging them down in one swift motion to settle around his mid-thighs.

His cock springs up, swollen with relief and flush with freedom. Your gaze never wavers, hyper-focused on how pretty the man sitting beneath yours truly is- all of him is just too good to be true at this point.

You want to spend eternity, or at least a moment, marvelling and taking him all in, but he is closer than ever, and your pussy is clenching at just the sight of him- practically screeching to have him buried deep inside you.

With that, you reach out and give him one mandatory stroke, to soothe both him and yourself, and by the way his mouth parts, his eyes hooded, body jolting and then relaxing back into your touch, you sling your leg over his lap to straddle him, his face level with your chest, his hands instinctively coming to a rest on the pillows of your hips.

Your arms become a noodle around his neck like in preparation for dancing the salsa, your hips rocking forward without hesitation, pussy skating along the length of his shaft, leaving him slick with just one stroke.

Harry doesn’t even try to stop the string of mutters he sings out into the crevasse of your breasts, breath fanning chills all along your skin just as your hips buck again, sliding up against him, squeaking out as the tip of his cock rubs up against your clit.

You push on into an agonisingly slow rhythm, dragging out each stroke until Harry is so frustrated that he works extra hard to avoid rutting up into you- oddly satisfied letting you take the lead- so his mouth begins leaving sloppy kisses along your chest, your shoulders, the creases of your neck. And whilst the idea of holding onto this sense of control was something you really wanted to indulge in, you cannot stop your body from picking up speed, ever so slightly upping the rhythm.

Harry is struggling to keep himself from turning the two of you over and fucking you into the sofa cushions, taking out his agitation by unexpectedly spitting on your chest, and both of your gazes drop to watch as the dribble of spit travels like a delicate stream down the valley of your breasts, meandering towards your bellybutton.

You rut up against him with force now, pupils swelled and hungry. At the last minute, Harry commands his pelvis not to thrust, taking a section of skin on your breast between his front teeth, nipping and sucking at it until it stings, giving you one last tug before pulling back, his tongue slipping out to softly lap at the blooming bruise. Tiny and speckled with red and purple, this mark will serve as a reminder of the scandalous events of this evening.

More so, this mark is the last straw, your lips angrily finding his own, tongues arguing for domination- Harry’s succumbs the second one of your hands reaches down between your laps, grabbing at his cock and guiding him into you without a second thought.

You take him in with ease, but he is a stretch the further you slide down on him, your belly feeling full as your body finally comes to a sitting on his cock. Harry’s head has tilted back, his eyes fluttering open and shut.

He wants to thrust up, he wants to watch your breasts and body bounce about atop of his cock, needs to see the way your skin jiggles and stretches for him, the way your face crinkles up in pleasure and satisfaction… but Harry lets you do anything you want, lets himself be at your mercy.

And fuck, you make the idea of losing control feel really good, raising your body until only his tip remains inside of you, threatening to leave him out in the cold, but at the last moment, you grind back down, letting him fill you up gluttonously, easily finding a groove, your backside slapping against his thighs, skin-to-skin creating the beat of a drum, and with each smack, you only want to go faster, harder, unable to resist the need to tease and drag things out.

Harry is a mess of moans, only making you feel like you are being cheered on during a marathon, encouraging you to up your stamina and reach the finish line in record time. His hands are all over you, tugging you closer, one hand wrapping tighter around your waist, guiding you up and down his cock, desperate to hear you whine louder, to let others know how good it felt to be riding him. And you want everyone to know, too; you want them to know that they could all leave, and you would be more than happy to just let Harry spend the rest of the evening fucking you into a semi-permanent coma.

Harry shifts, spreading his legs to offer you a new angle, ready to drool as a dragged-out sigh slips out from deep within you, and he knows he’s just hit a good spot.

So, as any good boy would, Harry bucks up into you again and again, motivated by each moan, putting his all into making you sing for him, your hand digging into his biceps, then his back, down his torso, squeezing at his thighs as your stomach starts to clench, heart rate picking up and when you start to feel lightheaded, you welcome the wave of euphoria threatening to wash over- you hear nothing but the soft praises Harry mutters for your pleasure, your body grinding down on his pelvis desperately chasing your high, whining out as his hand spreads your cheeks, guiding you through a long-anticipated orgasm.

Coming down, your head slumps against his damp shoulder, cheek pressing into his warm, soft skin. You can hear his heartbeat; it’s as fast as your own- if not faster; his breaths are scattered, and Harry wonders what will happen next.

He wants to revel in the moment but is hit with disappointment as you slowly and carefully guide him out of you, and he wants to hiss out at the cruel loss of contact.

Your leg swings over and off of his lap, standing tall and gazing down at him with a curious brow furrow that has Harry ready to question his entire existence, but when your arm extends out to him, offering to wrap his hand in your own, Harry feels butterflies beating at his belly, and he accepts in an instant, ridding himself of his briefs, tossing them aside with little to no regard before grabbing your hand, feeling fuzzy at the visual of how small it looks cradled in his own.

Trailing behind you, willing to let you drag him just about anywhere, it seems you have targeted a bed sitting empty in a quaint corner of the room.

But your ass is bouncing with each step you take, and with gravity offering him such a gracious gift, Harry's hand reaches out with the need to grab, settling with a soft slap to your left cheek, a chuckle slipping past his lips as you let out a little whimper of surprise, body jolting forward, thighs jiggling for his absolute pleasure, and all thoughts of the bed are forgotten as Harry pushes your bodies into the nearest pillars. The look in your eyes adjusts from surprise to arousal at the newfound feeling of your body being backed up into the icy marble, turning into a tornado as Harry's simmering skin keeps you mounted like a shiny trophy.

Harry thinks he's really got you now, your skin so silky, your muscles contracting against his own, keening into his hold, lashes batting up at him like he holds the keys to the garden of Eden; with softness, he presses a breathy kiss to your own parted lips, and now that he has you so perfect and patient, he hasn't the faintest clue where to start.

It would be polite to give him a moment to gather his thoughts, perhaps plot his next move, but you know exactly what you want- no, need- next, and with Harry's head so preoccupied with the idea of you that his hold isn't strong enough to stop you from slipping out from his trap, turning around, your palms pressing flat to your chest as you gift him a gentle, but firm push, his back smacking into the same marble you had just escaped.

Harry feels awestruck, unsure what to think, but his cock is certainly pleased, throbbing at the unfamiliar shift in dynamic, desperate to see what you might do next. And when his eyes, swollen with lust, focus on your own, there is a glimmer of certainty that has him almost keeling over; the need to get on his knees and beg for you is killing him.

But it seems that you are the one who will be on your knees as you keep one palm against his chest, unsure of whether he's willing to stay put, and your body drops to the floor, knees happily greeting the tiles.

With your left hand still holding him in place and your right hand coming to a rest on his waist, fingers squeezing into his fleshy cheeks, Harry's head lulls black in bliss, throat bobbing, both of his hands casting a shadow over your own, wrapping around your wrists like pretty bracelets.

Leaning forward ever so sweetly, your lips pucker and place a polite kiss on the tip of his cock. Harry's hips buck forward without his consent, and your hand leaves his chest, gliding lazily down his torso until it comes to rest on his shaft.

Thoughts of how perfectly he fits between your fingers are blurring your vision, but at the sound of Harry pathetically hissing from above, your grip tightens, body shuffling closer, his own hand settling like a scarf around the back of your neck. His hand stays statuesque, unsure of pushing your boundaries and frightened of catching your hair in one of his many rings. But when you reassuringly nuzzle your crown into his palm, Harry finally relaxes, his fingers- still carefully- slip into and massage the hair at the base of your neck.

You’ve got him right where you want him, and there’s no time to waste as you close the last of any remaining space, bowing forward and closing in like at communion, mouth opening, ready for the catholic wafer but instead closing your lips over the tip of his cock, your tongue darting out to swirl at his head and loving the way he tries to resist bucking into you, stop himself from hitting the back of your throat.

Just the idea has you dripping, fulfilling the desire to take him further in your mouth, your free hand slowly pumping his cock, holding him in place as you suck him, slowly taking in as much as you can manage before slowly pulling back, letting your tongue trail along his shaft in your wake.

Right as Harry begins to fear that you might release and leave him high and dry, you swallow him again, bobbing and creating a rhythm, a small sliver of spit slipping past your lips as you take him as far as your mouth will permit, tongue lapping at him, your hand pumping the base of him as Harry huffs and puffs above you.

And when you can’t help but glance up at him from beneath hooded lashes, the way Harry cusses out and rolls his head back against the pillar is enough to have you picking up the pace, swallowing him with vigour, desperately trying to fit as much of him possible into the hollows of your cheeks.

Slowly, your head begins to bob, taking all of his cock in before pulling back, then again, and again, your hand still pumping him, spit gliding along his shaft and soaking your fingers.

You release his cock from your mouth, still gliding your hand back and forth, pumping him and peering up at him with doe-like eyes.

“Fuck.” Harry whines, the back of his head bumping against the pillar, “Y’gonna be the death of me, sweetheart.”

With a mischievous grin, you place a gentle but menacing kiss on the tip of his cock before flattening your tongue and licking his shaft from base to tip before taking all of him in your mouth once more, creating the perfect rhythm, your other hand leaving his thigh and cupping around his balls, massaging him, head grooving up and down his cock. Harry is a complete mess, his muscles flexing with each suck and release.

You guide his cock to the hollow of your left cheek, brushing him against your mouth before ever-so-softly gliding his head along your bottom teeth and rubbing him against your right cheek. He is still moaning above you, and when you suddenly tilt forward and take him so deep that his cock brushes the back of your throat, Harry is cussing out, his hand tightening around the base of your neck.

You lean your head back into his palm as a form of encouragement, and Harry thinks you may be the most perfect creature of planet Earth itself. He cautiously begins guiding your head, testing the waters as he becomes a guide for his cock, sliding into your mouth.

Happy to oblige, you try to remain as still as possible, your pussy throbbing each time he brushes against your throat, and when you almost gag, Harry has officially died and gone to heaven. His pace quickens, forcefully- but so carefully- bucking into you, loving how soft and plump your lips are, how well you take him- how deep.

The thought of his cum dripping down your chin has him in utter shambles, and that is not how he wants this evening to go- yet. So, with one last thrust and grunt, he ruefully removes himself, hissing at the rush of cool air that greets his tip and almost crying at the sight of the string of spit connecting from your lips and his cock.

Using the back of your hand to dismiss the spit, you peer up at him curiously, rather proud of your work but still hoping to have more of him.

Harry guides your head as a gesture, hissing at the rush of air that greets the tip of his cock, and this only causes his impulses to increase- so, as soon as you have found your feet and are looking up at him with blown-out pupils and puffy pink lips, Harry finally reclaims control, his hands wrapping you up and spinning you around in one swift motion and you are now facing the pillar, your palms pressing flat against the cool surface.

His hands find your hips, thumbs pressing into your fleshy skin and, on instinct, your back arches, ass desperate to press up against him. Harry releases his right hand from your hip, wrapping it around his stiff shaft and guiding it towards your entrance. Ass up, spine curved, your breasts press into the icy pillar, your body scooting up against the pelvis, and when the head of his cock glides along your pussy, just stopping short of your entrance, you moan out enthusiastically.

Harry gives you one last tease, his tip slipping into you before pulling back out, but before you have the opportunity to whine out, he thrusts into you, and instead, you arch out for him even more, sighing out, breasts squishing into the pillar.

He guides his cock in and out, painfully persevering, taking his damn time, but after a third deep and forceful thrust, you shuffle back into him impatiently, and Harry wants to chuckle aloud at your lack of patience now that he has you pressed up against him.

But your neediness is too tantalising to resist; Harry can’t stop his hips from bucking up into you, almost drooling at the hum of satisfaction you reward him with as he thrusts again, this time harder, his arm reaching around to rest his palm on your stomach, keeping you pinned as he proceeds to fuck into you.

Harry keeps going, huffing in sync with each thrust, his stomach clenching as you mewl against him, your palms pressing into the pillar and holding on for dear life. His hand slides down from your stomach to the back of your right thigh, raising it until your knee bumps up against the marble, and when he’s certain you plan on keeping it there, he releases your leg and proceeds to pound into you, his hand snaking around until it finds your pussy, fingers gliding along your wetness, seeking out louder moans, desperate whines.

And you are- unable to hold yourself back any longer, overcome with the electric current coursing through you with each thrust, each time his thumb brushes against your clit. You are chasing another orgasm, pushing your palms against the pillar in an attempt to get closer to him.

Harry kindly obliges, pressing his chest into your back, pulling you flush against his damp and flexed torso as he keeps at it, bucking up into you with all of his willpower, hands grabbing at you, adamant to have you as near as possible.

Right as you feel yourself about to tip over the edge for a second time in just minutes, Harry interrupts by pulling out and wrapping you up in his arms and hastily turning you around to face him. Concern flashes across his features as your back bumps up against the pillar, but when you only whine out, your left leg lifting up, calf wrapping around his waist, Harry guides his cock back into you, bucking up with commitment and determination to have you come unravelled against him once more.

And you are unravelling, chemistry at play as your body becomes a mix of ecstasy and euphoria. You are grabbing at every part of him, never wavering for too long, tugging at his hair, squeezing at his biceps, pressing your pelvis up against his own. Harry is doing the same, feeding off of your needy whines, unsaid pleas for him to keep going, and when you can’t help but turn them into verbal pleas, asking him so sweetly to fuck you “just like that”, he is in an absolute state,

“Yeah?” He confirms- only for the sake of hearing you speak up again,

“Yeah.” You stutter out, nails digging into the nape of his neck, scraping along his shoulder.

Harry is enamoured, you’re being such a good girl for him, and he wants to reward you for being so. But he also wants to be a little testy and has the urge to see how much nicer you’re willing to be for him, so he deems it necessary to hold out on you a tad longer.

He wraps his arm around the middle of your back, pressing you into him, and he bows his head and leans in as close to your ear as possible, his warm breath fanning over the nook of your neck and clavicle, ensuring you hear him loud and clear,

“Ask me nicely.”

Your head snaps up, looking at him with incredulity, but too desperate to do anything other than give him what he wants. One of your hands finds his torso, palms trailing along his chest as your other hand tightens around his neck in physical protest, which is the last thing that would ever slip past your lips. Trying your best to give him your politest plea, your mouth plump and puckered, mousey eyes flickering playfully up at him,

“Pretty please.”

And that’s all Harry needs, thrusting into you with repayment, revelling in the way your body accepts his reward so enthusiastically. He picks up the pace, pounding into you and making certain that you are more than welcome to come undone all over him,

“Such a good girl for me.”

You’re nodding at him desperately, body crumbling with each praise he is granting you, and when his palm slips down between your bodies, landing on your pussy and lazily swirling loops atop your clit, you are a shaking mess- in a frenzy and falling over the edge, coming all over his cock, softly chanting, “yes, yes.”

“So, so good.” He reminds you, holding onto you, keeping you secure and satisfied. He can feel the familiar stirring in his stomach, his cock twitching and tempted to come all over you.

But there’s no way he’s done with you, and he cannot fathom finishing now.

Your bucking has slowed, head lulling into the crook of his neck, trying to steady your breathing, and instead of giving in to an impending orgasm, Harry pats your bum firmly, wrapping an arm around your thigh, encouraging you to jump up into his arms.

He is still fully inside you and doesn’t plan on changing that, effortlessly guiding you up into his arms, one of his hands still on your backside, the other cradling your back. With great care, Harry starts to walk, staying slow and peering over his shoulder to make sure he’s going in the right direction.

Thankfully, the pillar was already the halfway point to the bed you had targeted earlier, and with your lips lazily trailing kisses along his torso, your nails digging into his back, Harry was overjoyed when his feet bumped into the base of the bed.

Impressively, he bows forward- your bodies still bound- his knees denting the mattress, lowering your bodies onto the bed until your back is pressed into the sheets and Harry is hovering over you, balancing on his forearms, his forehead brushing against your own.

“Ready to go again, princess?” His cool breath fans across your features, and you are nodding as if your life depends on it, your pelvis bucking up against him.

Harry’s brows furrow in amusement, his head bowing, lips brushing up against the shell of your ear, “Use your words, lovely.”

“Fuck.” You huff out, your right leg tightening around his waist, one of your hands digging into his bicep and the other tugs at his hair, “Please.” And just so he really gets the message, you add, “I want you.”

“Want me to what?” He drawls, tongue tickling your neck as one of his hands massages your breast.

“Fuck me.” Your reply is emotionless, stern and impatient, “Want you to fuck me.”

“Sassy little one, aren’t you?” Harry chuckles, squeezing your thigh endearingly.

You roll your eyes as if he hasn’t just stated the obvious, lifting your pelvis up to rub against him. His pupils are blown, and you want him inside of you- now.

“Are you gonna fuck me?” you ponder, nails dragging along his shoulder, “Or do I need to find someone else?” there is nobody alive that you could want more than him; he should know this from the way you are so eager to please him, but the mere suggestion has Harry thrusting into you mercilessly.

You whine out in both stupor and ecstasy, your back arching off of the bed, your breasts pressing into his chest. With one of his arms still holding him in place, Harry’s free hand comes up to cradle your face, your foreheads slick with sweat and sticking together.

His hands are about as big as your head, and that alone contributes to the next sigh you release, bucking up into him, meeting his thrusts in the middle, your pelvises slapping into one another.

Harry marvels at the way your bodies seem to so easily find a rhythm each time like you were made for him, and he for you. His thrusts are deep and with intention, stretching your pussy with satisfaction.

“Christ.” He huffs in astonishment, “Y’ feel so fuckin’ good.”

You can only moan out in agreement, at a complete loss for words. The only thing you feel is satisfaction sparking throughout your wholeness, and the only other thing you can think about is how badly you wish you knew his name- hoping to call it out to him as he pounds into you, desperate to reward him for doing such a good job.

Harry can't remember ever feeling so engaged in fucking someone- was there a time? Nothing before or after this moment matters; he could now die a happy man. You feel so warm and worked-up, pressed into him, grabbing at any part of him available for the taking.

He wants to let you, doesn’t mind if you spend hours or even days exploring him, poking and prodding his limbs and skin for reactions, having him like putty in your hands- all yours.

“More.” You huff out when it seems that Harry is getting caught up in his thoughts, and he thrusts into you so generously that your head lulls back to greet the mattress.

But now you are too far away for Harry’s liking; he needs to see those pretty eyes and pretty flushed cheeks, needs to see how good of a job he’s doing at pleasing you. His hand cradles the back of your neck, guiding your head back up, his lips waiting to latch onto your own.

Breathy kisses become open-mouthed ones. Harry’s tongue is dancing all along your mouth, biting on your lip and sucking on your tongue. Still, in a battle of kisses, Harry’s hand sweeps along your face and his pointer finger slips into your mouth. You suck on him like you were born solely for this purpose, and it’s Harry’s turn to stop his head from rolling back.

He keeps on at it, licking into your mouth while his cock rams into you relentlessly, each thrust accompanied by skin slapping, deep moans, hums of satisfaction and a stirring in your chest that only increases as Harry bends your leg and pins it to your chest, fucking into you from an angle that feels so good that you begin slipping away into a realm of pure pleasure.

“Like that?” Harry pants out, each thrust more purposeful than the last.

“Just like that.” You nod vigorously with gratefulness.

“Good girl.” He praises with a sloppy kiss, “Look so good like this.”

Harry keeps thrusting, and it’s not long before the look on your face starts morphing with frustrated delight, your eyes threatening to squeeze shut. But you don’t want to look away, instead glancing between your grooving bodies, in awe of the sight of his cock coated with all of you, pumping in and out so gracefully.

“Are you gonna be a good girl and cum for me?” He is kissing your neck, tongue wet and trailing along your skin.

And that is all you need to guide you back into another orgasm, your hips raised off of the bed and grinding up against his pelvis in a circular motion, hands holding onto him for dear life.

Harry groans, almost growls out, pushing into you, trying to pull you closer than physically possible, “Just like that, sweetheart.” You are definitely a sucker for his praises, desperate for more, and he obliges, “So good for me.”

With a surprising twist, Harry is forced to confront his impending orgasm as you pose a rather prolonged request, “Want you to cum for me.”

He wants to panic, the thought of this being over is simply heinous, but you only chuckle at the obvious distress beginning to warp his features and reassure him, “I still have plenty in store for you.” And for good measure, you add, “Unless you can’t… keep up.”

Harry knows you’re only taunting him for the fun of it, but the suggestion is obscene, and he seeks to prove you wrong. You are still grinding up against him, whimpering at the sensitivity, nevertheless needy for more, so he picks up the pace, ramming into you with everything he has to offer, his arm bending further into the bed to get closer, and your arms wrap around him to assist, tugging him flush against you, teeth nipping at his neck.

“Gonna let me swallow you, pretty boy?” You blink up at him innocently, “Wanna taste you so badly.”

His thrusts are getting sloppier, slower and more determined. Now that the offer of an orgasm is on the table, lying beneath him, so pretty and so tasty, Harry can’t resist pushing into you harder, deeper, grunting and huffing along, skin shivering at the feel of your nails tickling at his torso.

And when you tilt your head and aim your teeth for his ear, nipping his earlobe only to soothe it with the flick of your tongue, you ask one more time, “Pretty please.”

“Fuck. Fuck.” Is all Harry can muster in between a mess of moans, struggling to keep his weight from coming down on you, his free hand wrapping around your waist to hold you still, his cock wailing for release.

And he gets exactly what he’s been searching for, thrusting into you once more, treasuring it as he pulls out, stroking at his cock as the two of you shuffle around and you are quickly on your knees, mouth spread wide, tongue flat and pushing past your lips.

Harry doesn’t think he has ever seen something- someone- so beautiful, and he doesn’t stop thinking this as he starts to cum, spilling onto your tongue, his cock throbbing at the sight of you swallowing him so kindly, at the glistening of your swollen lips, the bobbing of your throat.

You wear your satisfaction with pride, and for the first time, you wonder if Harry actually can keep up. He hadn’t said so, in words, at least. But he is still close and starts edging closer, desperate to have his hands back on you. He gets what he wants, and you shuffle closer, following his gaze as it shifts to the nearest patron, using his free hand to gesture for their attention.

Before you get the chance to get too confused, the patron steps closer, and you can now clearly see the contents of his silver platter. Staring up at you is an array of toys, small and large, feathered or leather or even metal. You don’t even need to glance over at Harry to tell him you are definitely game, instead reaching out with an item already in mind.

Harry watches as you select your weapon of choice, turning back to him with satisfaction and a cheeky smile, the chosen toy on display is just begging to be played with, and it seems that both of you are ready to oblige.

🍒

Forgive me for I am a sinner and I feel zero regrets. Hell can have me because I am DONE. I hope you guys enjoy this one! It's been a while since I've blessed the children with smut and I hope I have succeeded lmao. - Emmy. xo 💞

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hazelfoureyes · 6 months

Text

Besties Get Banged (part2)

⟢Angel Dust x PornstarReader - Besties get Banged smut💦

Part 1 ꒰აMaleReader ✧ FemaleReader໒꒱ Part 2 ꒰აMaleReader ✧ FemaleReader໒꒱

Val leaves set and Angel offers the sofa of his dressing room to continue what you started.

「warnings/promises: Bottom Angel x Top MaleReader, anal creampie, Angel bounces on your dick, quick fuck, kisses, frotting, cuddles」 same story as female reader; just different bits and bobbles

minors dni 🧯

Angel’s hand slipped into yours as soon as Val was called off set. You two had been corrected for your behavior by the overlord, but luckily his square headed prince needed him.

“Ya know, I have a private dressin’ room.” Angel’s fingers tugged your hand, “With a sofa.”

The benefit of so many arms was how easily he could close the door, lock it, and pull open both of your robes all while you struggled to shake off your slippers.

His mouth left yours as he gently pushed you back toward the purple chaise lounge near the balcony door, “You whole?”

A common question amongst Val’s employees, especially those who found comfort in each other after his abusive power trips. Not are you hurt, that implies just physical harm. Not are you okay, you can be okay and not be okay. You understood very well what he was asking, are you mentally and physically comfortable to continue?

You nodded, “Yeah, you?”

“He doesn’t get to me as badly anymore,” two hands on your face, two on your hips. Ah, you wish you could touch him more, with as many hands as he had soft places to caress. Angel lowered you, lithe body coming to rest on yours as his hips began moving against your crotch. Soft cock slowly growing against your own, lube being rubbed along your length by his ministrations.

As soon as he was confident you were hard enough to enter him, he straddled your hips and sank down. The sigh he made, the weakness that came over his face as he felt you stretching him open made you shudder. Being enclosed into his tight but welcoming ass brought you a groan, you found Angel to be such an apt name now. A streak of electricity travelled from your spine down and forward to your crotch as you watched him begin to bounce.

Angel wasted no time in finishing the fucking he had been dreaming of just an hour earlier. His arms came down, fingers exploring your chest and stomach. Hungry for your affection, for the tenderness he so desperately needed, his mouth crashed into your cheek. Sloppy, happily unprofessional, he kissed and licked his way to your mouth, already open and waiting to receive him.

He tasted like candy on your tongue, sweet and melting. Every gasp and moan he pulled from himself riding your cock seemed to echo in your throat.

“Shit, close,” he whined, “Already”. He found your hands with his, pulling them up as he leaned back. Your arms offered stability as he began shallow but quick movements.

“Cum for me? Please.” A needy whine.

You sat up, grabbing him by the ass and raising him up. Two arms wrapped around your neck as he held tightly. Gripping that tiny waist you began to chase your release, pistoning up into his heat. Angel was gasping a chorus of “fuck”s into your neck.

He pulled you in for another kiss, lips pressing into yours with no rhythm or goal.

One of his hands came between your bodies, trying to meet you at the edge. “Cum inside me,” His hand was furiously stroking his red and leaking cock, eyes shut, his attention focused on the place where you were inside him, the heat and the stiffness of how aroused he made you. As he whispered, “so close” and whined “baby” into your ear with gasped breaths, you thought about feeling Angel Dust wringing your balls empty and quickly reached your orgasm.

“Cumming!” was all you could manage as your teeth clenched and head came down onto his shoulder. Your hips kept moving, drawing out as much as you could.

Angel’s hand pulled off, your stomach painted in long ropes of his cum. He brought back his hand after a brief pause, moaning as he gripped and pulled every last drop out onto his knuckles. You watched him dribbling down his hand and onto you.

His hips kept grinding, jerking with overstimulation. His still twitching hole gripped you and made you groan as you fell back.

“You came so deep,” he ground down in a circle motion, you hissing and smacking lightly at his ass.

“Sorry.” You offered.

“Whaddya apologizin’ for? I’m not complainin’.” He smirked down at you,m.

You slipped out, soft and spent.

Hot, he leaned down onto your chest. His mouth kept finding its way back to you, lazy but content kisses peppered across pink cheeks and flush lips.

Rarely he could be held so gently while sober, so he took his time in enjoying your tenderness. Four arms wrapped around you and squeezed, “Val’s not gonna let us work together again.” He said it matter of factly.

You sucked in through your teeth, “Yeeeeeah… I’ll probably get canned.”

Angel pursed his lips, “Well, I know a solution to both problems.” He pulled back, beaming down at you, “A place with free rent where yous’ can easily see me anytime we want. How do ya feel about group activities?”

༻Masterlist༺

Angelic Choir: @yea-no19 (sorry it look a month!)

#angel dust smut #angel dust x reader #angel dust #angel x reader smut #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel fanfiction #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel smut

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fayes-fics · 1 year

Text

Show Me

Pairing: Anthony Bridgerton x fem!reader, Modern AU

Summary: Too much Merlot and a challenge neither of you will back down from...

Warnings: 18+ smut, minors DNI, mutual masturbation, mutual orgasm.

WordCount: 2.4k

Author's Note: Anon request fill from HERE (request: modern Anthony masturbates for reader), with thanks to some lovely mutuals (@colettebronte and @eleanor-bradstreet) who helped me decide for this to be a mutual masturbation fic and the former for beta reading too. Sorry it's taken so long to write this, Nonny, but I hope you enjoy! <3

“Oh, Please. I know everything about you,” you wave a hand dismissively at him, relaxing onto the chaise of your sectional sofa, wine glass in hand, after hosting duties are over.

The dinner party was done long ago, but he’s still here, even after all the other guests have left.

“No, you don’t,” Anthony frowns, swallowing the last dregs of his red wine from the glass.

You snort derisively. “Okay, go on, I dare you, say something that would shock me,” you goad, only half-joking.

He raises an eyebrow at you and puts down his empty glass. Then he leans back and places both elbows on the cushion behind, manspreading with arms and legs.

“I think about you when I masturbate,” he offers casually.

When he utters seven words, your whole world grinds to a halt. That is NOT what you were expecting. For a few seconds, you are stunned into silence, a static buzz in your ears as your brain supplies an enthralling mental slideshow.

“Haha, very funny. No, you don’t,” your retort echoing into your glass once you find your tongue again.

“Oh yes, I bloody do,” he asserts, and as you turn to look at him now, there’s a thread of tension in the air.

You have sparred with this man so much over the years you’re surprised he has any feelings of attraction towards you. Although, if you think about it, somehow, it’s right on brand for him—fighting and fucking somehow being on the same continuum. A sudden acute curiosity about where this might go, not wanting to think too hard about what it could mean.

“Show me.”

It leaves your lips before you can stop yourself—the wine speaking for you. One of his eyebrows raises archily again, and there’s a twinkle in his eye that looks so dangerous.

“You always surprise me. It’s so fucking sexy,” he says low and gravelly.

The spike of euphoria makes every cell of your being fizzle with energy like a storm approaching. To hear him call you sexy is the hottest thing you have ever heard. It makes you bolder.

“Show me,” you repeat, staring him down, the power and crackling potential of this moment enthralling, even if you are almost sure he will back down now.

He licks his lips and then pushes back onto your oversized sofa, settling into the plump cushions. You twist to watch him as he holds your gaze and drops a hand to his fly. The sound of his zip fills the room as much as your slightly laboured breathing does.

Fuck, is he actually going to do this?

Your disbelief is only matched by the rapid beating of your heart. The most vexing, and yes, okay, most attractive man you know is about to masturbate for you. Surely a fever dream.

He flicks the button at the top of his jeans, and you see boxer briefs that are slightly tented and bite your lip. Still, he stares you down as your eyes ping between his face and his lap. Then he pulls down his underwear, and you see his cock spring out, already sizable, half hard and very delicious looking. That theoretical mental slideshow from just moments earlier is nothing compared to the real thing.

He fists himself and stares at you challengingly. Then ever so slowly, as a tease, he raises his hand and then drops it down with a slight curling action, emitting a tiny groan as you watch his cock twitch and come to life in his hand.

“Y/n.”

The way he says it is dark, delicious and pitched so low you throb between your legs, almost painfully, a prickly feeling runs over the base of your scalp—a spike of arousal so rough it catches your breath.

“Anthony…” slips out of your mouth. It’s breathy, and you barely recognise it as your own voice.

“God, say it again, just like that,” he hisses, and you watch his fist flex around his cock.

“Anthony…” you repeat, slower this time, throatier, intentionally pitched to arouse.

He groans, and his hand speeds up. All you can do is watch. Your clit pulsing in sync with your heartbeat, with his motions. Your strongest urge is to strip off your underwear and climb on him before he can come to his senses. But you don’t dare; you just sit there routed to the spot a few feet away, unable to look anywhere but him - at that glorious cock and handsome face.

His tongue peeks out and swipes over his bottom lip, then he groans slightly, fractionally pushing his hips off the sofa.

“Join me,” he dares, his hand speeding up slightly as he hissed through his teeth. “Touch yourself.”

A shiver ripples over your skin, leaving goosebumps in its wake. Just the thought of masturbating in front of him while he does the same is enough to make you flood.

You stare briefly into the rich, ruby pool of Merlot in your hand, then tip your head back and down the rest of the glass without thinking, placing the glass aside. Your eyes back on Anthony, delicious cock in hand, stroking gently and staring at you intensely.

“Liquid courage, I like it,” he nods, smirking with a wink that is far too seductive. “Go on, prove me wrong. Show me you’re not the person I think you are.”

You know he’s trying to manipulate you, not at all subtly, with flattery. But you let him.

“What sort of person do you think I am?” you challenge, toying with the hem on your dress, revelling in how his eyes linger on your fingers as you do so.

“Too repressed to do in front of me what I know you would do if I walked out right now,” he goads with an empty threat.

“You’re wrong on both counts,” you counter brazenly, the wine coursing in your bloodstream now, letting your hands slide up your outer thighs, taking your hem with them. “There’s no way you’d walk out of here right now,” you posit with a knowing smirk.

His eyes flash in the low lamp light, his hand still making languid strokes of his cock, as you reach the sides of your underwear and peel them down your legs, angled away slightly so he can't see between your thighs, heart hammering wildly in your chest.

“Oh fuck yes,” he hisses as you pull them from your feet with a flourish and toss them across the room. “Come closer,” he adds velvety, his free hand patting the cushion next to him.

“I'm staying right over here, Bridgerton,” you warn even as you lick your lips unconsciously as a bead of precum forms at his tip, him still pumping himself slow but steady.

It feels too much like jeopardy to be right next to him, uncertain you could stop yourself from doing anything to him, begging him for everything he is willing to give. Desire tugging low in your gut, making you impulsive to do things you could never walk back. The distance between you feels safer.

So instead, you slide your fingers under your dress, heel digging into the plush fabric as you widen your stance, and he growls at the sight. All he can see from his angle is your arm wedged between your legs; that is how you want to keep it. A tease, not letting him see the whole show. But dammit, if you aren't going to give him a spectacle anyway. Arching your back and throwing your head onto the cushion behind, you inhale sharply as your fingertips slide into your folds, temporarily taken aback by just how soaked you already are, your clit swollen and aching. It won't take much.

“How wet are you?” he demands, the tone needy and wrecked already, the hand wrapped around his cock moving faster now.

“Wouldn't you like to know?” you grit out defiantly, the antagonism still broiling under the surface.

“Yes, I fucking would - tell me!” it's impatient, through gritted teeth, and you shoot him a sideways simper.

“Never…” you tease as your fingers slide through the slick, viscous pool. The blistering lingering look you share is anything but animus.

“I can hear it from here,” he growls, and you can't stop the hitch in your breath in response, knowing there is a wet sound as you flick across your clit in a rousing motion.

Your sight is locked onto his hand as he speeds up, squeezing his cock more insistently now, the tip getting pink and slick. It takes every fibre of your being not to slide to your knees before him and lick him clean. Just that thought has you pushing your knees further apart, your other hand reaching inside your neckline to tweak a nipple, pebbled and aching to be touched.

“Fuck, y/n,” Anthony stutters, temporarily stupified by the undulating movement of your body as you bear down on your fingers and pinch the hardened tip of your nipple until you hiss.

“Don't you dare stop,” you warn through gritted teeth as his rhythm falters, transfixed by the sight of you bringing yourself close to the edge.

He snarls at your command and seems to snap back to it, fisting himself even tighter, his hand almost a blur now, huffed, hungry noises escaping his lips as he stares at you, wild-eyed untamed, goading you to break with him.

The room feels too hot, the flush of alcohol coursing through you, the smell of sex in the air as you both push your bodies rapidly towards completion, the texture of the sofa catching the back of your thighs as you squirm on your hand, honeying your fingertips, desperate for him to reach out and demand to suck your fingers clean, to push your legs onto his shoulders and dive face first into your slit.

“Put a finger inside yourself,” he urges, rushed and ragged. “Please,” he amends with a throaty whine.

Unable to stop yourself, not wanting to either, you obey. Sliding your middle finger lower as you keep your index finger circling your clit. The heated, soaked cling makes you hiss in surprise, so on fire for him; you hold his gaze as you push deeper, your mouth opening into a small O at the sensation.

“That's it, fuck, I bet that feels amazing,” he snaps, his tone feral, his eyes just inky pools staring you down.

“Tell me you want to fuck me…”

It takes a split second to realise it was you who said it. Unwilling to back down, meeting Anthony’s stunned, hungry expression head-on, fingers sliding fast over your clit, spiralling so close so soon to something extraordinary.

“I want to fuck you,” he enunciates slowly, dripping with intent, making a low, almost grunting noise with each pull on his delicious cock.

Your responding moan is lewd, and you are uncaring of the noise your body makes as you rapidly fuck your finger into yourself over and over, wishing it was his perfect cock that you stare at now, both openly panting.

“Don't. Fucking. Stop,” it's his turn to say it now, each word a heaved, wrecked sentence.

There is an inevitability to this moment that somehow feels fated, apt, perfect, almost. As if this is the only way the searing tension between you would ever be resolved: a literal release.

“I’m so close,” he grits out, and you nod rapidly to agree, moving your other hand to touch your clit as you now slide two fingers into yourself, rapid, deep, craving release, feeling the telltale fluttering around your fingertips.

With a brief glance up to his handsome face, you watch his plump lips moan your name, long, loud, low. His body going rigged as an arc of cum shoots out of his cock, painting a glistening line over his knuckles and the rug between his splayed feet.

The sight makes you shudder from head to toe and pushes you over the edge, your pussy trapping your fingers in a vice-like grip as your body bows, and you call his name in release, the tension snapping in what feels like every cell of your body. Unable to stop and uncaring to do so, you ride the cresting sensation for what feels like forever and no time at all. You can hear him swearing and barking filthy encouragements, but it's muffled as if through cotton wool, the rush of blood in your ears and the spots dancing before your eyes, screwed tightly shut, all you can concentrate on.

When you sag back into the sofa cushions, utterly spent, letting your fingers slip from your body, mortification starts to creep into your edges. You feel unable to meet his eyes as you primly push down your dress where it had rucked up around your hips, even as you feel your own juices smearing over your skin as you do so.

“Don’t…” it's gruff and beseeching. “Don't you dare regret this. Or feel embarrassed. That was amazing,” he exhales shakily as he rezips his fly, his raw sincerity taking you back slightly, even as you stare at the floor.

“You owe me a new rug…” It's the strangest non sequitur, but it's what your brain has decided to say in response, eyeing the mess he has left.

He barks a laugh so loud you can't help but join in.

“That I do,” he admits, slumping back and turning his head towards you, a softness in his warm brown eyes as you finally pluck up the courage to look at him again.

“I don't regret it,” you admit quietly after a brief silence. “I just can't quite believe we did it…”

“Merlot…” he offers laconically, eyeballing the empty collection of bottles on your kitchen island.

“Definitely,” you giggle.

A grin tugs at his lips. “Got any more?” he inquires.

“One more bottle,” you gesture vaguely towards the wine rack.

He gets up and saunters over, bending to pick it up as you admire the fit of his jeans around his bum. He nods at you to pick up the empty wine glasses and then walks away, gesturing for you to follow.

“Where are we going?” you frown, pushing off the sofa to catch up with him as he wanders down your hallway.

He spins to look at you with an expression so heated you stumble to a halt and almost drop the glasses.

“Don't play coy, you know where,” he rumbles and kicks open your bedroom door with a flick of his foot.

It turns out your encore performance had a different director, but after you come screaming onto his hands and face, you decide it might be worth ordering a wine subscription.

Anthony taglist: @makaylan @foreverlonginguniverse @iboopedyournose @aintnuthinbutahounddog @margofiore @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @crowleysqueenofhell @bridgertontess @queenofmean14 @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @benedictspaintbrush @sorryallonsy @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @elizah99 @fictionalmenloversblog @debheart @malpalgalz @amanda08319 @panhoeofmanyfandoms @delehosies @m-rae23 @kmc1989 @desert-fern @corpseoftrees-queen @jeanfreau @magical-spit @bunnyweasley23 @vane28282 @kisskissshutmydoor @hanji-emo-blog @y0ur-favgerman @Huffelpuffforlife @0x1harmonia0x1

#anthony bridgerton fanfiction #anthony bridgerton #anthony bridgerton smut #anthony bridgerton imagine #bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton #bridgerton smut #bridgerton imagine #anthony bridgerton x reader #anthony bridgerton x female reader #anthony bridgerton x you #anthony bridgerton x y/n #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton x female reader

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heizouz · 1 year

Text

nsfw sub!kaeya + afab!reader, date night, body worship, pretty kaeya

it's my birthday so i wrote this purely for myself

it's one of those nights.

you're dressed up; hair perfect, pretty black dress, red lip and glittery eyes. the room is warm, from the gentle fire and the dark mahogany colours and the dull orange lights. one of your hands is occupied—a crystallised wine glass filled with red placed in your left—whilst your other traces circles into the sofa chair you're sitting in.

and kaeya.

kaeya sits by your feet, clad in a chaise mauve silk shirt and soft black dress pants that trail against the floor. he's sitting so pretty, eyes dark but adoring as he looks at you. his hands splay across your thighs, your knees, your legs, trailing teasing fingers that make you shiver.

he's perfect. your perfect boy that obeys you even when you don't need to ask him.

"you're so beautiful." kaeya whispers, barely a mumble as he presses a kiss against your knee. you smile, hand carding through your hair to push it out of your face. kaeya is so zoned out—he runs his hands across your legs, up to your thighs and your waist, leaving soft kisses where he can. "so beautiful."

"thank you, my darling." you muse, a soft chuckle leaving your lips at how kaeya looks at you, treats you like his goddess.

kaeya holds your leg—the point of your heel digs into his upper thigh but he doesn't seem to mind, sending you one quick teasing glance before he leans forward and kisses up to your calf. your fingers twitch around the wine glass, itching to grab his pretty silky hair and drag him into place. but you're patient, savoring the moment of intimacy as kaeya basically worships your body from his place on his knees.

he's so pretty; his hair trailing gently down his back, slightly loose from its ponytail. his eyes are practically gleaming with adoration, watching you intently as they glaze over in his daze and some of his hair falls pretty to frame his face. he looks so soft under the dull lights, dark but gentle shadows casting across his features and your heart picks up a little because he's yours.

kaeya's lips leave hot trails across the skin of your knee before he reaches your thighs. he hesitates (you can see from the way he freezes, fingers drumming lightly against the outside of your thigh) and looks up at you as if gaging your reaction. when you do nothing but raise an eyebrow, wine glass tilting to the side along with your head, kaeya takes it as the get go to gently spread open your legs.

with a slight grin, you crumble. your fingers find kaeya's blue hair, curling into it when the man presses his lips into your inner thighs. your dress has ridden up, kaeya teasingly pushing the edges up with his fingers and a small sigh leaves your lips as kaeya's hands find home against your knees, keeping your legs parted and he nudges his face closer into you.

you watch him, dark eyed, over the top of your wine glass, nails gently brushing against his scalp. kaeya hums gently and you can feel the vibrations against your thigh, can feel his quick pants through his nose against your core and you melt into your seat a little.

"kae…" you purr, brushing strands of blue from his pretty icy eyes as he looks up at you when you address him. you stare at how he parts his lips slightly, eyes sparkling with need and the want to please you. your fingers curl, lightly pulling his head back and he gasps quietly. you lean forward in your seat a little, voice low, "don't tease."

the ghost of a smirk paints kaeya's face, all too visible under the dull flickering lights. you settle back against the chair, completely letting go of kaeya's hair and kaeya takes it as a silent nod to go ahead.

he wastes no time—he's eager. he pulls your underwear down, the material catching on your heel but kaeya is too dazed to notice, his hands instantly going to hook under your knees to pull you forward.

you gasp, shocked, but it simmers into a soft moan at the first drag of kaeya's tongue against you. your head tips back against the back of the chair, hand holding the glass falling slightly to the side and your fingers clench around it.

kaeya is gentle, slow, but you can tell he's desperate as he grips the swell of your thighs. his eyes are fluttered closed, needily running his tongue against your cunt with quiet hums.

you sigh, pleased, because it's exactly where he's supposed to be.

he opens his eyes to look up at you at the noise, gleaming and so good. he pulls away, kissing over your clit faintly before you can almost feel him grin against you.

you break out into a choked moan, having to put your drink to the side before you drop it and your hands instantly go to grab kaeya's hair when he laps at you, sucking your clit, shoving his face into your cunt with so much need.

"that's—god. that's good." your head falls back and eyes close, voice high and breathless, "that's good, baby."

kaeya keens at the praise, heart jumping at the sight of you laid back and so beautiful, breaking under his touch. he lets you wrap your fingers into his hair, lets you guide his head and keep him there all for your own pleasure because he's made to serve you.

"kae-" kaeya whimpers at the harsh tug of his hair, opting to drag his tongue against your folds, cutting you off of any of your previous thoughts. "christ, kaeya. you're so good."

your dress has ridden past your hips now, and kaeya's hands tease up to your waist before you manoeuvre yourself. one foot on the floor and your other lays over the side of the sofa arm. the position is lewd; legs spread, your hand keeping kaeya's head in place as he pleases you and the man just lets you.

"my good boy." you drawl, brushing your fingers over kaeya's cheek and he moans, pretty boy glancing up at you to watch your body react to him, chest flaring with how he drives you crazy with just his tongue.

you let out a long breath, relaxing back slightly with lidded eyes because you know you're in for a soft, slow night.

#kaeya ramble bc i love him #hes so so pretty my good boy #also i hate the ending but im tired #anyway happy birthday to me #dom reader #genshin impact #genshin smut #genshin x reader #sub genshin #genshin #kaeya smut #sub kaeya #kaeya x you #kaeya x reader

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myers-meadow · 4 months

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Palace life: A! Astarion x Tav drabble

Title: Palace life

Pairing: Ascended Astarion x Tav (unnamed)

Summary: A year after the reunion party, you've settled into life at the old Szarr palace, and into your role as the Vampire Lord's dear consort. A small vignette into my Tav's life past the game end.

Warnings: Ascended Astarion himself. Blood drinking.

Word count: 530-ish

Please be kind, this is my first attempt at writing Ascended Astarion, and perhaps even Astarion altogther. divider by @/saradika-graphics

The sunlight of the day fades, leaving the sky orange, with the deepest blue overhead. About time you return to the palace.

Astarion is waiting for you in the dining hall he favours, surrounded by corpses, two spawn and some half-dead poor sod. Hunger gnaws at you by the sight of him and those red droplets that have since dried on his skin.

"Love, there you are," Astarion coos. His spawn eye him, weary at his honey-sweet tone. "You've been out for a while, haven't you?"

There's a hint of something underneath his sweet tone, but you don't mind it. He's still your love, your world. He pats the chaise lounge he's sitting on and you sit down next to him. With a soft smile, you reach out to play with his curls.

"I was soaking in the sun. It feels like the warmth is still there."

He eyes you lazily, like a cat, taking in all of you, every detail of your appearance. "Will you go out again tomorrow? I'll join you." He leans up to drape himself over you, sitting in your lap sideways. "I've been inside for too long these past few weeks." His arms come to rest around your neck, pulling you in for a kiss. "You're still warm from the sun, too. Gods, you gorgeous thing... Have I missed anything while you were out?"

"The sunset was breathtaking..." You reply, the softness of his curls underneath your fingers soothing you. "I fed some stray cats, you know I just can't resist." You take a breath to steel yourself. "And I ran into Karlach and Wyll. They're back for a visit to the city."

"Ah. Are they still hunting the demons of Avernus?" His laugh is all teeth, and little joy. Karlach's words after his ascension play in your head. It seems he's not let go of them entirely either.

"It's been a year since the reunion party," You shift on the sofa, settling under Astarion's weight more comfortably, "it's making me nostalgic. I'd love to see everyone again."

Astarion scoffs. "Sure, let them come here this time. Let them see us."

You smile softly, leaning into his body, head on his shoulder. You fit against him just so perfectly.

His sharp nail caresses your cheek. "You must be hungry, pet. I saved you some." He leans down and grabs the barely conscious man by his feet by the neck, presenting him to you. "Have a drink. Indulge."

You'll never disobey him, you thought to yourself, as you finally sate that painful hunger. It'll return, all too soon, as you wipe your mouth, leaning back, tipping your head back, and laughing. The delirium of blood settles, making you giddy. Astarion settles over you, moving himself to your lap fully, you look at him, lazy and full.

"You look so good like this, darling," his eyes are similarly heavy-lidded. "Would you mind if I have a last taste of the man?" And he leans down for a deep, wet kiss, not waiting for an answer. From the corner of your eye, his spawn look on, with something akin to jealousy brewing in their gaze.

#ascended astarion x tav #ascended astarion #astarion x tav #baldurs gate 3 #astarion ancunin #bg3 astarion #astarion bg3 #baldurs gate astarion #meadow's writing #bg3 #astarion #astarion fanfic #ascended astarion fanfic

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hometoursandotherstuff · 5 months

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Beautiful 1959 home in Las Vegas, NV. 4bds, 2ba, $1.599M.

Attractive entrance with terrazzo floors.

Step-down to the sunken living room.

Wood ceilings and they've already wallpapered all of this, which isn't too much, it's tasteful.

And, this long feature wall is white brick.

Love the marble fireplace. As they usually are, this mid-century-modern is open and spacious.

Spacious dining room with a red insert in the ceiling. It's always the details that make a home. Straight, boxy rooms are so boring.

Love the red floor and don't even mind the popcorn ceiling. Next to the dining room is another sitting area that is like a family room.

The everyday dining area.

The kitchen has a recessed bar. And look at the Sputnik light.

The owners chose to set up the closet/dressing room with chaises.

And, the primary is large enough to easily accommodate 2 queen size beds.

It has a nicely updated en-suite that seamlessly matches the rest of the house.

The home office.

And, this is the very large 2nd bath.

Bedroom #2 is a good size and has sliding doors to the patio.

Bedroom #3 has room enough for a sofa. All the bedrooms are very large.

This is a beautiful bath. Funny, the description says 2 baths, but this is a 3rd.

There's a cute little garden out here that goes right thru the roof.

The small .7 acre lot has a lovely pool in the back of the home, plus a covered patio.

https://avidangoor.elliman.com/sales/detail/727-l-831-121_2576690/1925-silver-avenue-rancho-oakey-las-vegas-nv-89102#

#desert homes #mid century modern homes #mcm architecture #houses #house tours #home tour

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gabessquishytum · 10 months

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Human au with stage actor!dream and tech!hob. They're doing a who-dun-it play were Dream's part is the playboy who probably gets murdered 3rd. There's one scene where he exits stage left and comes back with kiss marks all over his lips/face/neck. And usually they have a stamp for this. But of course the show must go wrong and the stamp goes missing. Hob has just enough time to put the lipstick on himself, grab dream, and plant kisses all over his visible skin. Dream is a professional so he will keep on with the performance but once hes "dead" hes pinning hob to the couch in the green room and returning the favor.

💳 anon (sorry i am v sick)

This is the CUTEST THING omg. I hope you're feeling a bit better friend, pls know that i am hugging you <3

Honestly Hob was PANICKING in the wings looking for that stupid kiss stamp!! But he also knew that he was running out of time, so he made a mad dash for the nearest dressing room, smothered his mouth in red lipstick (it might have been greasepaint in hindsight, he wasn't looking too hard) and ran back to be ready for Dream.

He fervently apologises after each and every kiss as Dream stands in the circle of his arms, shocked into stillness. His cheeks flush and burn and he squeaks when Hob finally kisses the edge of his mouth (still apologising right up against Dream’s skin). It's a miracle that he remembers a single one of his lines, and he's never been so glad to "die" at the end of act 1 in his entire life.

Hob is still there in the wings, wringing his hands and still apologising. Dream makes an executive decision, and kisses him into silence. Hob finally shuts up and transfers the remaining lipstick onto Dream’s mouth.

They make use of the old chaise lounge in the prop room, aaaand the sofa in Dream’s dressing room.... Hob should absolutely still be working but Dream keeps dragging him into dark corners to make out. And finally (once Dream has gone out to take his bow at the very end, still covered in kiss marks) Hob gets to be the one to drag Dream into the space under the stage, where he drops to his knees and smears the last residue of the red lipstick onto Dream’s cock.

The kiss stamp isn't used for the rest of the play's run <3

#the sandman #dreamling #nsft

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ink-and-blood-goddess · 14 days

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Drifting Away (Jan Valek x Female Reader)

Summary: After enduring a terrifying nightmare, you have trouble falling asleep. Then your vampire lover comes to comfort you.

A/N-Yay my first Valek fanfic :D. Valek has been giving me absolute brain rot after I watched the film seven times now (five when it was on Netflix this past year). I really went into writing this and love how it came out when I just finished it. I can’t wait to write more fanfics of this deadly and beautiful vampire.

Please enjoy ;)

Warnings: Mentions of death, nightmares, smidge of angst, and tons of tooth-rotting fluff in the end

Citrus Scale:🍎

W.C+: 1.9K

Taglist-@larabiatasstuff @fangirlstorycreator @virgo-mess @terrence-silver

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You had trouble sleeping again. It was the same thing night after night. They came back each time as always. The nightmares. Tossing and turning in the bed, as the sheets twisted around your body.

The nightmares kept you from waking up. Preventing you from breaking the spell they put you under. You couldn’t move at all. Every part of your body was frozen. You moaned at each toss and turn. Your white nightgown sticking to you.

It was the same nightmare. You didn’t know how and why they started. They were always the same one. Coming after you in your dreams each night.

Dark shadows of figures surrounding you in a circle. They wore all black robes, covering everything except their faces. Pale white faces that were paler than the moon. Their ruby red eyes burning as they looked down upon you.

Each one of them towered over your body. You couldn’t move at all. It felt like you were chained down against your will. Their faces showed no expression. They all had the same face. Looking at their red eyes one by one, they didn’t seem right. They were filled with anger or a rage of some sort.

But it wasn’t rage at all. It was hunger. Hunger burned in their eyes. Burning a hot red glow down upon you. Fear filled your entire body.

All of a sudden, their mouths began to open. Long, sharp fangs extending from the tops of their mouths. White and clean soon to be stained with blood. You opened your mouth to scream, but nothing came out.

Paralyzed with nothing but fear and no word to be spoken, you were trapped. Your heart raced uncontrollably. Flooding your ears with a painful noise.

Then one by one, the figures snarled and leaped at you. Their paled claw like hands grabbing you. Engulfing you in darkness and draining the life out of you. Everything was black now. Soon after came the screams. Loud and echoing through the darkness.

The screams were yours. The nightmare was taking hold of you. Swallowing you deeper and deeper into its cruel world. No way to escape from it. Until everything stopped.

“NO!” You screamed as you finally awoke. Breaking the spell the nightmare had you under. Your chest heaving with heavy, deep breaths. Gasping for air. Refilling your burning lungs. Every part of your body was cold and shaking.

Heart racing rapidly. Beating against your breasts. An awful thought ran across your mind. Quickly, your hand went up to your neck. Relief washed over you soon after. There was nothing left there. No bite marks. It wasn’t real. None of it.

Everything was the same in your room. Your Antoinette dressing table sitting across the room from your canopy bed. The lavender silk robe, hanging on the edge of the chair. Several bookcases that resided on the right side, filled to the brim with vintage and ancient books that seemed lost to time. The vintage chaise lounge sofa sat in the other corner of the room. The book you were reading was still sitting upon the cushions. And then the balcony. Both doors were opened wide., letting in the late night air in. The sheer pearl curtains dancing and twirling in the soft breeze. Moonlight pouring in, making the room glow a bit.

Nothing has changed. Not one bit of the room has changed. Your heartbeat softly slowed down. Beating at a normal pace again. You sat up and peeled the bed sheets off your lower body. You then swung your legs over and hung them off the edge of the bed frame.

Sweat beaded down your forehead. Covering your face with both hands, you slowly breathed in and out with deep breaths. It felt like the whole room was spinning around, making you feel sick from all the dizziness. Everything was making you feel sick.

Taking one last deep breath, you moved your hands from your face and into your hair. Combing your fingers through the (H/L) (H/C) strands. It felt hot and stuffy for you. You needed to get some fresh air and clear your mind.

Slowly you placed your feet onto the weaved rug and stood up. Raising both arms above, you stretch out your tired limbs and began to walk towards the balcony. Your feet padded against the cold, smooth stone of the tower. Leaving little echoes behind.

Once you stepped outside, the nighttime air greeted you with a gentle breeze. Cooling your face down, making you feel calm and collected now. Your nightgown skirt billowing and swirling around against your bare legs. It smelled sweet and fresh. Fully surrounded by forest and mountains. Nothing but peace and beauty at night.

The moon hung above in the inky bluish black sky, looking down at you. Brightly glowing with a gentle white light beaming everywhere. The stars twinkled and sparkling like little silver diamonds against the night sky. Feeling so surreal looking at this. You were very much used to it.

Resting your arms on the stone railing, you looked down from the tower’s balcony. The sound of the leaves and branches from the trees blowing in the breeze sounded like music to you. Gently creating soft sounds as it passed through each one.

Off in the distance, a wolf howled. Its howl echoing in the mountain’s valley. Calling out towards the moon above. The creature’s howl singing alongside the wind. A chorus of beautiful midnight music.

As you took in the nighttime spectacle of song, a wave of emotions suddenly came over you. Tears pricked at the corner of your eyes and spilled down. Streaming down your face like a never ending waterfall. A soft sob escaped your lips.

The nightmares you’ve been having were taking hold of you whenever you were awake. Not letting go of your fragile mind. The dark figures haunting you, even with your eyes opened. Their claws ripping into you, with their sharp fangs tearing into your warm flesh.

Reliving your own death over and over night after night. It’s like you couldn’t escape from them at all. They’ll just continue with no end. Nothing will ever stop them.

“My love, are you alright?” Came a familiar from behind you. Quickly, you turned around to see it was your vampire lover Jan Valek. Standing in the door frame of the balcony, with a worried look on his face.

“Oh it’s you Valek,” you said in a soft sharp tone. “I couldn’t sleep. So I came out to get some fresh air,” you lied. You quickly turned back away from him. Using your thumb, you wiped away the tears before he sees them.

Continuing to look at the nighttime landscape, you felt him loom over you like a great shadow. “No. Something is troubling you my love.” He said in a hurt tone. “It’s nothing really Valek. Don’t worry about me,” you said, with your voice almost breaking.

Then you felt something icy and light, softly grip your chin. Realizing Valek placed his fingers under your chin, you slowly lifted your head up and looked at him with (E/C) eyes stained with tears.

“Oh my poor little robin. What has made you upset?” His voice sounded sorrowful the moment he saw your face. You let out a heavy sigh. “They did.” You said softly. “They who my dear?” he asked in return. “The nightmares.” Valek arched an eyebrow.

“I’ve been having trouble sleeping for a while. I thought it was nothing at first, but I was wrong. They were always the same one night after night.” You said in a soft tone.

“What were they about?” He whispered softly. Your heart skipped a beat from that question. “There were these pale faced figures, all cloaked in black. All of them circled around me. Trapping me with no way out. They were all staring at me with hungry red eyes. I couldn’t move or say anything. Fear had paralyzed my whole body. Their mouths opened, revealing sharp, cruel fangs. Then one by one, they attacked me. Lunging forward at my fear stricken body, covering me in total darkness. Biting and tearing into my flesh. Then it just stops and I wake up screaming.” You felt a heavy presence hovering above you now. Feeling the air change and shift.

“Oh (Y/N). Why didn’t you tell me,” he sounded hurt and wounded.

“I didn’t want you to worry Valek,” you softly sobbed, turning away from him. Wanting to spare him of your tear stained face. “I didn’t want to burden you with my own demons. I didn’t hurt you in any way.” Breaking into a full sob. Everything felt like it was crashing down upon you. You never wanted your lover to see you all vulnerable and troubled by anything you were dealing with.

All of a sudden, you felt Valek wrap his arms around you. Nearly engulfing you with his towering form. “I forgive you my love,” he whispered softly in your ear. “Oh Valek!” You sobbed out, burying your face into his chest.

Valek ran his hand through your hair. Soothing and calming you in a way. His long, slender fingers tangled in the (H/L) (H/C) strands. “I do not blame you for anything (Y/N). You wanted to spare my feelings from what you’re dealing with. I will never let anything or anyone hurt my little robin.” He said, bending down and placed a kiss upon your head.

You slowly lifted your head up again to look at your lover. His diamond colored eyes sparkling inside the moon’s light. A warm and beautiful smile spread across his face. Reassuring you you’re safe with him.

“Come my little robin,” he said with a gleeful tone, “let’s return you to bed.” He then bent down and slowly picked you up bridal style. You felt being lifted into thin air the moment your feet left the ground.

Valek glided with you cradled in his arms back into the bedroom. With a swift movement, he placed you onto the mattress and pulled the sheets over your now tired body. Tucking you like a mother would do with her child.

“Now my little robin,” Valek cooed softly, while he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, “close your eyes and dream of something sweet and beautiful.” Cupping your face with his hand.

“But Valek. What if the nightmares come back again,” you said with a worried voice. He softly shushed you with a finger to his lips. “I will stay with you while you slumber away. You have my word.” Placing his hand over his chest.

With a soft and swift motion, Valek climbed onto the bed and laid next to you. You turned over to look at him one more time before falling asleep.

“What do I dream of my love? I have nothing to dream about,” you said with a pain in your voice. “Anything. Anything you could think of. Any moment that was special to you in any way.” His voice started to fade away.

Slowly your eyes began to close as Valek continued to talk to you softly. Reassuring you he’ll keep you safe, while you sleep peacefully. “Dream peacefully my love. I’ll be here for you,” he said as he placed a kiss upon your forehead.

As you finally fallen asleep, you began to dream about the first time you met Valek.

#jan valek #jan valek x reader #jan valek x you #jan valek x y/n #jan valek x female reader #thomas ian griffith #john carpenter's vampires #character x reader #fanfiction #fanfic #x reader fanfiction #x reader fanfic #x reader #jan valek fanfiction #jan valek fanfic

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aldryrththerainbowheart · 2 years

Text

Drunk

Fandom: Castlevania

Characters: Adrian Fahrenheit Tepes/Alucard

Relationships: Adrian x reader

Note: I suck at titles

You walked through the dark hallway in hopes of finding your room. Even after months spent in Castlevania, you still couldn’t navigate through endless corridors even to your own space. You were confident you had walked through this particular hall three times now. Just when you were about to turn left, you heard a faint noise. You keened your ears to decipher the sound and concluded it must be someone's voice. There was only one person other than you who lived in the castle. You pushed the ornate doors to one of the drawing rooms ajar and found Adrian reclining in one of the lounge chairs.

He looked like he was posing for a painting, but then again, he always did. You knew Adrian was something more than a human but these small things which it showed, such as being in a state of constant elegance and poise, no matter the situation, still amazed you. He was lying on the comforter with his torso slightly turned to the back of the chair. One of his legs was stretched over the edge while the other one was bent at the knee. His right arm was hanging off the armrest while the other was holding an empty wineglass precariously perched between elegant fingers. How he didn’t splatter the red liquid on the pristine white shirt, which was unbuttoned to reveal almost the entirety of his chest, was a mystery to you. His head was buried in several pillows and golden tresses fell loosely down the chaise and around his face. He had a faraway look in his eyes and was mumbling something incoherently. When you stepped closer and had a chance to decipher his mumblings, you realized he wasn’t talking to himself, he was singing. Poorly.

“…and the fish’s at the sea…they sway by me…” or whatever gibberish you were able to discern. Probably some tavern song he learned from Trevor. That moment he noticed you standing there, golden eyes squinting at you.

“Oh…hello-” A small hiccup found its way past his lips.

You were trying your best not to laugh but your mouth still twisted into a smile as you watched him cover his mouth in embarrassment.

“Pardon me. I think I’ve had too much to drink.” He sat up, or rather, tried to sit up as he swung his legs over the sofa. You attempted to help him, pressing your arm at his back. “Are you alright?” You tentatively asked him. You didn’t know what his life was like before you came in. He wasn’t willing to share many details about his past, but from the small pieces of information, you concluded he was living a very sad, lonely life. That sometimes resulted in evenings spent drinking away his sorrows.

He shooed your hands away. “Nothing is wrong. I’m a vampire, so I am particularly able to hic keep my countenance in place.”

At that time you were fully grinning at his efforts to remain decent in his drunken stupor. Of course. You thought to yourself while you watched him fix his collar as if to add modesty to the already gaping hole in his shirt. There, you could see the pink sliver of scar that ran across his entire torso, marring the otherwise flawless pale skin. What sort of fierce battle the powerful dhampir face to mark him in such way. Every time you caught sight of that scar, your heart clenched painfully at the thought of Adrian in pain. He snapped you out of your thoughts with his drunken ramblings.

hic “You astound me, did you know that?” He said out of the blue and you were staring at him in surprise. He continued, “You are hic …most incredible person I’ve ever met in my life.” He looked you in the face a desperate look in his eyes as if he needed you to understand his statement more than he needed his next breath. “I mean that I mean it,” he softly whispered. “You are unlike anyone that I’ve ever met in my life, he put his hand on your cheek, studying your features.

“I…expose myself… to you.” You looked at his opened shirt in panic. The last thing you need is to have the dhampir deep in his cups to start undressing in front of you.

Adrian noticed your frightened expression and realized he was misunderstood. With laughter, he added, “no, not like that. I mean emotionally,” he grabbed one of your hands and placed it on his chest, right above his heart. It seems alcohol also made him sentimental. “I bare my soul and you don’t run away. I‘m a vampire lord’s son, THE vampire lord’s son…and you’re not afraid of me…and we can go on walks…and talk…and…and…I’ve just never met anyone like you…” his words dissipated into silence.

hic

Oh, Adrian.

All this time you had no idea he harbored such thoughts in his mind. You had a feeling he was being courteous to you by letting you stay in his castle, but not overly caring for your presence. If you knew what these brief encounters you two shared meant to him…

“I’m rambling a little bit,” Adrian bowed his head in shame and dropped his hand from your cheek to cover his face with it.

“I’m ashamed that you’re seeing me…like this,” he gestured to his disheveled appearance.

You patted his arm with placating smile, “It’s alright Adrian, sometimes we all have our bad days.” Then, you draped one of his arms over your shoulders and took hold of his waist.

Some light stumbling, a few knocked candelabras, and plenty of hauling on your part later, you made it to his bed-chamber. Where was the floating when you need one? You let out a huff as you threw Adrian’s limp body on the bed and almost fell on top of him in the process. The close physical proximity the two of you shared when walking into his room was already enough to paint your cheeks a rosy hue. You threw a blanket over him and prepared to leave when you felt a hand grabbing your wrist. The dhampir was looking soberer now. Still holding your arm, he brought you closer to bed.

He propped himself on his elbows and looked into your eyes with more clarity than before, “I likely won’t remember any of this in the morning…but…,” he paused for a moment as if gathering the courage to finish the sentence.

“I…can I…kiss you? Just one time…”

You were taken aback by his words once more. He practically confessed to you earlier, and the thought of touching those soft, plush lips sounded tempting. You didn’t realize that you’d been inching closer to his face until you felt his wine-laced breath on your lips and by then, you were too lost in his eyes to pull away.

He tasted like the sweetest of vines. Soft and supple, his mouth danced hesitantly over yours. You were sure that no vinery in the world has vine more rare and luxurious than the one you’re tasting on his tongue. You pulled away and whispered to him “goodnight Adrian.”

He mumbled goodnight to you as well and fell asleep mid-sentence.

You chuckled to yourself, caressing his cheek. *Creatures of the night, what symphony they make…*you pondered as you listened to his soft snores.

#castlevania alucard #castlevania cartoon #castlevania #alucard x reader #alucard #adrian tepes x reader #adrian fahrenheit tepes #adrian tepes #drunk Adrian is funny and cute alright

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anastasiaskarsgard · 4 months

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Could you do a one shot where the reader tries to rob the marquis de gramont’s house only for that to go wrong and now the reader is being interrogated.

You woke to a shrill bell, in a room you didn’t remember. Trying to get your bearings, you came to the realization that you had no memory of this place, and you were only wearing a pair of panties.

A screaming headache hit you as hard as the fact that they weren’t even your panties. Plum purple panties, with intricate lace and embroidered roses, looked far more delicate than anything you’d ever buy.

Scanning what you could see of the dimly lit room you were in, it became painfully obvious it was some sort of cell by the metal door and lack of any windows. The only piece of furniture, was a surprisingly ornate velvet chaise you were presently handcuffed to.

Frantically trying to recall how you ended up topless, in someone else’s underwear, in a dimly lit prison cell with no windows, you felt a panic attack swiftly approaching when you found no answers.

The last thing you could recall, was telling your twin sister you’d meet her in your shared suite, as soon as you swam a few more laps. You were in Paris for fashion week in a few days, and were very sought after by all the designers. Your sister ate a very strict restricted diet, while you were a bit more lax and liked food. Unfortunately that meant you had to work out to make up for the extra calories. You actually somewhat enjoyed exercise, and staying active, while your sister hated it. Still, you were amazed at your sisters restraint when it came to food. She never ate any carbs, any sugar, any processed foods, any refined grains, and even refused starchy vegetables and high sugar fruits. She also only ever drank water. Ever.

Maybe that was how you ended up here. Now that you were thinking about it, you had accepted a Mimosa from a fellow guest, but it’d been brought to you by a waitress and you hadn’t even finished it.

You hadn’t sensed any danger or nefarious intentions towards yourself or your sister, and had been recommended the resort by several fellow models and colleagues. You hoped your sister was at least okay.

Suddenly, the door swung open to reveal a tall well dressed man, glowering down at you.

Never one to be intimidated, even with the obvious enormous vulnerabilities you currently had, and no plan whatsoever, you were not about to be polite.

“Who the FUCK are you motherfucker, and WHERE ARE MY FUCKING CLOTHES?” You shouted towards the end. “And what the fuck is this shit?” You asked as you pointed to your wrist, cuffed to the sofa. “This is coming off RIGHT NOW and I’m leaving!”

The man stood there with the same rude facial expression, not responding or reacting to anything you said. Breathing hard, you watched and listened for a few seconds, before closing your eyes, and screaming at the top of your lungs, for as long as your lungs would allow.

Taking a deep breath, preparing to unleash another one, you peeked at your captor and froze your breath to see he was smiling at you. Fucking smiling!

You saw red. “What ARE YOU SMILING ABOUT? Come over here and I’ll give you something to smile about you fucking nut!” You shrieked.

“Sssshhhh!” He placed a finger on his full lips, shooshing you. “How will you know how to win the game, unless you listen to the rules?”

That was it. You were at a whole new level of pissed. You were so angry at the mere suggestion of this fucked up situation, being some weird game, it didn’t even occur to you, that you should probably be frightened. Maybe even terrified, but all you knew was you were going to kick this guys Ass. “Let. Me. Go. Now.”

“What? So you can sneak out again like you did last night? And after I had forgiven you for leaving the party and going through my personal things?” He shook his head amusedly. “You are going to tell me, exactly who hired you, and maybe I won’t kill you.”

Well shit.

Last night your sister had said she was going to bed early and you’d gone out and met up with friends. Could she have gone out after you left and tried to rob this hot guy? Didn’t sound possible, but here you are in a dungeon or something.

“Well? How hard do you want this to be?” He snapped.

“Okay hear me out. I’m a twin and I never went to anyone’s house yesterday so you must be looking for my sister. This really doesn’t sound like her type of deal but I’m always telling her she needs to go out and live a little.” Suddenly feeling overwhelmed, you laid back on the chaise and shut your eyes. “We are successful models here for fashion week, so I seriously doubt she was trying to jack you. She never steals anything so maybe she was just being nosy.”

Several minutes passed before you heard the man approach you and undo your handcuffed wrist. You opened your eyes to look at him and were stunned with how beautiful this man was. He glanced down at you, before standing to his full height and walking out of the room.

Jumping up, you quickly checked to see if the door was unlocked. Unsurprised that it was, you started to pace back and forth.

“CAN I AT LEAST HAVE SOME CLOTHES??!!?” You shouted.

Fully expecting to be ignored, you were surprised when the door swung open to reveal a woman holding out a couture looking dress on a hanger, “put this on. The Marquis wishes for you to join him for brunch.”

Nodding dumbly, you took the dress, and slipped it over your head, all the while sizing up this woman for escape. While she looked fit, she was considerably smaller than you, and you were certain you could take her.

Just as you were about to attack her, the door opened again, revealing two huge security personnel.

There goes that plan. You thought to yourself.

One of the men placed heels down on the floor in front of you. You’d never seen them before, but they fit, so you weren’t complaining.

Silently following after the woman, tailed by the two men, you couldn’t help but gape at your surroundings. While you imagined the place with a dungeon, must be fancy, you weren’t prepared for the level of opulence, and immense size of wherever this was.

Artwork that you’d studied in college, hung on the walls, and furniture you only saw in museums and magazines, surrounded you.

After walking for several minutes, you came to a dining area set in a sunroom. On the table was several breakfast and fruit options, and your stomach rumbled at the sight.

“Sit down. The Marquis will join you shortly. Do not try to escape, your guard detail is just outside the door, and it’s better not to upset my master.” The woman stated in a clipped tone, before exiting the room.

Taking a seat, you scanned around the room to see if any of the windows appeared to open. Deciding they likely did not, and even if they did, the wall surrounding the property, was so far away, you could barely even see it. This seemed like the type of place that had big scary Dobermans or something.

Turning your attention to the food, you sniffed it trying to determine if it was poisoned. Realizing you had no idea how to determine if something has been poisoned, you just picked up a piece of melon, and nibbled on it.

“Isn’t it rude to eat before everyone has arrived?” The Marquis asked as he walked in the room.

“Not as rude as handcuffing a woman to a chair in your dungeon in someone else’s underpants,” you replied cheekily.

Smirking and looking down, he nodded his head a bit before taking a seat. Turning his striking green eyes to you, he took in your appearance very deliberately. “I checked and you are in fact a twin.”

“Ding ding ding! Get this man a prize!”

The Marquis genuinely laughed, before leaning forward and pursing his plush lips. “How well do you know your sister? Are you two close?”

You picked up another piece of fruit and took a bite, maintaining eye contact with the man across from you. You weren’t sure where he was going with this, but you couldn’t see any harm answering questions, that a quick scan of your social media accounts would reveal the answers to.

“She’s the strait laced, conservative, boring version of me, with the self control of a monk, is what I would have said if you asked me yesterday. Today… I am torn between being mad at her, and proud of her.”

“Why proud?”

“Because look at you! Look at this place! You’ve even got some snobby title to boot, and she bagged you. Then she ghosted you, and obviously hurt your ego. She’s never this exciting.” You answered honestly.

“You find this behavior exciting? Flirting with a man, only to look through his belongings while he showers, and exit before he returns? This is acceptable behavior?” He asked indignantly.

Inwardly you were screaming. Your sister NEVER had one night stands. You have had a few and every time she gave you so much shit over it. Going so far as to tell friends and family about them, in an effort to shame you or something. It never worked, but it was irritating that she tried, and come to find out she was doing it too! You absolutely were going to give her an earful.

“Listen buddy, I’m honestly sorry that she did this to you. You’re obviously not used to rejection, and judging by how rich and important you must be, I can see where her looking through your stuff seems nefarious, but I guarantee you, no one hired her. She probably was just kinda tripping that she just had sex with some random gorgeous French guy and was curious, or she hella thought a guy like you must have a girlfriend so she was looking for clues. Now either she found some female items in your stuff and decided to leave, or she was just embarrassed about being a hoe bag, when she’s normally the biggest prude in America.” You leaned across the table and grabbed a pastry, “you’re not going to eat?”

He frowned at you, looking as though he was going to deny you, but seemed to change his mind and grabbed a few raspberries. Popping them in his mouth, he stared off in the distance contemplating something. “We did not sleep together. I had to take a shower because a drunken idiot, knocked an entire tray of desserts into me.”

“Why was she in your room?”

“She came here with an associate of mine, but it was clear from when they arrived, she was not interested in him romantically. He became belligerent, ordering her to leave and calling her all sorts of names. I personally don’t like that sort of behavior, so I had him removed. I approached your sister to offer her a car to take her home, but somehow we ended up talking most of the night. Then the drunken idiot incident happened, and she didn’t want to be left alone with a bunch of strangers, so she asked if she could accompany me. I honestly thought she was going to attempt to seduce me, but no such luck. She just sat down in the receiving area of my personal living quarters. I actually didn’t even take very long, but when I came out she was gone. I assumed she went back to the party, but was informed by my personal security, she’d left out a side door into the night. They were able to track her back to your hotel, where I had them pick her up, but I suppose grabbed you. You see, I have some very dangerous enemies that use various tactics to get to me, and I thought your sister was sent to infiltrate my space and possibly take something, or leave some type of device. I enjoyed her company, so I may have overreacted and automatically assumed the worst in her, when maybe I just live in a world that has made me paranoid and cruel.”

“Wow.” You stated. “That’s a lot to unpack. Rich people problems I guess. You don’t seem like too bad of a guy, now that I’m wearing clothes and not in a dungeon. Fucking bat shit crazy response to a chick just trying to leave tho. Especially the somebody else’s underwear part. That was terrifying.”

He cocked his eyebrow and smirked cockily. “I’m how do you say… strategic. I apologize, and hope you can forgive me. I have a driver at the ready to take you wherever you need to go, and will remain available to you for your entire stay. I also insist you and your sister go on an all expense paid shopping spree, to wherever you like as an apology for how we became acquainted.”

“What if I said I want you to drive me around?” You asked playfully. You couldn’t believe you were seriously flirting with this guy, but he was too interesting to just leave behind. You knew he was only offering the driver and shopping spree to persuade you not to report him to the authorities. You were pretty sure, that even if you did report him, nothing would come from it. He was the kind of rich that was above the law. You didn’t know what a Marquis was, but it likely meant he was a respected member of society, and nobody would believe some random American model saying she got kidnapped by him. He probably had thousands of women willing to give a kidney to go on a date with him. He was likely on some European eligible bachelor list or stalked by the paparazzi everywhere he went. You really wished you had your phone to google him.

“You are being serious?” He asked incredulously.

You were a bit offended he seemed so shocked by the suggestion. Was it that he didn’t drive that made your request so unbelievable, or was it the prospect of spending time with you? Crossing your arms, you stared back at him expectantly.

Scoffing, he rose from his seat and began to pace back and forth across the room, periodically glancing your way, never breaking stride.

He finally came to a stop when the woman from before entered the room and approached him. Speaking to her in a low tone that you couldn’t quite make out, she looked over at you with a surprised look on her face, before bowing to the Marquis, and rushing out of the room.

Still waiting for an answer to your question, you kept your arms crossed and stared straight ahead, even when he walked up next to you.

He lightly chuckled, and combed his fingers through your hair affectionately. “Your mood swings are so extreme. It’s a good thing you are so beautiful, or you might be considered a brat.”

Snapping your head to look up at him, you stuck your tongue out at him, and had to really focus not to bust out laughing at the expression that appeared on his face.

What did you have to lose at this point? “No one has ever stuck their tongue out at you, have they?” You inquired, with a snarky grin plastered across your face.

He scoffed and turned his nose up at you, so you took the oppurtunity to stand up and start walking towards the exit. “Let’s get a move on your majesty. I’m probably already late, and not showing up will cost me a small fortune. I’m under contract.”

“I have too many obligations. I cannot cancel everything to be your personal chauffeur.”

Stopping dead in your tracks, you turned around slowly, and placed your hands on your hips. Do you really think you can kidnap an international model, and then just say oopsie and send her off with a random driver? Don’t answer that, I won’t like your answer. I don’t care if you’re the king of France, you have to give me a day to make this up to me. Understood?” You dropped your hands, and marched up to the impeccably dressed man, never breaking eye contact.

Stopping just centimeters from his face, you had to hand it to him; he never flinched. But if he thought you were gonna back down, he had another thing coming. Over your dead body.

Ever so slowly, he kissed each cheek with a lingering kiss on each. “Au revoir, une fille.”

Before he could back away, you grabbed his face and kissed him square on his lips, pressing your body against his.

Meanwhile in the security room:

the security on duty, several other security personnel, and the servants were watching this crazy girl interact with one of the scariest men in Europe.

“Do you think she could possibly be so stupid?” One of the security guards asked to no one in particular.

“She is an American.” Another replied.

“And a model.” One of the maids added.

“Why hasn’t he killed her? He’s never so patient with anyone. And the way she takes such liberties with his person. It’s unimaginable!” The valet that would be driving this girl if she survived long enough asked.

“I saw him with the sister last night as well and he was absolutely enthralled with her. I’ve never seen him speak to a woman so long. He likely wishes to get to her, and will use her to get the other.”

“I don’t envy them. It’s never a happy ending when the Marquis takes a personal interest in you.” The head of security stated.

“Maybe he will fall for her…”

The entire room broke out in an uproar of laughter. Wiping tears from his eyes, a huge burly bodyguard lumbered out of the room, making his way to find his boss. Maybe if he convinced her to leave, his boss wouldn’t kill her.

Knocking at the door, just in case their activities had progressed, he waited several minutes for a response but none came. Turning to go back to the security room, and enjoy the show that was likely taking place on the other side of those doors, he froze at the sound of them bursting open.

“The entire day is just not possible. The best I can do is the morning.” The Marquis said as he followed the bossy American.

“Guess I’ll just have to kidnap you then. Which way to your cars?” She asked, still walking down the hall like she knew where she was going.

“I’ll have one brought around.”

“No I want to pick which one. Lead the way your majesty!”

Every employee watching, could not believe their eyes when the Marquis de Gramont, did just that.

#bill skarsgard #bill skarsgård #marquis de gramont #the marquis #marquis vincent de gramont #Marquis #John wick 4 #my writing

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tiramisusbakery · 5 months

Text

The Auction pt. 1

Summary: Hidden Inventory Gojo and Geto play sorcerer save-a-ho {lol} a little too close to the sun and end up as love rivals to a girl from the Red Light. Leaving their little world of sorcery in the mountains, they sneak out to Tokyo, a city budding with a new thing called...quirks?

(no MHA characters btw just a slight universe clash)

So...the quirk thing is weird, but they're not asking questions, as long as they get in the club. Taking a dip into underworld affairs to test their luck, they are forced into a world of glitz, glam, and organized crime, sacrificing much more than money (but still a lot of fuckin money) to save the object of their affection from dire circumstances and win her love. MINORS DNI

#BLACKOC #jjk #Gojosatoru #Gojo #GetoSuguru #Geto #NSFW #MHAOC

Warnings: NSFW, Teens in adult situations (what else is new in jjk tbh), violence, cursing, underage alcohol consumption

OPTIONAL READ: Lore Recap for the world surrounding this fic; What started as a fun rebellious game of sneaking out from Jujutsu High to party (Gojo) and trying to do damage control as a result, only to get mixed up in the same world himself (Geto) turns into a sex addiction, a secret love affair, and a complicated set of Red Light District politics for our boys. On a night out meeting his favorite call girl, Tira, Gojo finds himself intrigued instead by her mentee, Angie, a mysterious escort with enormous wings (and something called a quirk?) Geto, looking for Gojo, found Angie first and shared a short...yet intimate...exchange with her before she sends him on his way back to JJH. Afterward, she shares a passionate night with her sensei and Geto's best friend, Gojo. Her first night as a fully fledged escort is a success! Yet, little does she know, she has become the object of the affection of the two strongest sorcerers alive.

Enjoy~

"I think i'm in love" Angie whispered aloud, more to herself than Tira, her sensei, who sat across from her at the bright makeup table.

Tira flinched, missing her nail, and sticky bright- red polish from the set she'd been working on dribbled down her index finger, dolloping onto the glossy vanity instead.

"Oh, hun."

"Why do you sound like I just told you my nana died?" Angie blinked at her from the chaise sofa that she had strewn herself across since returning from the meet and greet.

Tira heaved a sigh, throwing her head back and letting her hair tumble down her shoulders to dust the floorboards. She met the girl's wide-eyed stare through heavy lids.

"She might as well have, babes. Please don't take this the wrong way, but you need to prioritize."

Angie avoided her gaze, and Tira felt an uncomfortable twinge in her chest for all of a second. She had a feeling she knew who it was, but what if…?

"Okay, i'll bite. Who are you in love with?"

The younger woman puffed her cheeks, prodding her pointer fingers together in quiet apprehension. "Suguru"

Tira straightened, attending to her drying manicure as if the twinge had never occured. She tried to remain neutral as she thanked her lucky stars.

"Mhmmm, Suguru." She hummed. "You mean the hot best friend of heartthrob Gojo Satoru, whom you fucked last week?"

Angie waited a beat before nodding. Tira didn't even wait to meet her eyes in the mirror before continuing.

"Suguru, whom you've fucked a total of one and a half times, only seen at night under neon lamps, and don't even know what he does for a living?"

"What was that slime monster?"

"Exactly."

"But they're just heroes! Really…weird heroes."

Tira tsked, and it was the first time Angie felt her age with the woman since they'd met. "What did I say about letting men play hero with you?"

"But he's not playing-"

"He's as serious as a 16 year old boy can be. Which, believe you me, is playing. Playing hero, noirette."

Tira felt as though she could hear Angie's heart break, and decided to change her approach.

"Little bird, when is he coming back?"

"Dunno." She muttered. Tira turned to find the girl's face in her hands, her newly defined curls curtaining her no doubt reddened complexion.

"Wanna see?"

Angie didn't react.

Whipping out her phone, Tira tapped a few keys. In just one ring came the bedroom voice of her favorite romp.

"Ye-llow~"

"Blue" she purred.

The phone went silent. Then a word, on a voice that wavered ever so slightly with boyish glee.

"Tira?" Satoru asked in disbelief.

"Its me. I need a favor."

"A-anything! Uh, well almost anything. Yes?"

"I need to know the next time you and your friend plan to come to the district together, a few days in advance. Is that alright?"

"Uh, sure. Why?"

"No questions. Just be sure to have some serious bread next time I see you. Tell your pal to empty his sock drawer. We're gonna play a little game."

Tira clapped the phone shut, and tossed it onto the counter.

Angie watched the device skitter until it stopped.

"Good. Now all we need is to choreograph"

"Choreograph? Wha-"

"Your mimic dance, of course. The one you'll do on Geto and Gojo when they bid on you."

"When they do WHAT?"

Tira was up from her chair in a moment, bouncing toward her charge with the glee of a girl half her age.

"When they bid, my love! They're going to bid to claim you. Only one of them can, now, since they're best friends. The other will be forbidden from booking with you forever!”

She paused.

“Or at least until you’re fully on the market and can choose your own clients, which won’t be for years. We'll see who is in love with who then~"

Angie's jaw dropped, her heart kicking in her chest at the sudden adrenaline that Tira had injected into her bloodstream.

"No. No! What if Geto can't out-bid Gojo?"

"He can and will."

"But Gojo has money. Like, old money. What if he screws him over?"

"He wouldn't do that if his friend was really in love with you"

"But what if he's not?"

"Aha! There it is."

Angie closed her wings around herself and hid in the bundle of feathers as if huddling against a strong wind. Her breathing softened to a light coo as she attempted to steady her anxious pulse.

Tira's heart skipped a beat at the sight of the scared girl. Hesitating, the woman dropped to her knees before her, and took her hands from beneath the plumage of her wings, massaging them in her own.

"Angie, baby?" She cocked her head to the side, her grin softening to one of sympathy. "You're scared, huh?"

"Yes." Her voice was muffled and small.

"Baby, this is an exercise in maturity. See this as a win win win. You get to find out if he shares your feelings without ever revealing your own, you get showered in cash, and you don't even have to show skin. Plus, nothing clears my head like a good auction."

Wait a minute, auction? Wasn't there a big one coming up? Screw the mimic dance, she might be able to make Angie a star.

But was she ready?

"But if he loses he can't ever book with me again" the girl sniffled.

"If he loses, he'll just have to find a way to love you for free, Raven."

The girl parted her wings and a sliver of light danced in her wet, owlette-like eyes.

"You're so smart"

Tira rested her head in the girl's lap.

"I know."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

For the next three weeks, Tira strictly forbade Angie from contacting her boo-thang, and put her under rigorous training for her one shining moment as a prize between the two boys.

According to Tira, this was her first test in distinguishing work from play, where she would need to be okay being an ultimatum, a genuine variable to someone's life and limb. It was the pride and joy of geishas to move their audience beyond recognition with their art, and she needed to be worthy of that.

And beyond anything else, it was her duty to make him suffer, Tira had said- especially since he'd had the audacity to make her fall in love with him.

"These boys are brothers in arms. Why should you be what comes between them?" Tira snapped, tapping a closed fan sharply to her student's protruding hip.

This time, Angie was balancing a short stack of books on her head, atop them a teacup filled with hot tea. The steam wafted from the cup as she watched it in the full length mirror before her, reminding her of the imminent danger of dropping it.

"W-well"

"Don't hesitate. Why would one of them choose you over the other?"

"Because I am not a want."

"What are you?"

"A need"

"Yes." Tira clapped her fan and Angela posed in the second formation that had been taught to her, where she popped her chest and tucked her stomach, her fingers pinched delicately above her head and the heels of her feet raised up from the ground. She met her own eyes in the mirror, not spilling a drop of tea.

"Why should they spend their life savings, their allowance, the very last penny of their piggy bank on you?"

"Because it was never theirs, it was mine from the day they met me."

"Good!" She clapped her fan once more, and Angie adjusted in time with her command.

Tira clapped her fan, posing, adjusting, and instructing Angie until she was exhausted, and even beyond. She made the girl go days in heels until the blisters became part of her feet, and spoke to her with the kind of instruction an old madame might have given a disobedient upstart.

And then came the choreography. Angie had been bent, bounced, and broken until she could execute every move to perfection. She was up practicing at dawn, and didn't stop until her shift every night.

Angie didn't know if she regretted telling the girl about her feelings, but if this didn't end soon, she thought she would take them back.

Angela laid flat on her back on her Sensei's plush mattress, much softer than her own last-minute sleeping arrangements, and absentmindedly addressed the burn marks in the ceiling above her as they wound the periphery of the room, looking desperately for a distraction from the stinging in her feet. She wasn't sure if Tira would be back from her last call of the night soon, and was worried to be found slacking, but the worry didn't overpower the exhaustion.

"Ooooh what am I gonna do~" she moaned.

Her breasts were swollen in her loose grasp, having been heavy and burdened ever since she'd begun to tighten up about weaning Miku. She didn't know why she couldn't just keep letting her baby nurse- it felt better for both of them, anyway.

Well, that was a lie. She knew why, it was so she could finally move up the ranks from a rookie geisha to a full performer by her next birthday. It would make her and Miku more money, and she'd finally be able to rent her own place in the Playground. Her baby couldn't be attached to her the way she was now, or she'd be stuck until her daughter could talk.

Prodding delicately at her puffy nipples, she closed her eyes and pictured first holding Miku to them to relieve the pain, and then Geto.

Geto could…help instead…she thought blearily, her eyes fluttering a few times before she finally drifted.

She didn't know that she'd fallen asleep until a light tap on her nose pulled her out of her stupor. Peering up into the lamp-lit halo above her, she saw her instructor's pursed, plum colored lips and arresting brown eyes, appraising her as if she were a curator and her charge a work of art.

"You're ready."

Angie's mouth snapped open and she sat up in the lush bed, holding the sheets to her chin. "How can you tell?"

Tira shrugged. It was the most juvenile movement Angie had seen her make in weeks. "I just can. Look at how you sat up, no haste. How you woke from your sleep, so graceful. Stand for me."

Angie did as she was told without a second thought, as if her body moved on its own. She swept up from the bed lightly, her posture tall, and floated to the space before Tira as if she materialized there.

Her feet hurt but her discipline had taught her to stand tall anyway. Tira circled her once, stood back, and hummed in approval.

"Yeah" Tira smiled, her eyes crinkling in the corners with a surprising melancholy. Angie wondered how much sleep she'd gotten herself over the span of her student's training. If she'd been suffering too, she hadn't let on even once. "You can feel it, too, right?" She murmured, "You're more womanly."

"I don't believe that I have changed that quickly-"

"Listen to you! I don't believe~" she held a petite hand to her lips and laughed breathily. "You sound like you have tea with the Emperor at 2pm. What do you say, shall we check in on the boys?"

"No. We shouldn't."

Tira nodded. She'd passed the test.

"Mmm there's a hot spring nearby. Let's celebrate with a late night dip, hm?"

Angie felt a twinge in her stomach, then again, lower. Tira's eyes sparkled like pools of honey in the golden light of her candelabra as she waited for her response.

Angie let her eyes search her instructor's, tapping her cheek to draw out the moment before finally agreeing.

"Yes, let's."

[NSFW YURI INCOMING]

The hot water felt like heaven on her weary limbs as she stretched her wings in the deep pool. She sank up to her shoulders in the delicious water, which had been mixed with a fragrant lavender oil at Tira's request. Her hair was free of her usual puffs, the coils tickling her shoulder blades as they soaked up the water.

She felt the urge to swim, but was scared to do anything that might make her seem juvenile enough to be put back in training. Instead, she dunked a cupped hand into the pool and ran it on her face and neck.

"Ahhhh~" she sighed, the last cool air of her lungs escaping into the humid room.

She was alone though, waiting anxiously for Tira to tie up her boundless hair in the changing room so that it wouldn't gain ten pounds in water weight the second she stepped into the pool. It made sense, but Angie watched the door for her anyway, trying her best to suppress the hammer in her chest when the woman finally revealed her naked form.

Her complexion like honey butter all the way down, with not a blemish to be seen, Angie watched Tira slink opposite her into the hottub, her supple curves slicing the water in two. Her large breasts buoyed themselves on the surface, and she stretched her arms above her head in languid yawn that was somehow both sensual and completely self indulgent.

Angie averted her gaze, realizing she'd been staring.

"So you do like women," Tira hummed.

Angie started.

"Yes."

"I love that you give me straight answers now," she smiled, and dimples pricked her cheeks. Did she always have dimples?

"Thank you, sensei"

"You're welcome, darling." The older woman leaned across the water, and her wet cleavage tilted toward her charge. "But I'm still just Tira. We're past all that, remember?"

Angie nodded and Tira slunk to her side, slinging an arm over her shoulder.

"Although, I would like to call you imouto- chan, if that's okay?"

"It's okay," Angie was painfully aware of Tira's naked thigh pressing against her own under the water.

She refused to meet Tira's questioning gaze. A slow smile spread across the woman's lipstick- stained lips, a mischievous expression taking hold on her face.

"Or would you prefer something else?"

Her arm dropped. A squeeze on Angie's upper thigh sent her heart racing. Her lungs tightened, and she couldn't breathe. None of it showed on her face.

Angie cut her eyes at the woman experimentally.

"Well, Onii- chan~" she paused, thinking. She took pleasure in Tira's widening eyes.

"Could you call me your pretty bird again?" She whispered after a beat, moving Tira's hand to her narrow waist. She couldn't believe her boldness, and couldn't believe how quickly she'd adapted either.

Tira faced her head on.

Tira's heart shaped face was framed by long, silky tresses that stuck to her cheeks from the humidity, her large top bun crowning her head in its giant coil. Her long lashes were beaded with water, and her brown eyes glimmered like quartz. The whole image affirmed in Angie's head that her stage name "Empress" was no accident.

"Oh really, you want me to call you Pretty bird?" she sang. She leaned in, and when Angie didn't pull away, she placed a quick, wet kiss on Angie's lips. "Mmm" she licked her lips as if she'd tasted like candy. "Such a pretty bird, my imouto-chan is." She kissed her again. "My pretty, pretty…"

Another kiss, and this time Angie didn't let her pull away.

The women's bodies pressed together in the water, fitting together like the pieces of a puzzle. They drew together like magnets, their soft flesh spreading the oil along each other's skin in ferver as their tongues fought for control in each other's mouths. They haphazardly found their rhythm, Angie's core softening like molten lava at the feeling of Tira's slick treading her thigh.

"God yes~" Tira sighed against her ear as she massaged the girl's breasts on the pool's surface, taking special care around her sore nipples. "You've gotten so bold, noirette." She rubbed the mounds against her own.

Angie whimpered into the hollow of her neck as she licked and bit and kissed her as deep as she dared. She pressed the woman down onto her thigh and rocked, feeling her desire finally begin to flow.

"Onii-chan~" she whined at the feeling of Tira's fingers stroking the base of her wings. She arched her back in pleasure . "T-that feels so- ah!"

"Calling me that right now is dangerous, princess" the woman growled into her open mouth before assaulting it with her own, more hungry, more thirsty than before.

"Ah!" Angie gasped for air in the few gaps the kiss left her to breathe.

Tira ducked below the surface, slurping the girl's peaks into her mouth in one greedy gulp, never slowing her rhythm as she rode her thigh. Instead, she let her legs slide between her own, and let Angie borrow her friction.

Angie cradled the woman's face in her hands as she suckled her, the pleasure sensors in her nipples sighing in sweet relief. She reached around to grab her ass, gripping the pillowy mounds against her as if for dear life. Tira watched her pupil's desperation build through lowered lashes.

"Brlrbrlm?"

"Hm?" Angie wondered if it was the water muffling Tira or her own thoughts.

Breaking the surface once more, she threw her arms around Angie's neck and pulled her close, letting the water help glide Tira back and forth against the girl's cunt.

"I said, do I feel like you imagined, sweetie?"

Tira peered into Angie's swimming gaze as the girl nodded dreamily. She giggled.

"Tira~"

"Hm?"

"I'm g-gonna-"

"Awe, already?" She slowed, rolling her hips with the water. "I'm flattered."

She felt the girl shudder from the pleasure. A string of light curses escaped her delicate lips as she pressed Angie against the tub for more pressure, watching closely as her face contorted in desire. She felt the girl trying her best to hold out as she stroked her, and couldn't help but find it adorable.

Angie watched her back in awe with heavy lids as her teacher floated in her vision. Tracing Tira's figure with painstaking adoration, she reached up, tiredly, and thumbed the woman's nipples, lapping them with her tongue as she maintained what she knew would look like doe-eyed wonder.

Tira's breath hitched, and Angie knew it worked when the woman bit her lip and leaned in to kiss her, deep. She pulled back, looking as though she wanted to devour her.

"God, Angie, is this why those boys are so crazy about you?" She punctuated the question with peck to her nose. "No wonder all these grown men want you. To take good care of you like this."

Pouting, Angie leaned up to graze her jaw with her lips.

"You're better than any man," she sighed, planting kisses down her neck. She felt, more than heard, Tira moan.

"Awe, sweet baby~"

Smiling, Tira twirled two fingers on the surface of the murky water before using them to gently nudge her thighs aside and access her trimmed pussy.

Teasing her lips apart, Tira inserted them inside, laughing throatily as Angie sucked them in with ease.

"Ngah!" Angie sank down on the digits, rutting against them as they beckoned her forward. She couldn't understand her own thoughts outside of the coil of her teacher's fingers. Dribble poured from her mouth as Tira switched positions, spreading her mount to entrap both of Angie's thighs.

"This makes you tighter, noirette" she hummed, as if it were a simple lesson in mathematics.

"And this-"

She bounced as she fingered her, the water pressure popping against Angie's clit as it splashed her opening. She cried out at the dual sensations.

"-is how you take advantage of your environment." She nuzzled her cheek, and began sucking on her earlobe.

"H-how are you fucking me with the water?" She gasped, throwing her head back until she saw the steamy ceiling floating above their lustful bubble.

"There's lots of things I can fuck you with, imouto-Chan" she giggled.

The giggle was choked off when Angie dipped forward and forced entry into her mouth, swallowing her lips with a ferver Tira hadn't known she'd had. For a moment they were both under the water, unable to breathe and barely caring. When they broke the surface again, Tira forced Angie to face the wall as she pressed into her ample ass, rebounding off of its ripples until pleasure throbbed in her core.

"Fu-uck!" Angie wailed, gripping the wall. Tira gasped in time with the laps of the water.

"Ah, ah, fuck, little bird…damn you feel like dough…"

With one hand holding her waist in place against her, Tira worked her hand around to Angie's slit, working her fingers in and out of her tightening hole. Angie leaned into her, her hand finding Tira's between the folds of her thighs. She forced her teacher deeper, coaxing a ripple of pleasure through her core.

"Unh~ Tira! " She whined, her cheek pressed flat against the side of the hottub.

"Yeah?" Tira bit into her neck as she ground herself into her prodigy's plump ass.

Angie surrendered to the feeling of Tira using her body for her own pleasure, doubling over when she felt her teacher take hold of her hips.

"Fuck me, sensei" she whined, "Please?"

"You want me to fuck you baby? You want me to show you how to fuck a woman?"

"Y-yes," she pleaded.

Angie craned her neck so that she could taste her lips one more time, and found Tira's mouth waiting eagerly for just that. Her teacher slowed, riding her ass in languid strokes as their tongues coiled into each other's mouths. Angie couldn't hold on another moment. She squeezed her thighs together, trapping their fingers, and squirting against her sensei's insistent touch. She gasped into her open mouth, and Tira held her there until she finished.

"Finger me," she purred, licking Angie's essence from her manicure. Angie quickly obliged.

Backing Angie to the wall, Tira rode her pupil's fingers on her own, bobbing in the water as she played with her own stiff peaks.

As she bobbed, the water lapped across the tub, creating ripples that made the low-lights dance. Angie could see nothing but Tira's slender back, but felt her pleasure in every cell of her form.

Angie felt her own pussy contract again as Tira finally made herself come on her flexing fingers, casting a glance over her shoulder at her student's awed expression.

Tira slowed, holding the digits to her stiff clit as she pursued an even higher peak, forcing Angie to watch her get her nut. Angie couldn't look away.

She wailed as she came again, and again, her eyes rolling as she pinned Angie to the wall.

"Gah!"

The woman heaved as she slid into the space between Angie's arms, finally resting in the crook of her neck as pleasure broke against their balmy skin. They let themselves stay there for a while, limbs tangled, before one of them finally spoke.

"Fuck." Angie murmured.

Tira pecked her cheek once, then twice. Lingering by her ear, she licked the crown playfully as if she was only getting started. That is, until she pulled away, and floated to the edge of the pool, giggling.

"Wow." Was all Angie could muster.

Tira smiled.

"Mmm. Indeed."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The night finally arrived.

Gojo and Geto stood across from one another on the train as it sped them toward their instructed destination, the Tokyo City Concert Hall. The car was full of salarymen, no doubt on their way home for the night, completely oblivious to the threat that either boy posed to them, or the protection they provided- but what else was new.

The pair found themselves huddled in the farthest alcoves of the rounded train they could get, away from the bustling crowd that would likely ignore them anyway, hoping the sway of the carriage muffled their words.

"I feel like something is up tonight." Geto muttered, half to himself.

"You, me, and the whole dorm. I mean," Gojo motioned to the suits the pair had donned in preparation for the night, "who wears these to a booty call?"

Gojo had dressed sharply in a three piece black and alabaster suit, pressed, tailored, and detailed for the night at Tira’s request. He wore a black button down and blazer jacket that matched his hair, the lapels held in place on either breast with blue sapphire pins that had been awarded to him by the Gojo clan at his 16th birthday ritual, marking his maturity and blood connection to the clan. The material of the suit emphasized the bulk he usually obscured in his dark, boxy school uniforms, his broad shoulders and trim waist making the suit look more as if it were wearing him than vice versa.

Besides the suit, he’d hidden his eyes behind a pair of dark shades a grade nicer than his usual pair, their construction made from carved wood rather than metal, stenciled on the sides with his initials. His cufflinks caught the mechanical light of the train and winked every time he moved, their ore immutable genuine silver. The same was true of the small blue gem he wore in one ear, which Geto had never seen him wear before that night. The only thing about the boy that was recognizable was the tuft of tussled cloud-white hair that sat atop his head.

“When did you get your ear pierced?”

Gojo muttered.

“Huh?”

“...Mei said it would look good on me.”

Geto scoffed. “Well earrings are my thing so don’t you dare-”

“Dare what? Outdress you?”

The dark haired boy smirked. No way was Gojo outdressing him in that monkey suit.

Geto had cleaned up just as well, his own scarlet and charcoal suit ironed down to the creases the way his mother had shown him, crisped from the top collar to the cuffs of his sleeves. His red satin button down matched the pocket square (which he almost hadn’t found in time) in the lapel of his dark suit, and his black tie had been pinned into place beneath a gold clip with the emblem of a dragon- a gift from his grandfather, as if he’d known about his powers in advance.

That night, he’d exchanged his usual metal ear gauges for a pair of onyx disks that he’d bought specially for the occasion, and they glinted from his ears with a subtle glossy depth that made him look mysterious.

Rather than precious jewelry, he’d opted for a more down to earth vibe with black volcanic beads encircling either wrist, stacked around his favorite vintage watch. His black nails had been freshly cleaned, painted, and trimmed.

Finally, not knowing how he should do his hair, he’d opted for his usual clipped bun and bangs, sweeping them away from his face as neatly as he could muster.

“I’ll admit, you look clean, but you look like you’re going to prom.” Gojo shrugged, playfully.

“And you look like you're putting Nana Gojo to rest.”

This stop is Shinjuku City- I repeat, Shinjuku City. Please watch your step.

The boys ducked under the low- hanging sign to the station’s entrance as they stepped onto the street. They looked left and right, trying their best to not look like fish out of water.

“I don’t suppose you know how to get there?”

“You went on map quest, right?”

The boys blinked at each other, and face palmed.

This was gonna be a long night.

After a long trek through the darkening streets of Tokyo, as well as several sets of bad directions, Gojo and Geto finally found the grand old building that was to host the variety show that they'd anticipated since Tira's call.

With the block out front as packed with tough customers as any club, the opera house stood to be used that evening as a cooperative territory for underworld-goers and their business. The boys watched the building light up just as the last light of the day fell, its red carpet unfurled in preparation for the guests that would be stepping through the door any minute.

The large windows of the modern relic stood tall and wide, propositioning onlookers to look into them as if they were the building's eyes. Beyond them was the shimmer of multiple chandeliers, golden wallpaper, and a ceiling painted to put the sistine chapel to shame.

Geto whistled in appreciation. This was where they were meeting them? His thoughts of the weeks before replayed in his mind, where he'd asked Angie on a date after they'd….

Well, if this was the first date, what would the second look like? Did this even count as a date?

"Satoru?"

"Yeah?"

"What exactly did your connection intend with us when she asked us to attend this event and- quote- 'bring all the cash in our sock drawer'? "

"Your guess is as good as mine."

"And why don't I get to meet her?"

"She said that she wasn't available to me tonight, but that she wanted to proposition me on something. I don't know. She plays games like this a lot, but this is the most elaborate one yet."

"And why was I involved?" Geto cocked his head, half concerned, half amused.

"Hm. Well she said something about a game that would take both of us? And she obviously knows who you are by name, although…not sure how…" he trailed off, realizing just how little he knew about what Tira had planned for them that night.

"Uhhhuh…and what's stopping me from getting back on the train, Satoru?"

"Because I know she'll be here tonight." Gojo smirked.

Geto's face fell, and he rubbed the back of his neck. "What do you mean?"

"Oh, don't give me that,'' Gojo nudged him, "she hasn't responded for weeks again, but all of a sudden she did, right? And now you decide to step out with me, because you invited her, right? I'm not as stupid as my last final made me seem, Suguru."

"Well," the dark haired boy grimaced, rubbing his neck even more harshly as if trying to set it ablaze, "you're actually right, minus a few details…"

"Suguru?"

Geto had stopped his 5am run to respond.

"Raven!"

"Hello! Sorry, can't talk long, or ill get caught. I know this is odd, but will you come to see me dance?"

"Yes! Of course, why would that be weird?"

"Because your friend with the glasses will be there too. The one you were looking for when you…found me"

"...oh. uh, sorry. Why?"

"Because it turns out that I… service him too…and my mentor is putting my services up for auction. Please be sure to win me. See you soon."

The conversation had raised more questions than answers, but after speaking to them both, Suguru knew that whatever the game was, he needed to win.

Geto's jaw muscles worked as he watched Gojo talk absentmindedly about how tight his blazer was on his shoulders. He watched the white haired boy closely, as if seeing him again for the first time.

Traitor.

Woah. Where had that come from?

Gojo turned and was caught off guard by the look in Geto's dark eyes.

"Woah, man, you okay?"

Suguru averted his gaze. "Yeah, just nervous about seeing her, like you said."

"Well she better get here soon, we're about to head in."

The boys had finally made it to the front of the line, and knew from the moment they'd made eye contact with the doorman that they weren't getting in without a fight.

"Card carriers only" he sneered at the boys down his long, slender nose.

"That's funny, I believe I carry a card,"

Smiling warmly, Gojo slid his fingers into the folds of his wallet, and withdrew two things- his fake ID, and a black coated metal credit card that weighed far too much for its size. Geto had never seen him use it for anything more than a status symbol, but had a sneaking suspicion that its credit limit was as infinite as its owner's technique.

The Maitre D's eyes sparkled at the sight of the card, and after flicking his eyes between the small rectangle of privilege and the boy wielding it with bright blue eyes, he shifted his gaze to Suguru.

"And you, sir?"

Geto blushed.

Before Gojo could claim him as his companion, the sound of dozens of pairs of clicking heels echoed down the sidewalk, and the boys- along with the other sidewalk dwellers, party-goers, and opera house connoisseurs- turned to see where the sound was coming from.

The first impression of the performers was that of walking art. They moved as one in shimmering outfits, their various props bobbing on their swaying hips and in their slender hands. They looked neither left, nor right, but straight ahead as they bypassed the line of patrons that gawked at their enormous presence.

"Ah, here are the ladies of the auction now."

"Auction?" Gojo questioned, the boys' eyes never leaving the parade of forest nymphs, water lillied- fairies, and exotic looking interpretive dancers.

And among them, they spotted her at once.

Raven wore a black diamond mask, her high cheekbones and lips dusted in a purple-black shade that made her look fierce and siren-like in her expression. Her wings, sprayed in a glittery sheen that made them look like a night sky full of stars, were on full display behind her, catching the attention of every onlooker that had dared to watch her. However, it wasn't just her anthropomorphic traits that had arrested attention.

The girl wore a shortened kimono that had been modified to her shapely body, the hem likely only extending an inch beyond her finger tips.

The thin veil of fabric was imprinted with white cranes and flowers throughout its tight coverage of her rounded hips and bust, rippling with extra fabric in places only to mimic waves on pitch-black water.

Further accentuating her figure was a large black- satin ribbon, encircling her torso and exploding in a bow off of her perky ass, with several strings of tinsel and black coins that protruded from it creating music in time with her walk.

And her walk; she strutted in time with the other dancers on her long, shapely legs, her more-sheer-than-sheer stockings making it look as though her thick thighs had been stuck with precious gems, embedded into her smooth mocha skin as if by magic.

Her black heels clicked as she marched forward, her hands hidden in the long sleeves of the kimono- the only thing about it that was modest.

In all her glory, Raven looked like a cross between a porcelain doll and a fallen angel, one that had been brought to life to seek revenge on her maker.

As if feeling their eyes on her, Angie's gaze flitted to the boys at the front of the line, just as she was about to enter the venue. They'd been frozen to the spot by her entrance.

Feeling a swell of pride, she continued to strut and avoid drinking in their looks- there would be time for that later.

That is, until she saw that the bouncer had stopped them at the door.

The girls turned at once to face the crowd, immediately catching the interest of everyone in line.

The parade of women clapped rhythmically three times, before raising their hands, and bowing deeply.

"Meshiagare!"

They repeated themselves in several languages for their foreign guests.

"Bon appetit! Please enjoy!"

And with that, they filed into the venue as fluidly as swans.

"Sir, these are my personal guests." Angie broke from the line of girls and approached the man as the rest of the performers entered, applause at their backs from the line of patrons that had watched their entrance.

Taking the maitre d's elbow in her taloned forefinger and thumb, she stood until the man brought his ear to her lips.

"Empress' request."

"Ah," the man nodded, infinitely more agreeable with her than he'd been with the two boys.

"Follow me." He said, " I have special instructions for you two."

Geto and Gojo shared a look of ultimate confusion, but- to Gojo's disappointment and Geto's painful chagrin- Raven had left in a plume of black ribbon and glitter without sparing them a second glance.

When the boys entered the venue on the trail of yet another host, they couldn't focus their eyes on anything ahead of them; all their attention was reserved for the ceiling, walls, and extremely lively crowd.

The crowd was made up of men and women from several countries and nearly all walks of life- human, half human, or otherwise. The cursed energy they felt wafting from the party goers was almost enough to make them defensive, but was still jovial enough to make them feel at home.

Men in blazers stood in huddles, exchanged business cards, and even played miniature croquette in one corner of the room; their female counterparts floated about on their arms, nodding in time with conversation and punctuating sentences with light laughter.

Before they'd gotten their barings, the host turned to them abruptly at the center of the room.

"Which of you is Suguru?"

The dark haired boy raised two fingers in acknowledgement.

"Raven would like to see you in the hall. And you must be Satoru," the host half asked, half asserted.

Gojo raised his snowy brows expectantly.

"You will be helped shortly. Enjoy the refreshments."

Before Geto could exit, Gojo placed a hand on his chest to stop him.

"Raven?" He asked without facing his friend head on. "That's the name of the girl you're in love with?"

Geto worked to keep his expression neutral. "You know her?"

Gojo didn't respond.

"Be right back" Geto just short of spat.

Gojo watched him go from behind the sheen of his dark shades. He was unsure of just how much Geto knew, but was suddenly very sure that he wouldn't fail this intuition test, when it came to finding out.

A waitress stepped into his line of vision.

"Champagne?"

He hesitated before picking up a long-stemmed flute. He didn't usually need the courage, but he would tonight.

~~~~~

"Mmph!"

Geto exclaimed when he felt the girl's lips on his the second he stepped into the shadowy alcove off of the main hall.

Separating from his mouth with a small *pop* the girl dug around in her dress until she'd uncovered what she was looking for.

"Here, hurry, take this." Angie shoved a small note card into his hand, glossy and folded over so that he couldn't see what was in it until he opened it.

"I have to explain-"

"Yes. Please."

"Will you let me?"

Geto blinked, his dark eyes trained on nothing but her. His silent answer was loud and clear.

"Okay. Open the card."

He flipped it open. It was blank, save for one thing.

Taped inside the card was a small, black coin the size of a checkers piece. It was waxy and grooved, and opaque as far as he could tell.

"That is the Bidder's coin. Well, no one is supposed to know which of my coins are bidder's coins," she motioned to the remaining coins that encircled her waist and bow, "because not all of them are. There are only three."

Geto's brow crinkled.

"Wai-"

"Not done. No time. As I was saying, this is a bidder's coin." She tapped the card. "It means that when the time comes, at the end of the night, only those with coins like yours will be allowed to bid for me. It's supposed to be a game of chance, but I need you to win, so I delivered one straight to you."

"Why?"

"Because if you don't-" Angie's eyes were large, round, and wet- "you won't be allowed to see me again."

~~~

In the next room, Gojo had successfully downed two and a half flutes of champagne, and a shot of cognac that had been offered to him by a French sailor. Apparently the French had the best cognac.

"Vous aimez?" The sailor asked, winking.

Gojo shook his head and shrugged.

"I speak Japanese, sorry" he responded, half wondering if the man had really spoken another language, or if he'd already succumbed to the alcohol.

The sailor made an 'aha' nod of the head, and motioned as if taking a swig. He then put his thumbs up and raised his brows in a questioning sort of way.

"Ohh you asked if I like it. Yeah, thanks. I-its strong."

The sailor laughed, clapping a hand on his back. Gojo hoped he'd been understood, but when he was handed another shot, his shoulders sagged. He didn't know if he could handle any more. He was already breaking the rules of his clan- the very rules that had made him an unfortunate lightweight in the first place- and needed to figure out how to say 'no' in French.

The tinkling of a glass quieted the room, and all attention was drawn to a balcony that Gojo hadn't previously noticed was there. A suited man with a long lapel on his jacket, and a slicked ponytail with shaved sides, was clinking his glass with a fork.

"Ah, esteemed guests!"

Gojo scanned the room. All of the guests looked well dressed, but some of them were hardly esteemed by his standards. Some of them looked like bodybuilders that had been painted into suits. And was that the dragon gang in the corner-?

"It is a pleasure to see you all on this hallowed night. As we finish welcoming members from outside, I thought it would be an excellent time to make a toast!"

He raised his glass, and the crowd followed suit.

"To the owners of this opera hall, we thank you from the bottom of our hearts for allowing us to host our show- one of talent, valor, and prestige.

To our girls, thank you for bringing us such a delectable assortment of entertainment to enjoy each year. You are truly the highlight of our dreary yearly toil.

And to our donors, it is because of your generosity that we feast our eyes, stomachs, and souls on all that our little society offers.

Cheers!"

Gojo's jaw dropped. He would need to take some pointers from this man for his next public speaking class.

He took a sip from the glass of cognac that had warmed in his clammy hand. At least, he thought he would take a sip, but the glass he drew back was empty.

Ugh. I need to slow down.

"Now, for the rules of the night!" The man continued, his smile broadening as if the bubbles of his champagne had buoyed his spirit even higher than before.

~~~~~

"So here are the rules" Angie's tearful gaze had Suguru pinned to the wall.

Suguru swallowed fearfully.

"Go on."

Angie gingerly grabbed at the coins looping her waist.

"These black coins will be distributed to the players on the floor. They are made of plastic and a special kind of wax."

~~~~~

"As the night progresses," the slick haired man boomed, " the wax will melt from the coin, and only plastic will remain. In order for it to melt, you must keep it warm in the palm of your hand."

~~~~~

"When the wax is gone, the other coins will be blank, but yours- and two others- will have a four leaf clover in the center when you hold it to the light."

Suguru held the opaque coin up, picturing the clover as if it had already been revealed.

~~~~~~

"And when it is revealed, at the appropriate time, you will ring a bell that will be stored beneath your seat. There will be three ringing bells tonight."

The man poured over the crowd with a sweeping gaze, languishing in the suspense.

"Then" he said finally, "and only then, will the bidding begin."

~~~~~

"And they will bid for me to serve them exclusively until the next game."

Geto felt like he was going to black out.

"Raven, what makes you think I can outbid anyone in there?"

"Because it's rigged. I'm not sure how besides this," she tapped the coin again, "but my sensei says that this is necessary for us to continue to see each other. I'm s-s-sorry-" Angie bit her lip.

"I promise it will be okay," she continued, "it's just that…well…I didn't know if you would do this for me."

Geto's stomach did a flip at the sight of the gorgeous girl on the verge of years.

"H-hey," he reached out a hand to sweep away one of her tears before it could streak her painstakingly applied makeup.

"Its gonna be okay. If this is what it takes, I'll do it. You did say that this was complicated for you, right? Let's make it uncomplicated."

He grabbed her hands in his and kissed them.

"I'm gonna win. And when I do, you're gonna tell me your name, hm?"

The dark fae smiled.

"Deal."

~~~~~~~~

Gojo's attention was drawn to the door as it swung open to reveal Raven, but not his best friend. Raising a brow, he scanned the crowd to see if he could pick up his cursed energy, but it was nowhere to be found.

His eyes returned to Raven as she mingled with the crowd, the patrons bombarding her for a closer look, and eventually, a coin from her dress. She giggled as she swam her way through the thickening attention.

"Let her breathe!" The man called playfully from the balcony. "She still has to dance!"

Should I ask her where he went?

Still searching, he didn't realize he'd lost sight of the girl until she was tapping his shoulder.

"Gojo! You made it!"

He turned and looked down into her face, smiling.

"Angie!"

"Shhh! They can't know my real name here. Call me Raven."

Oh yeah, Raven.

"Want a coin?" She grinned, offering him a plastic disk from her dress.

"Uh, no, I don't think I'll be playing." He shook his head, making his vision blur for a moment. "I did want to ask you something though-"

“Are you Satoru?”

The pair turned to see yet another plain-vested host, this one with an odd birthmark in the middle of his forehead.

“Uhh- why, yes, I am.”

“I have instructions to show you to your box ahead of the show.”

“Oh wow, box seats Gojo?” Raven’s eyes danced in delight. “You and your friend are gonna have some of the best seats in the house!”

Gojo’s brow furrowed, “Oh, wow. I didn’t even know I had those.”

The waiter shook his head. “Empress’ request.”

Damn, Tira, Gojo smirked, Little prince indeed.

“Oh, sure. Let me just get my friend-”

“Your friend has his own box.” The man quipped, matter-of-factly.

“Uh, oh, okay. Well, can I go find him anyway?”

“This will only take a moment, sir, then you can do as you wish.”

Raven nudged him. “I think Geto is in the alley just outside the back door, if you want to find him after. I have to go, but I really hope you guys enjoy!”

And with that, just like at the door, Raven disappeared with her ribbons streaming behind her.

Gojo grimaced.

“Well, okay. Lead the way, my man.”

After several rounds of winding steps, Gojo was shown to a velvety box that already sat several other high-brow looking guests. Their chatter was light and stopped only when he entered. It was dark, so he couldn’t tell how many there were, but they all gawked at him as if he were the first entree of the night.

“Uh, hello.” He bowed.

He could tell by the chuckles that several of them weren’t japanese. A woman snapped open her fan and hid her face.

“Oookay.”

“Your seat, sir.”

Gojo followed the tall, slender man to the banister that overlooked the venue, where a line of chairs waited. At the head of the line was a velvet chair, and on it sat an envelope with his name on it.

“Enjoy the show.” The host swept away.

Gojo scanned the chair before retrieving the card and turning it over. Attached to it was a small black coin, and a few words written in a gorgeous script that could only have been Tira’s.

“Fate finds those who do not choose their destiny, little prince.” he read aloud.

“Do with this what you will.”

[TO BE CONTINUED]

#gojo satoru #geto suguru #black oc #mha oc #jjk

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hyuuukais · 8 months

Text

.・゜-: ✧ :- FICTIONAL REALITY .・゜-: ✧ :-

pairing • bang chan x fem reader

synopsis • fiction or reality? y/n preferred the former, escaping into another world, escaping her problems. so what happens when reality takes that away from her; wiping her own story-in-progress off both her laptop and beloved usb? and what happens when she opens the door in the middle of a crisis to none other then the love interest of her novel... and he's holding her usb?

warnings • general, memories of y/n's past abusive relationship brought up

MASTERLIST | PREVIOUS | NEXT

CHAPTER FIFTEEN • WATER LILIES (1.8k)

You scramble away from your phone, stumbling upward. Around you is a world you've long since forgotten, or at least, one you've shoved back enough to ignore. The apartment is modest in size, a one-bed, one-bath, colours exploding all over the place.

Closest to you is the living room, which you carefully step into. Every step is with caution, daring something to step out of the shadows. Cold moonlight seeps into the room through thin curtains blowing in the slight breeze an open window allows, painting the room in a blue hue. A framed painting hangs above the red chaise lounge, one-of-a-kind by yours truly. Before it captured two hands clasped together, a symbol of love, but now it shows a hand holding a pair of scissors and another, a red string to match the couch.

Lying open on the small, square coffee table is an album you remember making in commemoration of your six-month anniversary, all photos from the monthly dates Yeonjun would take you on and one thing you loved about him next to each photo. You thought he would love it, the thought, the dedication.

He was furious. It was the first time he had raised his voice at you, about how much he had spent on the diamond necklace for you, how you had given him a scrapbook in return. Yeji had let you stay at her house that night, endless tears spilling from your eyes. She never pressured you to tell her what happened, nothing more than understanding you'd had a fight and needed to get out.

The next morning he showed up with flowers and an apology, promising he loved your gift and he was just stressed from work. Never in his life would he want to hurt you.

Never, with the exception of stressful nights and small mistakes.

For the next six months, tension grew between you two. You never knew how he'd react anymore, scared to do something that would make him snap. So you played your part, the dutiful girlfriend, and said what he wanted to hear, did what he wanted you to, wore the clothes he picked, ate the food he bought.

On the wall opposite the sofa is supposed to be your TV, but hanging there instead is a collage of photos, each from a month in your relationship. You can barely look, watching yourself deteriorate in real time. How did no one notice?

Or did they, and they said nothing?

Dark circles under your eyes and a faded smile, weariness personified. Two years in, you wince. There's no smile in this one, just you and him sitting across from each other at the dining room table with a laptop in between. You remember that night clearly, the way he calmly stood up after confronting you about the man you were writing about, convinced he was a real person and that you were cheating. You remember him picking up the laptop and walking over to the edge of the table closest to you, raising it above his head.

For a moment, you thought he would use it against you. But then came the sound of electronics hitting hard wood and you flinched, splinters and sparks flying in every direction. One good hit was all it took, the laptop beyond repair, your story lost.

Tears welled in your eyes, both then and now. The little comfort of escapism you had gone, along with your growing passion for writing. He killed those parts of you, the pieces of love and creativity, creating a shell of a human in your place. You didn't try writing again until after you left.

Where there should be a photo of you in your wedding dress is a blank frame. You're about to turn away when you spot it, a paper tucked underneath.

Carefully, you lift the frame off the wall. The paper is partially tucked inside, hidden in the front by a piece of thin cardboard. You sit on the sofa, unfolding the note.

Meet me at midnight, water lily.

Breathing becomes hard for you. Only one person calls you water lily, and you know exactly where to find him.

Throwing on a coat, you leave the apartment, not caring enough to explore more. Midnight, thirty minutes away. Could you make it there in time? What if you had gotten the location wrong? But where else would he mean?

You arrive with two minutes to spare, looking out at the stars reflecting in the river. The city across from you was alive with lights and sound, but here was quiet, the perfect place to paint.

The clock strikes twelve.

At ten after, you start to doubt the message. Maybe it had been there much longer than you have been, intended to be seen by you earlier. The sound of a car rumbling drifts into your mind and you're partially convinced it's your imagination until the doors slam shut.

"Water lily?"

Spinning around, you see two figures descending down the small hill from the parking lot down to the rocky beach-like area you stand on. His hair is longer than you remember it being, half pulled back into a small ponytail. Before you know it, he's engulfing you in a tight hug.

"Where the hell have you been?"

For a moment you wonder how he knows about you leaving considering you're back in time and haven't left yet, but then you remember.

"Oh, um." You struggle to talk into his chest. "Pre-wedding nerves got to me and I went on a spontaneous trip back home for the week."

Not true and he knew it, pulling back to look at you with confusion.

"But you don't talk to your parents?"

"I thought I'd tell them about the wedding," you say quickly. "They deserve to know their only kid is getting married. They aren't coming, but still."

"Of course, they aren't," someone behind your hugging figures scoffs.

You look around to see your best friend standing there and can't help the smile that breaks across your face. Seeing her here, unharmed, still intact, it's reassuring.

"Fuck 'em." Hyunjin finally pulls away completely.

"Yeah, what he said."

Yeji comes to your side, wrapping an arm around your shoulder. Now that she's closer, you spot a sliver of a scar running down just below her eye and down to her jaw, extending right underneath. That's new.

"We have a lot to tell you, and not much time." Hyunjin looks around the empty beach as if expecting others to join. "We should go."

"Did Minho say-"

"Minho?" You blurt. "He's here too?"

Yeji glances over to Hyunjin, eyes unreadable. You swear the two have a secret language only they can understand.

"Like I said," Hyunjin sighs. "We have a lot to tell you. Now, did he say his place or ours?"

"Not ours," Yeji says sharply. "He knows where to find us. He doesn't know Minho is back too."

"He..." your breathing picks up. "As in...?"

"Yes." She looks down briefly, then back at you with soft eyes. "Yeonjun. We think he's behind all of this."

A vibration in your pocket catches your attention; your phone. How did it get there? Didn't you leave it at home?

Better hurry, it reads. Foxes get hungry.

"Jeongin?" Chan shakes his arm.

Since he went into the other realm, no one's come into your room. No doctors, no nurses, no other visitors, nobody. Looking outside, the lights in the hall have dimmed immensely making it hard to see down the hallway. Chan dared to open the door, staring into the darkness with an eerie feeling creeping up on him. He didn't leave the room, just sat back down and waited.

And now he's here, seemingly alone with anxiety gnawing at his very soul, not knowing what's happening to you or Jeongin or Minho. Although he doesn't know Minho as well, leaving him unprotected felt wrong. He shouldn't be alone with all this uncertainty in the air.

A door slamming somewhere down the hall alerts Chan in his near sleeping state. No activity for the past hour, but now he hears running. He's quick to leap up and close the blinds, turning your lights off completely so as to not show life in this room. There aren't any weapons to defend you, only a lone abandoned scalpel on the nightstand left by a nurse from earlier. The footsteps stop right outside the door.

"Let me in," a voice Chan doesn't recognize calls out. "I know she's in there. You can make this easy for yourself and everyone else."

Chan can't breathe, back settled on the door and scalpel held tightly against his chest. All he can hear is his heartbeat, fast and uneven.

"Do me a favour and look at her, really look at her." For some reason, Chan obeys. "She isn't the perfect soulmate you think she is. The one you think she should be."

This, this is what insults Chan. Why would he think of you that way? Why would he hold you to an unrealistic standard? He understands you have flaws and won't be "perfect" all the time. You're human. He's learned a lot from you. How could he ever be mad at you for that?

The door opens aggressively, knocking Chan stumbling forward. Scalpel in hand, he turns toward the intruder walking through the door. At first, he doesn't recognize him, but the who he is becomes obvious. Who else would be trying to get into your hospital room?

"How did you find her?" Chan asks through gritted teeth.

"Simple," Yeonjun laughs. "I'll always find her."

"Why'd it take so long then?" Chan moves into the space between your bed and the intruder, trying to buy time. "It's been what, a year?"

"A year and a half." Yeonjun looks annoyed, leaning against the doorframe. "Not that it matters, I still got here."

"Did you though?"

As the conversation continues, Chan notices the way Yeonjun's body doesn't quite hit the doorframe or the way his voice sounds more distant than it should be. Somehow he's here, but he's not here.

"Does he know he's not real either?" Yeonjun turns the focus onto Jeongin, who still sits next to you with his head down on the bed. "None of this is?"

"No," Chan starts, shaking his head. "I'm the only one who's not supposed to exist. He wasn't apart of her story-"

"There's a lot you don't know yet." Yeonjun strides up to Chan, looking down at him with dark eyes. "Maybe I should leave you to figure it out, or maybe I should end this all now."

Chan strikes quickly, but the scalpel doesn't pierce. Instead, he stumbles through a fog and turns around to see Yeonjun's back. He barely catches himself, standing up straight as Yeonjun just watches your unmoving body. Chan goes to strike again, knowing it won't do anything, but at least he'll be back between your bodies.

His leg goes numb and he falls to the ground. The scalpel rolls out of where his hand should be, emptiness found in place of an arm.

●

notes • enjoy the first hiatus chapter lol

taglist • @yongbbokkie @chaeryred @tenebrisirae @toplinelix @chansdoll @amaranth-writing @3rachachoo @linosjureumi @thebrownemo @tfshouldidohere @channie-143 @frogieeheart @kangaracharacha @skzswife @hopefulrascalstatesmantoad

TAGLIST CLOSED ^^^blue means i can't tag you

#.・゜-: ✧ :- FICTIONAL REALITY .・゜-: ✧ :-#bang chan #bang chan x reader #bang chan x fem reader #skz x reader #stray kids x reader #skz #stray kids #skz fanfic #stray kids fanfic #bang chan fanfic #bang chan series #skz series

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