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orangetintedglasses · 7 months ago

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Everyone had background noise in the silence of their own mind. Absolutely everyone with no exceptions; like a distant drip of water from a leaking pipe, it was just white noise that ran parallel to conscious, more active thought, and louder some days than others... but it wasn't everyone who was privy to the minds of other people. And it wasn't until the thought of being broken skittered across Wolfwood's subconscious-- a note that wasn't as playful or light, acting as a gateway --that Vash actually noticed he was snagged on something. Something... heavier, deeper... something that resonated so closely with his own wavelength that the Plant found himself drawn to it's pull, where the edges of where he ended and Wolfwood began would slowly begin to fray for him, just that little bit...

Outwardly, a somewhat distant look will come over his face, focus drifting off course. What was this? What was this? What--

But, then, Wolfwood kissed him, and his body responded. Heat and affection bloomed unchecked and sickly sweet from his end of things and snapped him out of the draw of that fog, mentally running over the last ten seconds or so of conversation he missed. Wolfwood might've been able to hear his own thoughts echoed back softly, as the blond ran through them again, under the guise that he was confused about what was said--

Oh... oh, is that how it works? I see...

A lick of embarrassment-- of 'ohhhh okay, I misunderstood, but now I get what you mean', followed by a chuff. Light and slightly sheepish.

OkayI'mstupidoops, now I understand-- the surprise is part of the appeal, too. I'll definitely be keeping that in mind, then~...

A promise, for sometime in the near future. He would make good on that... a-and not spoil it by just announcing it, whether it was within the bounds of their unspoken connection or otherwise. And to punctuate that, Vash would pulled Wolfwood in for another kiss (or maybe a few, more than a few) and moved them ever closer towards the shower.

Maybe we should just clean up and sleep, then... I want to be able to get up and grab supplies for the road in the morning, and we have to make checkout time... besides I can't make sounds properly for you right now and I know you like that--

But he'd still keep up the slow, methodical touch and movement-- stepping into the basin of the tub, backwards, still pulling the undertaker with him--

arm arm arm my arm crap crap crap

--and... then remembered that his prosthetic should not get wet, and his whole... attempt at a sexy display of sorts began to unravel a bit as Vash's expression morphed into one of alarm, and he nearly leapt out of the range of the shower before it could properly drench him--

Despite the overall lighthearted tone of Wolfwood's mindscape and his internal voice, Vash would feel something constantly tugging at him from within. The wider he expands his reach, the more pressure he'd feel weighing him down. It's an anxious, omnipresent force—perhaps one that Vash has experience with himself—laced with a deep, innate sadness. It is likely that the 'fog' that occasionally weakens their connection also pertains to these same features.

And yet, Wolfwood is able to press on in his teasing without issue. There isn't any possible way to mask the burden of shame and guilt and depression and anxiety from anyone prodding at his mind. He can compartmentalize the specific memories and broad concerns, but he can't do much about how these deeply rooted negative feelings impact him daily—even when he's in the best of moods. They lurk like shadowy figures in the fog, hiding like monsters or demons until there's a crack in his armor.

———

The undertaker lets out a soft gasp when Vash cups his chin; his cheeks still full of a sweet, velvety red, like a gourmet confection. They'd gotten up to some absolutely sinful activities, and yet this suggestion appears to fluster him more than anything else—as if it's a freshly unearthed kink that his fairly inexperienced mind had never thought of before.

It takes a long time to do anything other than stare into Vash's baby-blue eyes with mouth agape. Again, his internal voice hiccups several times as it cycles through potential responses.

I'm, um... I'm always ready to go if it's you. You don't... really have to try too hard to, uh, g-get me going.

And it's true—he's repressed these kinds of feelings for so long; the thought of having sex with anyone had never been one to cross his mind until getting close to Vash. Honestly, he figured it had been beaten out of him. He assumed he was 'broken' for feeling this way.

Then here comes this... man. His mission, his fucking job, was to lead him to his death. Somehow—some fucking how—Vash had gotten close enough for Wolfwood to trust with something so... genuinely terrifying as baring himself, body and soul. He can't help but wonder if the blond knows how big of a fucking deal that is.

... It is hotter if I don't know you're gonna do it though. If it's just us curled up, sleepin', then one of us wakes up feelin' a type of way... Good Lord, Blondie... what you fuckin' do to me...

Wolfwood strokes Vash's cheek with his thumb and pulls him in for a deep kiss followed by a short one. He tangles their fingers together, addicted to the sensation of being connected like this now that he's getting the hang of it, and moves to turn on the shower. Thankfully, it heats up pretty quickly.

It um... What you suggested sounds, um, really hot, actually, but—you need sleep too, you idiot. We're leavin' town tomorrow now that you're all taken care of, right? If we're makin' camp and I hear you tell me you're too tired to help out, you got another thing comin' for you...

There is absolutely no hiding the wave of desire that radiates from him, though. It seems he doesn't actually seem to mind sleeping in. He might even be open to the idea of staying another night if they're too tired in the morning—especially if it means a few more rounds with the blond (as loathe as he is to admit that...).

#curtains up ✧〗( ic )#unmade ✧〗( main verse )#he might get burned but he's in the game ✧〗mothwood ( forgivenpunishment )#moth and flame got a sweetheart deal ✧〗mothwood ( vw )#suggestive;;#( goddang well thank you for the food this is my breakfast-- )#( 'if the blond knows what a big deal that is' PERHAPS. YOU COULD TELL HIM )#( YOU BOTH COULD PERHAPS. HAVE A CONVERSATION. )#( BUT YOU WON'T!!! you're both so!!!! *STRANGLING GESTURE* )#forgivenpunishment thr 07

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mihanisms · 1 month ago

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unraveled.

— caleb is a wolf, wild and angry and needing to devour everything in his path, but for you? he folds his ears back and cages his teeth behind bitten lips.

— puppy play, use of "ma'am / mistress" as a title, edging, mindbreak, footjob, dry humping, body worship. mean-ish femdom tease reader / manipulative forced sub caleb kinda but you are both #CRAZY so it does not matter. this is very different from what i usually write about i triiiieeeeed 💔

Never could you have imagined your childhood best friend—your Caleb—reduced to this. Bent low, rutting against your foot, eyes glistening with unshed tears as he clings to you like a man drowning. His breath hitches, every exhale a shaky plea and every syllable strung tight with desperation.

"Ma’am, please," he whines, voice frayed at the edges. "Mercy, just a little- I’m-"

He’s been begging for so long now, left to suffer under the slow, unbearable grind of your foot against his cock. The flimsy grey shorts he wears do nothing to hide the outline of his length and how it throbs beneath your touch. There’s a dark, wet patch on the fabric where his precum is seeping through, proof of just how far you’ve pushed him.

He swallows hard, throat working against the sob lodged inside. "I’ll be good," he tries. "The best puppy there is. Just-" A shudder rolls through him, knocking the breath from his lungs. "Please?"

Shame burns high on Caleb’s cheeks, but his body betrays him. His thighs are quivering, his hips twitching—helpless, needy and grinding forward like he has no control over himself. He’s trembling, panting through parted lips, desperate sounds spilling free before he can even think to swallow them down.

"Anything," he chokes out. "I’ll give anything, take anything—just, please."

Oh, you know that. You know how much he’ll endure, how much he’ll let you bend him before he breaks. He would lose himself for you. He would trade his dignity, his sanity, just for the promise of more. If only you’d let him. If only you’d be generous. If only-

But you wait.

You watch.

Every second stretches, thick and unbearable, and you see him fraying at the seams. His breath hitches and his fingers twitch, clawing at nothing. His muscles are locked up, fighting the desperate urge to reach, to take, to claim. But he wouldn’t. Not without your approval.

Caleb’s body moves before his mind catches up, swaying forward, drawn to you like a moth to a flame, aching for the warmth he knows only you can grant him. But just before he crosses that line—just before he dares, you move first.

Your reach for him, your fingers delicately tracing the outline of his jaw. He goes rigid, a sharp gasp caught in his lungs. And then, like instinct, like worship—he nuzzles into your touch, breath coming in shallow, uneven bursts.

"You’re shaking," you murmur, thumbing over his flushed cheek. A slow, amused smile tugs at your lips. "Are you really this desperate, Caleb?"

His head jerks in a frantic nod, a strangled noise rising from his throat. His pupils are blown wide and his breath comes in short, uneven bursts. "I am, yes, I am-”

Your fingers drift lower, ghosting down his throat, his adam’s apple bobbing beneath your touch. His pulse is hammering under his skin and his body burning up, melting into every bit of contact like he’d fall apart without it. And he would fall apart without it.

But then—

You pull away.

His reaction is instant. He jerks forward before he can stop himself, a strangled whimper escaping before he can bite it back. But he stops himself right before he touches you, instinct warring with obedience. He knows better than to take without being given.

And that control—his restraint, more than anything, is what keeps you entertained. The sight of the Colonel, wrecked and on the verge of breaking, sends a thrill curling through your body. Yet you only hum, sighing as if you were bored, as if his suffering wasn’t the most intoxicating sight you’ve ever witnessed.

The heat simmering in you darkens, twisting into something deeper, something dangerous for the both of you. A morbid curiosity forms: just how far could you push him before he snaps?

"So…" you muse, tilting your head, feigning thoughtfulness. "You’ll take whatever I give you?"

"Anything, ma’am," he replies without hesitation.

Amused, you chuckle softly, tilting your head as if considering it. Here he is, hanging off your every word, completely at your mercy, willing to do anything for just a sliver of your attention. And just when his breath catches, just when he’s right on the edge of breaking-

You lean in.

Leaning closer, you drink in the sight of him—the unraveling need, the way his chest rises and falls in shallow bursts. You draw a gasp from his throat as your breath ghosts over his skin, his lashes fluttering, lips parting on instinct.

"Reward?" your voice is velvet and steel, soothing and binding him all at once. "And what, exactly, does my good boy think he deserves?"

He stills. You see the moment the question sinks in, the way his mind races to find the right answer, the answer that will please you most. His whole body locks up, his hips stopping, his movements going rigid with obedience. "I want- Please let me- Please let me get off to you, Ma’am- Please, please, I- I've been so good, haven’t I?"

To punctuate the plea, he shifts closer, tilting his head slightly to bare his throat, showing you the claim you left on his shoulder earlier. On his skin is a deep red hickey, an unspoken declaration of ownership. A mark of your control. Of what he lets you, and only you do to him.

Your breath catches, your grip on his chin tightening. Your playful edge dulls into something sharper, something darker—something that twists in your gut, matching the raw, helpless hunger gripping his body.

"And how," you murmur, thumb tracing his lower lip, "does my puppy want to get off?"

His breath stutters.

He knows you know what he wants, knows you’re forcing him to say it. Knows you won’t make this easy for him.

Frustration flashes in his eyes, but he swallows it down, schooling his features into something softer, something needier. Something he knows you won’t be able to resist. A few more pathetic gasps spill past his lips, each one measured to push you closer to giving him what he’s been begging for. His voice trembles, perfectly frayed at the edges, knowing that this will be the undoing for you both.

"Please, I want- I want to rub myself against my mistress’s panties…?"

The hesitation in his words is deliberate, the breathy edge to his voice sharpened just enough to slice through your restraint. He tilts his head just a tad more, the mark on his neck like an offering, his lashes fluttering to give off the look of being lost in submission.

He’s waiting. Waiting for you to give in.

Yet it’s only thick, unbearable silence that stretches between you once more, suffocating his patience.

His cock twitches at the suspension, a sharp pulse of need that sends heat curling down his spine. Every second you make him wait is agony, his body screaming at him to move. His instincts beg him to take, to claim, to fucking have you.

But he doesn’t.

He kneels. He obeys. He waits.

And fuck, if he weren’t so well-trained, he would’ve already had you under him. Would’ve already-

But he doesn’t. He stays still. He bows his head, pressing his forehead to your knee like a supplicant at an altar, forcing himself into the shape you’ve carved him into.

He chooses to be good.

And that is the thrill of it all.

Entertained, your fingers drift along his jaw, barely there. He exhales sharply, his whole body shuddering under your touch. “Hm… is that really what you want, puppy?”

"Yes," he whines—too fast, too eager, and too fucking wrecked to care.

You drag it out, humming, letting the tension coil tighter. “Or, is that what you think I want to hear?”

He stills. And for the briefest second, you see it—the flicker of a dangerous, untamed wolf.

And then just as quickly, he swallows it down. Shoves it away. Forces himself to be what you’ve trained him to be. To what he’s trained himself to be.

But you see it.

And you want it.

So you smile—slow, sharp—and lean in again. Close enough that he freezes. Close enough that your breath grazes his lips, close enough that his whole body locks in anticipation-

And then, you pull away.

The sound he makes is devastating. A raw, half-snarl, half-plea, his fingers digging into his thighs, fighting not to just break.

You coo at his display, your voice syrupy-sweet. “Such a good boy,” you purr, watching him shiver from the praise and restraint. “Holding yourself back so well.”

He clenches his jaw, his shoulders wound as tight as a bowstring. He knows you’re toying with him. Knows you want him to snap.

And god, he wants to. If only he were to tear through the last fraying threads of control. To devour you whole.

But before he can spiral further, you give him relief. He chokes on a gasp as your foot presses down harder against his cock, the pressure forcing his back to arch, his body keeling over and his chin dropping onto your knee. Any words he tries to form dissolve into moans, ragged and broken, as you slip your foot beneath his waistband, rubbing him through his boxers.

His fingers dig harshly into his thighs, blunt nails leaving half-moon crescents in his skin. But it’s the only thing keeping him from losing himself completely. His breath is shallow and unsteady, his whole body trembling, every fiber of him clenched, drawn so tight you can almost hear the tension hum.

You press again, and a strangled sob is torn from his throat as he lurches forward, too overwhelmed to keep himself upright. His forehead presses into your thigh, letting out short, desperate gasps against your skin. The scent of his need clings to the air, thick and intoxicating, and you inhale slowly, savoring the way he crumbles beneath you.

“Oh, look at you,” you murmur, amusement laced with control. “Just falling apart.”

“Poor puppy.” You shift your foot, just enough to make him jolt, to draw out a broken whimper. His thighs clench, his hips jerking helplessly into the teasing press of your sole. You watch his face contort, his jaw tightening, failing to hold onto the last scraps of his composure. As if he isn’t already beyond salvation.

��You’re drooling, Caleb.” Your voice is almost pitying, as if you don’t revel in the way his resolve is splintering.

It’s unbearable. You’re unbearable.

And you know it.

He lets out an unintelligible sound, and your foot presses down harder, sending him keening. His body jerks and ruts into the pressure, his boxers damp and clinging to his cock.

He’s panting, his whole body trembling, and yet still—still, he waits for you to let him fall.

“Please, Ma’am,” he chokes out, voice cracked and thin. His fists clench, the last of his restraint hanging by a thread. “I can’t- I need-”

You tilt his head back with a slow tug of his hair, drinking in the sight of him—his glassy, ruined eyes, the flush burning up his throat, the raw, hopeless hunger etched into his face.

And then you sigh. Soft. Dismissive.

Caleb flinches.

“Hm. And here I thought you were my good boy.” Your nails scrape lightly against his scalp, a ghost of affection before your grip tightens, forcing his head still. “But look at you. Making such a mess. Being so sloppy.”

Panic quickly overtakes his dazed expression. “No, no, I-” His throat bobs as he swallows, hard. “I am good, I swear, I-”

“Are you?” Your voice is measured, cool, watching the way he twists in the silence, watching how his desperation coils tighter at the lingering disappointment in your tone.

He hates this.

Hates when you doubt him.

Hates being anything less than perfect for you

His lips part, searching, pleading. “Please,” he whispers, voice wrecked. “Please let me prove it.”

And that’s what you were waiting for. That’s why you let him dangle, why you let him crack without letting him shatter.

Because now, he’s exactly where you want him.

Desperate. Submissive. Willing to do anything.

And that—that is what you wanted.

Your fingers ease, smoothing over his cheek, and the sheer relief in his expression sends a thrill to your core. You tilt your head, letting a slow, satisfied smile spread across your lips as you revel in the moment. His desperate need is palpable, and you want to draw it out, savor it.

“If you want to prove it,” you hum, dragging your foot away, “then show me.”

Caleb's eyes widen, a flash of excitement breaking through his haze of desperation. You lean back slightly, letting your foot slip off his cock, and that’s the only cue he needs—he scrambles off the floor, caging you between your arms as he shifts closer, pressing his body against yours.

You’re trapped beneath his figure, his weight pressing you into the mattress, yet the desire in his eyes doesn’t phase you. No, not one bit. Not when your hunger matches his, pulse for pulse, breath for breath.

A shudder rips through him as he buries his face in the crook of your neck, breath hot and uneven, tinged with reverence. His body is flush against yours, muscles trembling as he fights to pace himself, to stray from losing control the second he finally has you beneath him.

"Thank you," he whimpers, a prayer against your skin. His lips brush over your pulse, lingering just enough to make you shiver. "Thank you, Ma’am."

His shorts and boxers are discarded to a far corner of the room, leaving him bare against you, his cock pressed flush to the cool silk of your lingerie. Precum smears across the fabric, darkening it with every shallow grind of his hips. The friction is light, teasing—but even that has him shaking. His fingers fist the sheets, muscles locking as he bars himself from losing himself too quickly.

You feel his restraint in every shuddering breath, every stifled moan, the way he fights to take only what he’s given. His forehead rests against yours, your breaths mingling, desire spilling from his parted lips as he moves again, pressing himself against you.

"I-" His voice is wrecked, thick with pleasure and gratitude. His hips roll again, slow, deliberate, rubbing himself against the soft lace stretched over your cunt. He chases your heat like it’s the only thing keeping him sane, savoring every inch of contact. "Feels so good-"

Your fingers trace a slow path down his side, and he whimpers. Even with his body caging yours, it feels like you’re the one pulling the leash wrapped tight around his neck.

"Puppy…you like this, don’t you?" The question is smooth. Knowing.

His whole body jolts, rhythm faltering as another wave of pleasure wracks through him. The words spill from him instantly, raw and full of desire. "Yes, fuck- I do, Ma’am-" His grip on the sheets tighten, his knuckles turning white from the sheer effort of holding himself together, to not fuck into you, to not rip off your panties and sink into your tight heat.

A hot rush of tears gathers in his eyes, his mind spinning further into need. His body moves on its own, grinding deeper, chasing anything that will push him over the edge. His fingers dig into your waist, pulling you closer, as if that will save him.

His pupils are blown wide, the wildness in his gaze unmistakable. He’s right there, teetering, ready to break.

But you don’t move. You let him unravel, let him drown. Every shudder, every desperate twitch, every broken sound is for you. And he knows it.

"Ma’am," he whines, his voice cracking as his rhythm stutters. “I want to- I want to- Please let me-”

Your body responds, heat coiling tight as his breath hitches against you. "Good boy," you murmur, and the way he shudders at the praise sends a sharp pulse of desire straight to your core. “Hm…is my puppy gonna cum so fast?”

“I am,” he cries, a fervent mantra that spills from his lips, hips rocking in that shaky rhythm as he feels you overtake his senses. “Can- May I?”

You hum, dragging your nails down his back, feeling the way his muscles jerk beneath your touch. His breath hitches, a broken moan slipping free, his entire body locked tight with need.

"You may," you purr, your voice dripping with satisfaction. "If you can do it like a good boy—without making a mess."

A sob catches in his throat, his hips stuttering mid-grind as his mind scrambles to process the command. "I- I can, I will- fuck-" His fingers dig harder into your waist, his whole body trembling as he desperately chases his release without breaking the rules you've set.

Every motion is torturous, pleasure crackling through his nerves like a live wire. His cock throbs, aching as he ruts against the silk, the damp fabric dragging against his sensitive length in a way that has him pleading through the choked-off moans spilling past his lips.

"Ma’am, please, please-" His voice is thin, broken apart by desperate little hiccups of pleasure. "I‘m so close, fuck, so close, please-"

His entire face presses against yours, his damp lashes fluttering, his breath hot and uneven against your skin. His grip on the sheets is nearly murderous, his body thrumming with the promise of release.

And then—he breaks.

A strangled sob rips from his throat as his hips jerk forward, his cock pulsing against the silk, the sheer force of his orgasm wracking through him. His whole body tenses then trembles as he spills, soaking through the fabric, painting your lingerie with thick, hot spurts of cum.

You decide to place a hand on the head of his cock, and he shatters all over again as you squeeze, hot tears flowing down his face as he’s sent careening into cloud 9. More cum shoots out of his cock, this time reaching your stomach and tits, your skin stained with his fluids.

His moans turn into soft whines, body twitching with aftershocks as he clings to you, burying his face against your neck, panting raggedly.

You let him catch his breath and settle for just a moment. Then—your fingers fist in his hair, yanking his head back to meet his bleary, wrecked gaze. He fucking yelps, his cheeks streaked with tears as he blubbers over his words.

“M-Miss, I- I-It’s hngh-! too- too good, I-I-” His voice is high, cracking between sobs as he trembles under your grasp. His body is still shuddering from the aftershocks, his cock still hard and throbbing against the soaked silk separating you.

You click your tongue, tilting your head as you drink in the flushed, ruined sight of him, struggling to piece himself together when you both know he's already fallen apart.

"Too good?" you echo, mock sympathy curling around the words. Your grip tightens, nails digging into his scalp just enough to make him wince. "You made such a mess. And here I was, thinking you could be good for me."

Caleb lets out a soft, broken whimper, the humiliation sparking something deeper in his dazed, pleasure-drunk mind. “I- I’m sorry, I…I can be good, I promise- I-I’ll be better the next time-"

"Next time?" you repeat, your voice low and dangerous as you squeeze his cock again, enough to make him jolt, his body writhing from the overload of sensations. "Who says I'll let you have a next time?"

The words hang heavy between you, and Caleb’s eyes widen, a sob escaping him as he scrambles for your forgiveness. He shakes his head, pressing himself closer to you as if he can beg with his body as much as with his words. "No, no Miss- Please, I’m sorry! I’ll do better- I’ll be better, I can prove it to you-!"

Dread floods his already wrecked expression, his hands scrambling to grip at you—your wrists, your waist, anything he can reach as if holding onto you might keep you from slipping away. His words crumble into another sob as he buries his face against your neck, pressing frantic kisses to your skin between shaky pleas. "Please, Miss, I need you, I need to prove it to you, please don’t take it away from me-”

You tilt your head, watching him squirm beneath the weight of your words. Then, just as he opens his mouth to plead again, you drag your nails down his chest, slow and deliberate, making him shudder.

"Anything, huh?"

"Yes- Yes, Miss, anything," he gasps, nodding frantically. "Anything, anything- I’ll be your good boy, your good puppy. I’ll hold myself back, I will, I will-"

A slow, satisfied smirk tugs at your lips. Your grip in his hair tightens once more, pulling his head back further until his throat is bared to you, shaking and vulnerable.

"Then prove it, puppy," you purr, your breath ghosting over his skin. "Right now."

#౨ৎ m's fics! ₊˚ෆ3 #this was originally just sub Caleb but my brain went no.....FORCED sub caleb #yes he is dominating but he also said he'd let us command him....soooooo..........this is us commanding him #caleb x you #caleb x reader #caleb smut #love and deepspace #lads smut #lads caleb #love and deepspace fic #lnds x reader #puppy caleb #sub caleb

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himbodruid · 13 days ago

Text

Caught In The Act

Sylus x Reader

You took advantage of Sylus being away on business to use his bathtub for some…personal time. What you didn’t account for is Sylus arriving home early

Improper use of evol -:- strip tease Sylus -:- wrist binding

🔞 INTENDED FOR 18+ READERS. MINORS DNI 🔞

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𓅨⋆｡°⭑ ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𓅨⋆｡°✩⭑

It sucked. Sylus was away from the N109 Zone on business, and now you had nobody to annoy. Even Luke and Kieran made themselves scarce, leaving you to cause your own solo chaos in Sylus’s house.

You had a three day weekend, and so far you’ve moved most of his furniture three inches to the left. But that was the extent of your creativity when it came to pranks.

Now you were bored again, and sweaty from your shenanigans with Sylus’s furniture. You snickered to yourself while filling Sylus’s massive tub with hot water and fragrant bubbles. Imagining the leader of Onychinus not understanding why he was suddenly bumping into everything gave you a special kind of joy.

You never dared to use this tub during previous visits. In fact, Sylus’s rooms had been off limits to you since the brooch incident. Not because he barred you, but for your own personal reasons. The allure that surrounded that infuriating man like an aura was dangerous, almost as dangerous as he was.

The danger never stopped you from daydreaming about him, of course. That aura only attracted you to him like a moth to a flame. Even when you first met him, you couldn’t help but wonder how good it would feel to have his massive hands on you. And now that his presence was becoming a permanent part of your life, you often wondered about more.

The hot water engulfed you as you sank below the surface, quickly washing your hair and then resurfacing. The sting felt incredible on sore muscles, and you relaxed against the rim with a contented sigh. You closed your eyes and let your mind drift, wondering how often Sylus used this tub. Once, you’d snuck into his room while he was showering to find that damned brooch. And even though he was mostly hidden by the steam, you still got quite the eyeful. Powerful. Invigorating. Beautiful. There were many words you could use to describe him, but you’d never dare to tell him to his face. His ego would probably be insufferable.

You hated to admit that you were attracted to him; to the smooth way he commanded any situation, to the lopsided smirk he often wore around you, all the way to his godsdamned voice. It wasn’t anything wrong with him, no. Your refusal to admit attraction came down to your own foolish pride. That, and you were scared of losing his friendship, of losing your friendship with the twins. The relationship with all three of them was still so new, and you were all too willing to put your own desires aside to keep them in your life.

Which is why what you were about to do would never leave the room. It would be between you and the tiles with none the wiser.

Your hands drifted down your body, imagining it to be his, feeling every curve and valley. Would he appreciate your body, this weapon that you honed through rigorous training? You thought so. You certainly had appreciation for his.

You let out a dramatic little gasp when your fingers found the apex of your thighs. Biting your lower lip with a sly smile spread across your face, imagining that it was Sylus’s elegant fingers dipping into your folds. You thought about his voice, about the rumbling timbre of it, how sexy the grit of it was when he talked to you.

Your heartbeat thundered in your ears as you circled your clit, imagining all the ways you wished Sylus would take you. All the ways you wanted to take him. Your shuddering breath filled the room, echoing off the tile, while you brought yourself closer to the edge. You ran your free hand across your breasts, tugging at your nipples for added stimulation while your body squirmed for more that you couldn’t give it.

His name fell from your lips with a strangled cry. You circled faster, riding out the thrumming release and hoping to make it more than what it was. You finally gave up, only succeeding in making yourself feel somehow even less sated than when you started. Your body hummed with need, but you were too much of a coward to even think about approaching Sylus- not that you even knew how to go about it to begin with. Instead, you would just have to make do with your fantasies and the gnawing disappointment after each unsatisfying climax.

With a wistful sigh, you pulled yourself from the bath and wrapped yourself in a large fluffy towel. You’d thought about finding one of his robes to wrap yourself in, but remembered most of what he had was for lounging and not for bathing. With the tub draining, you grabbed a smaller towel and began to rub at your hair to begin the arduous process of drying it.

“Enjoying yourself, Kitten?”

Startled, you screamed and spun, throwing your hair towel towards the direction of his voice. He didn’t even move to bat it away like you expected. Instead, he let it hit his face with a hearty chuckle.

“Sylus!” You admonish shrilly, willing your thundering heart to calm, while he just casually removed the towel from his face and held it to his nose. With an embarrassed huff, you ignored your state of undress, gathered your discarded clothes and made your escape. His bulk blocked most of the doorframe, but he didn’t move and you had to squeeze past him.

Right as you breached the door, he tugged at your wrist and spun you so your back was against the wall. You dropped the bundle of clothes you were carrying and looked up at him with wide eyes. Leaning on a forearm above your head, he toyed with the wet ends of your hair.

“You didn’t answer my question, kitten. That’s alright, though, because I already know you enjoyed yourself very much.”

“Wha- when did you get back?” You stammer, a blush spreading across your cheeks with mounting horror. There was no way…

“A while ago,” he chuckled, mischief sparkling in his eyes. “I thought to surprise you, but you gave me quite the surprise of your own.”

“Oh gods,” you whine, looking away.

“If I’d known how fond of me you were, I would have come home much sooner.”

“H-how much did you hear?” You were afraid of the answer, and you clenched your eyes closed in a grimace.

“Enough,” he chuckled. He plucked at the part of the towel that was folded in on itself, the part that kept it from falling off your body. He watched you, gauging your expression and your willingness. When you didn’t push him away, he leaned in and…oh, fuck. His lips on yours felt incredible, more than you ever dared to dream, more than you ever dared to hope. The kiss went from slow and testing to hungry and devouring in a matter of seconds.

His hot mouth blazed a trail down your neck, his tongue chasing a water droplet and dipping into the hollow of your throat. Beautifully deft fingers traced your skin along the edge of the towel in feather-light touches that sent shivers through you. His attentions made you bold, and you reached up to unravel the towel, but held it close to your body until Sylus gave pause. He pulled back, eyes locked onto yours while he awaited your silent consent. You were lost to him when you let the towel drop.

Your heart thundered in your chest, like a bird fluttering against your ribcage, as doubt and anxiety swept through you. He kept his eyes on yours for only a moment more before letting his gaze roam your body. The slow perusal sent bolts of heat to your core, and it took vast amounts of effort not to squirm under his scrutiny. His silence as those crimson eyes raked over every curve set you on edge, at least until you detected a hint of a blush beginning at his ears.

“Beautiful,” he purred almost reverently. And then this giant of a man, the leader of Onychinus, sunk to his knees in front of you. The sight of him in his riding leathers, knelt in front of you and peering up at you with a predatory glint to his eye did unholy things to you. When he shuffled your feet apart and moved in closer, you felt like your knees would buckle. Even sitting back on his heels, his face still easily reached your torso. It was no wonder he commanded the room whenever he walked in.

“Tsk, tsk, so swollen, Kitten,” he tutted, gaze resting on the apex of your thighs. His hands, still encased in fingerless gloves, skirted up your legs, under your thighs and then…oh…oh gods. The pad of one of his thumbs pressed against your swollen bud, teasing you. The sharp intake of breath you gave him only made him smirk more.

“No matter, sweetheart, I can make it better,” he purred before leaning in. Eyes locked on yours, he nestled his face right in and replaced his thumb with his tongue. Leaning heavily against the wall was the only way you were able to remain standing, hands balling into fists at your side. You were so intently focused on the way his mouth lathed at you that you didn’t notice his arms snaking around the backs of your thighs from the inside. Then his hands were resting on your hips and he hauled you upwards just enough that your legs were now fully supported on his broad shoulders. Your hands gripped his and you bit your lip to try and contain the sounds threatening to escape.

But fuck, the way he used his tongue, stroking you with it in between suckling kisses. You were glad for the support, because the moment he slipped that sinful tongue between your slicked folds, your legs would have collapsed. You let your head fall back against the wall, finally letting the moans tumble from you unrestrained. You squirmed, trying to buck against his mouth, but he held fast to you and continued working at you until you came to a shuddering end much more intense than the one you had by yourself in the bath. Hands gripped into his hair, you held him there, riding him out until the fluttering of your walls subsided.

It was the first time in a long time that you felt sated like this, but glancing down at his face told you he was far from done with you. Mischief still glittered in his eyes and a lopsided smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. He let your legs fall from his shoulders, but made sure to hold you steady while he stood. You were grateful, since the moment your feet touched the ground, your knees threatened to buckle.

“Hmm, what should I do with you,” he chuckled, dipping his head to kiss you so that you could taste yourself on his lips. “It seems a little unfair that you only moan my name when touching yourself.”

With that, he lifted you easily into his arms, mouth colliding with yours again. He carried you to the bed and then dropped you into the center of it, stepping back and observing you for a second.

And then he gave you that devilish smirk while wisps of his evol snaked around your ankles. The black and crimson shadows solidified the further they crept up your legs, and you were certain you could feel his touch in them. The sensations made you squirm and gasp. They crept further and further until they wrapped solidly around your thighs and then-

You sucked in a gasp when you felt the shadows nudge at your clit, circling it like Sylus had with his mouth just moments before. With a chuckle at your reaction, he began to slowly undress himself while keeping his eyes locked to yours.

First his gloves came off, then he shrugged out of his jacket, the leather dropping heavily onto the floor. Your eyes drank in the skin tight black shirt he wore, raking over the hills and valleys of his torso. It was cut off at the shoulder, allowing for you to see the muscles of his arms unobstructed. He was so unbearably beautiful, and you couldn’t believe this was happening.

You tried to bring your thighs together to put pressure where you wanted, but the strands of darkness held fast to you with surprising strength. So, you brought your hand down in an attempt to circle your clit faster, or even maybe add a finger or two. But his shadows shot to your wrists and yanked them above your head.

“Sylus,” you whined, squirming in the grip of his evol.

“Ah-ah-ah,” he admonished with a chuckle, tugging his shirt off and tossing it aside. “You only get to watch. Let me handle the rest.”

At his words, you felt the swell of his power, the intensity of the shadows clinging to you growing. And then it shifted, sinking into your slicked folds, that swirling energy stroking you as thoroughly as his tongue did. You arch your back, a gasp falling from your lips as your eyes fluttered closed.

“Eyes on me, Kitten,” Sylus commanded with purr. You forced your gaze back to him, watching him unbuckling his belt. He took his time removing his leathers, enjoying the way your eyes widened when he was finally bared to you. He took himself in hand, his cock already standing at attention while he stroked himself. Each slow stroke was punctuated by a surge of his shadows invading you. Those shadows were just a promise of what was to come.

“Sylus,” you beg, unable to form the words to tell him what you wanted. All you could do was squirm and whimper while spread open in front of him. He chuckled, but finally crawled up onto the bed. The weight of his shadows was replaced by him, all of them dissipating except the ones holding your wrists above your head. He blazed a trail of open mouthed kisses up your body before devouring your mouth for a brief, heart-stopping moment.

He sat back on his heels, his large hand skirting down your body, followed closely by his heated gaze. Shivers coursed through you and settled in your core at the hunger that was so openly evident in his expression. His hands settled on your hips, pulling you firmly into him.

“Are you ready, sweetheart?” His voice rumbled through you as a velvet purr, eliciting shivers of anticipation. He notched his cock against your entrance, and then pushed into you with a slow roll of his hips. The feel of his shadows was nothing compared to the way he filled you. Agonizingly slow strokes made your breath hitch. It was so much more than you could’ve ever dreamed, the way his cock dragged along your walls as he pulled and pushed. Definitely better than your own imagination.

“Good girl,” he breathed, his eyes fluttering closed with a groan. “You take me so well, Kitten.”

He shifted his grip so that your legs were hooked over his arms, allowing him to pull you into each of his methodic thrusts. His pace was unhurried, relishing in the sensations each stroke gave. He watched you, taking in your reactions and tilting his head with a sly smirk. You knew your face was heated, but there was no way for you to hide your blush with your wrists still bound.

“S-Sy-“ you whined, squirming in hopes of finding more friction. The torturously slow pace was turning your brain to mush. Your body trembled, gasping breaths puffing from you on whimpered moans. Sylus enjoyed every moment of it, taking pleasure in watching you shudder through each languid stroke.

“That’s more like it,” he crooned when his name began falling from your lips in a throaty pant. He buried himself in you to the hilt, his thrusts taking on a sharper jerk. He barely pulled from you before slamming forward again, granting delicious friction against your clit each time his hips collided with yours. And the gravelly quality of his moans reaching your ears with every thrust, fuck. This was so much more than you ever thought it would be.

Sylus let his head fall back, rocking into you with a steady pace that began to increase in velocity. His moans grew less breathy and more guttural with every strike of his cock against your innermost walls. You watched his body ripple and shudder, watched his muscles bunch and release, watched as his chest began to heave the more he dove into the pleasure.

With his concentration wavering, you were able to free your hands and reach for him. You pulled him down over you, digging your nails into his back while he aggressively rolled his hips into you. His moans, deep and guttural, were now panted against your neck between biting kisses.

Faster and harder, he slammed into you when playfulness died and something more primal took over. You clung to him, arms and legs wrapped around him and your mouth latched onto the slope of his neck. You marked him in multiple places, seeing those purpling spots on his skin sending a thrill through you. Mine, something deep in you claimed him as thoroughly as he claimed you.

Every skillful tilt of his hips as he pistoned in and out of you sent shockwaves of pleasure through you. He brought you right to the precipice and then ushered you over it without pause. The fluttering and trembling of your walls around him, gripping him relentlessly, pulled him over the edge with you. With a harsh growl, he forced himself from you and spilled against your stomach. His lips finally found yours, crashing into you with evident need while his cock twitched and pulsed against you. Deep breaths shuddered through him, through you, as you both came down from the high of release.

“Beautiful,” he murmured as he nuzzled into your neck. Your hands carded through the feather-soft strands of his hair, reveling in the feel of the silky strands against your fingers. You couldn’t help it, you just needed to touch him after months of holding back.

“I could say the same about you,” you reply. He chuckled and pulled back, kissing the inside of your wrist before sitting up again. His eyes raked down your body, a growl of approval escaping him as he flattened his hand against your stomach and spread the mess he made there. You were acutely aware that he was still hard as ever, resting hot and heavy against your pelvis. You couldn’t even be embarrassed anymore at being spread before his greedy gaze.

“Now that my affections are clearer, you don’t need to sneak around. The only time I want to hear you moaning my name is when you’re with me- whether my tongue or my cock is buried in you,” he said, his voice still husky with the promise of things to come.

“Is that a threat?” You asked teasingly.

“A promise,” he chuckled. You smirked up at him, slowly snaking your hand down your body.

“What if I wanted to test that?” You say, feigning innocence. You touched yourself, right there under his narrowing gaze, sighing his name with breathy moans as you circled your clit. He watched that smirk play on your face again, a pretty little blush spreading on his cheeks. It was meant to be nothing more than a tease.

But then a predatory smirk danced across his face and he struck. He slammed himself into you, burying to the hilt with a brutal thrust that ripped a climax from you without so much as a warning. You threw your head back with a harsh cry, body arching off the bed as he held your hips to him. You tried to twist away from him, to escape the pleasure that vibrated through you, but he held fast to you.

And then he toyed with your overstimulation, his hips snapping into you with rapid sharp thrusts. He was thoroughly enjoying all the various sounds that erupted from you and each time you screamed his name, it send an electric jolt through him. He quickened the pace, driving into you and wrenching pleasured cries from you over and over. Your brain was mush and your limbs trembled as wave after wave crashed into you. And when he tried to pull from you to spill himself against your stomach again, you clamped your legs around him and forbade him. You would have all the time later to explain how the association provided specialized birth control, but at that moment you wanted him as deep as he could go.

With a strangled curse, he obeyed and plunged as deep as he could. The twitching pulse of his cock sent you into yet another spiral that had you arching off the bed. Fuck, but he felt incredible when he came in you, and you knew you would never be able to touch yourself again without the visceral need to have him buried deep in you.

“That is…so not fair,” you pant against him once your ardor cooled enough to let you think. He chuckled and bundled you in his arms, rolling so he laid beside you without a care to the mess you were making of the sheets. Exhaustion washed over you, and with no wonder. You were pretty sure you did enough exercise that day to last you the week- between tackling furniture and then being tackled by Sylus.

“I did try to warn you,” he said, brushing a strand of hair from your face and kissing you tenderly; first your lips, then your forehead. You closed your eyes, feeling sleep tugging at you.

Sylus left the bed, much to your disgruntlement, but returned a short while later. You danced at the edge of unconsciousness but could feel him swiping a soft, damp cloth along your body. Later, you would realize he’d been cleaning you up, so that he wouldn’t have to drag you out of bed for a shower. But sleep took you swiftly the moment he laid back down and pulled you into his warm embrace.

Over the course of the next several weeks, you were disappointed to find that Sylus was much more keenly aware of his surroundings than you gave him credit for. He never once mentioned the furniture prank to you, but he also didn’t mention it to the twins.

“Why do we keep running into everything?!” This became a daily exclamation, one that would have you hiding your laughter behind your hand. They never suspected that it wasn’t their sense of surrounding that was failing, but that their surroundings had actually changed.

One particular fit from the twins had you making eye contact with Sylus, and the two of you bursting into laughter once the twins left the room.

They weren’t at all your intended victim, but you were happy your prank didn’t go to waste.

#lads sylus #love and deepspace sylus #lads fic #love and deepspace #lnds sylus #sylus #l&ds sylus #sylus qin #sylus smut #sylus x reader #sylus x you #lads smut #lads x reader #l&ds fic #l&ds smut

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vapekingg · 5 months ago

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eddie munson x fem!reader

It’s like a fucking skin flick, the scene that you and Eddie create on rainy nights spent in the back of his van.

Windows fogged up, water beating down on the roof above you, Joan Jett playing quietly from the radio up front. Eddie’s all touch on nights like this. All heavy breaths and body language.

He’s long peeled off his clothes, every last article, along with yours, and settled between your thighs. Eddie’s forehead rests at the curve of your shoulder, breath heating your already sweat-slicked skin as his hands explore every inch. He acts like it’s his first time every time, and it never gets fucking old.

“Like that, Eds…” Your nails glide along his bare back, fingers dancing over his flexing muscles like the keys of a piano.

Eddie loves when you talk to him. His hips stutter when you moan his name, forearm bracing his body above yours as he lifts himself up. Not much, just enough for him to pull his lips to yours.

His plush, pillowy lips open against your own, tongues finding each other like moths in the night. Cigarettes, weed, and cherry licorice linger on his mouth. It’s your favorite taste because it’s uniquely him.

Eddie cradles your face in his wide hand as he kisses you, his free palm tracing down your soft body until he reaches your thigh. He wants you closer, wants to be deeper, so he pulls your knee over his hip and slots himself there. His throbbing cock nestling against the back of your cunt, massaging that spot that turns your brain right off.

A slew of curses are muffled by his mouth, and you feel his proud smile grow against your lips.

“That good, baby?” He breathes into you.

It barely registers—his words—but when they do, you know what he needs. Eddie pulls his hips back and fucks into you a single hard, unforgiving time, arching your back off of the makeshift bed.

“Tell me it’s good,” he continues, voice strangled and desperate.

And fuck, is it good. Eddie’s narrow waist fits perfectly between your thighs. He never lets you go without, never allows you to feel unsatisfied even for a second. You were made for each other, combined at the rib for at least these sacred moments.

“So fucking good, Eddie…” your labored words are swallowed by his lips, another snap of his hips against yours.

Eddie moves his hand down your body, cradling your hips in his palms and digging his fingers into your soft flesh. He knows you, better yet, he knows what he’s doing to you. The knot that’s been tightening in your abdomen pulls itself again with each rut, each whimper, every nudge of his veins against your slick walls.

A clap of thunder follows a flash of lightening, and his face is illuminated above you. Bangs dripping with sweat, messy curls tied up into a knot at the back of his head or tucked behind his ears. His cheeks are flushed and mouth ajar, eyes heavy and half lidded.

“Wanna fuck you out here all night,” he sighs, mouth no longer moving with accord from his brain. Eddie lowers his lips to the shell of your ear and breathes.

“Make your folks worry their ass off. They’ll have Hops banging down my uncle’s door by morning, and you’ll still be here coming undone for me.”

You begin to move as one, your hips rolling up to meet his with every downward thrust. It’s frantic, uncalculated and messy. The van around you moves in rhythm with your lovemaking, jarring forward and then sinking back against its tires. It’s all closing in, the walls inside your mind inching closer and closer together as something magnificent builds. If Jim’s red and blue lights were to ruin things now, it might just be catastrophic.

“Need you to give it to me, baby.” Eddie rasps, lips sliding over your collar, chest pressed against yours.

And you’re going to. Every time your eyes flutter open, glitter decorates the corner of your vision. You’re right there, just on the edge of oblivion —

— Until he pushes you over.

With the slightest nudge of his hips, Eddie slots himself against your g-spot. He grinds his waist against your core, pressing himself against your clit and sinking his teeth into your flesh. You feel the heat. Your own body warming beneath him, Eddie’s cum spilling inside of you. His hips stuttered and you’re deaf to the obscenities spilling from your own mouth. All you can hear are his.

All the pet names. All the praise. The whimpering and begging for you to take it all. You’ll take it all for him. You always do.

The come down isn’t as quick.

Eddie’s body heaves atop yours as your mind falls back into place. You’re buzzing, every atom in your body vibrating on a microscopic level.

“I think the rain’s stopped, Eds.” You whisper, but Eddie’s already made himself comfortable with his arms locked around your waist and his head on your chest.

“I’ll drive us back to mine in a minute,” he whispers.

“No, Eddie.” You laugh, fingers combing through his damp locks. “I need to go home, I have a curfew.”

Suddenly, you can breathe. Eddie lifts himself off of you and leans over the front seat, light from the radio illuminating his pretty face.

“Curfew was twenty minutes ago, princess.” He smiles while leaning down again.

If you’re already late, might as well make it count. Right?

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson #stranger things #stranger things fic #my writing

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sjyuns · 5 months ago

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FREAK LIKE ME — SIM JAEYUN

boyfriend! jake x fem reader 1040 words warning making out partying skinship vampires miniskirt wearing thigh grabbing biting hickies manhandling jake pushes a pendant with his initial into your skin genre suggestive asf fluff at the end mikaela’s note inspired by THIS edit. jake is the hottest man in my life and this is my belated birthday post to him | collection

Jake’s ring clad fingers sit in your thigh, the cold silver contrasting the warmth of his palm. Yet it was the only comforting thing in the room, aside from your boyfriend’s presence beside you, keeping you distracted from the unusual party scene and your uncomfortably short skirt.

You decide to focus your attention on your boyfriend, who’s come to this belated halloween party dressed as a ‘vampire nerd’, or at least that’s what he calls it. And to no avail you’re matching with him as his vampire mate — a bite mark drawn onto the right side of your neck with matching fangs to complete the look.

“Can’t get enough of my vampire look can you, sweetheart?” Jake teases, pulling you closer to him by your thigh. He watches as your curled eyelashes bat, face flushed a shade of crimson — and it ignites something in him, something so raw and animalistic.

The hold you had on him was exactly why he’s so intrigued by you: like a supernatural spell to keep him wrapped around your finger, to get his heart palpitating whenever he just looks at you. Intoxicated. Despite being his exact opposite, he was intoxicated by you.

You hum in agreement, fingers moving to brush his messy hair back. It was well established that Jake was the best looking man you’ve ever seen in your life. His thick lips and tanned skin, lean yet muscular body along with his accent you could listen to for days — and everyone has told him that, yet he constantly seeks your validation like a lost puppy.

“Well, I think you look ravishing as well,” he grins, fangs on display. And you think that he pulls the vampire personality off too well for your liking.

“Makes me want to bite you,” Jake whispers, lips eerily close to your ears as his fingers move along your thigh, leaving a chilling trail. “Here,” he stops, fingers close to the hem of your skirt.

You hold your breath in hot red anticipation as your boyfriend’s fingers move again, up your waist and to the left side of your neck. “Here,” he breathes, voice slightly strangled as he inhales the inebriating scent of your perfume. His fingers gently caressing the skin of your nape as your fingers wrap tightly around his forearm.

He watches you closely as if you were his prey, his silver contacts pulling you in like hypnosis. Jake’s tongue darts out, pressing against his fangs as he eyes your lips and how you involuntarily imitate his previous actions. Your mauve tinted gloss invites him like a moth to a flame and it drives him insane how you wait for him so patiently, hooked onto his every move.

“And here,” he finishes, out of breath. His veiny hands dancing against your skin to your lips, thumb pressing down ever so slightly on it. You tug on the fabric of his shirt, shifting around in your seat before Jake mutters a string of curse words, pulling you up, fingers wrapped securely around your wrist as he leads you out of the house and into the familiarity of his car.

The squeeziness of Jake’s backseat doesn’t distract you one bit, not when you’re straddled over his lap, arms around his neck, with his hands grasping the dip of your waist. And Jake grins, looking up at you in sheer happiness: it’d suddenly hit him that he’s here, with you and his mind goes haywire at the way you look at him.

“You gonna kiss me now baby?” he teases, urging you to make the first move and you move down fast, urgently, as if he was air and you were ten feet deep in water. And Jake has never gotten so lost in a kiss before: his heart keeps missing beats and his hands can’t seem to bring you closer to him. His senses ignite and his skin burns at your touch — as if he was a vampire and you were sunlight. He thinks if this was what it feels like to be burned alive, he would gladly surrender himself to such suffering as long as he could be with you.

Your hands manoeuvre around his back, fingernails grazing as you let out a soft moan. The silence around you explodes and a world of colours appears before your closed eyes.

Jake pulls away, the heat of his breath pounding against your lips before he pulls you back in again. This round it’s slow, as if he has all the time in the world, every thought in his brain stripped out and replaced with you.

you. you. you. you. you.

He groans into the kiss as you shift on his lap, thighs pressing against his as his fangs sink into the pillow of your lips before he kisses down to your collarbones.

Your fingers now wrapped around his luscious brown locks as your head tilts back in ecstasy, brain and heart chanting Jake’s name like a mantra in fervent praise, as if he was their God, their saviour.

Jake thinks everything he’s ever craved for is nowhere near comparable to you. This is what it was to crave — to crave your body against his even though there was no space between you, to crave the sweet taste of your skin and lips not even a millisecond after he’s pulled away, and to crave you: your heart, your mind, your soul.

His mouth skillfully leaves behind a trail of love bites before he flips you over. You back pressed against the seat of the car as Jake hovers over you, his necklace with your initials dangling over you: a reminder of his devotion to you.

Jake leans down to press his lips against the pendant of your necklace — a reminder of your devotion to him. The cursive ‘J’ initial digs into the neck of your throat as he returns, a goofy smile apparent on his face.

“You’re such a freak, sweetheart,” he points out playfully, eyes gazing into yours.

You mimic his grin, teeth out in display as you reply, “but you like it.”

“Like it?” Jake tilts his head, placing a chaste kiss on your forehead, “I love it, just like I love you.”

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jester-privilege · 3 days ago

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I've been trying to do more colouring, especially to find ways to practice lighting in different styles. This is from one of our AUs, called Do You Come Here Often - Robotnik meets Stone, a bartender, during a painfully boring charity gala and they hit it off.

I wrote a short story based on our RP, so I'm putting it under the cut below!

A charity gala. A waste of time, that’s what it was. Something to stroke the already grossly swollen egos of the guests, most of whom just loved masquerading as philanthropists for the tax cuts.

It was well below Doctor Robotnik, and yet, he’d been forced kicking and screaming into a suit to sweet-talk potential investors. There was going to be reckoning once he was back in the lab. Maybe he’d launch the latest incompetent assistant into space.

“ - and another thing - do you use that - that stuff, that comes from babies -”

Then there was this asshole. Trapped into a conversation, Robotnik could barely maintain his rictus grin as he leaned his elbow on the bar counter, listening to the gormless, chinless man yammer on and on. Rich, politically active, and an absolute imbecile. Robotnik was going to strangle him with his stupid bowtie.

“Because let me tell you, pal,” his conversation partner slurred. “When I’m a senator, I’m - banning all that shit. It’s not right - it’s just wrong, you know -”

“Yes, we wouldn’t want the harmless salvage of iron rich cells from biowaste,” Robotnik muttered under his breath.

“Yeah!” The other man gestured, coming dangerously close to spilling his watered down whiskey. “You get it - good man - what was your name again, Robot - something?”

“Doctor Robotnik,” Robotnik said, in clipped tones.

The man chortled. “Oh come on, you’re not a real doctor.”

Robotnik squeezed his martini hard enough to hear it crack. His smile grew wider, his pupils narrowing. He was going to -

“Gentlemen! Do I spy empty glasses?” a perky voice interrupted them. Robotnik turned, stiffly, and stared at the bartender - a rather handsome, well-groomed man with dark, twinkling eyes.

Robotnik’s conversation partner blinked, and looked down at his nearly empty glass. “Oh, well spotted, boy. Whaddya recommend?”

“May I recommend you try my special blend?” the bartender suggested, his voice lowering an octave as he slid forward a glass, his movements mesmerisingly precise. “I promise it has a kick like you won’t believe.”

The man chuckled, reaching for the fresh drink. “Just so you know, I don’t believe in tipping,” he said, as if gunning for the title of world’s most loathsome man, and downed half of the drink in one go.

The bartender smiled peacefully.

“Bit of a weird aftertaste,” the man slurred. He blinked, suddenly tilting forward sharply. A hand shot out, and the bartender grabbed the man’s hair, guiding his head to rest on the counter.

“There we are,” the bartender said cheerfully. “Nice and easy. Now,” and he leaned back, smiling at Robotnik like he hadn’t just drugged his customer. “What can I get you, Doctor Robotnik?”

Robotnik took a moment, blinking as he adjusted - and then raised his eyebrow. He was, despite himself, curious. “Not - what, a mix of ketamine and benzo?”

“Trade secret, I’m afraid,” the bartender said, smiling. The man in the next stool snored loudly. Robotnik stood up, moving a few spaces over, and the bartender followed him.

“I supposed you did save a life,” Robotnik said, haughtily. “His, I mean. How do you know my name?”

“I heard the other gentleman mention it,” the bartender said. “Of course, I did recognise it.” As he spoke, he pulled out a glass, pouring in some ice. “I remember reading your paper on hive mind artificial intelligence. I always wondered whether you ever built anything based on your theories.”

If Robotnik had been curious before, he was now drawn in, like a moth to a flame. Of course, there was a good chance he was going to get murdered tonight. “You read my - “ He paused, taking a moment to lower his voice and curb the enthusiasm. “Early prototypes showed some information lag,” he said, warily. “I’ve made some adjustments to the data compression and prioritisation - out of curiosity, how much of it did you actually understand?”

The bartender, in the midst of pouring something in the glass, blinked. “Most of it, I assume,” he said. “I did have to make some notes, to research and fully comprehend it, but - you’re a very entertaining writer, Doctor. I enjoyed your footnotes.”

Robotnik’s footnotes were exclusively reserved for insulting other researchers. He found himself smiling, crookedly. “There’s a functional hive now.”

The bartender looked startled, and then smiled, his teeth flashing. “Seriously? That’s amazing. How many?”

Robotnik shifted in his seat, starting to find his groove. “Three main hives, inter-connected via slow transfer - much faster on their intra-network. Fifteen, thirty-three and hundred and seven, respectively. It would be much more if my budget wasn’t decided by mouth-breathing knuckle-draggers.”

“That’s still respectable numbers,” the bartender responded, enthusiastically. “I’d love to see them in action some day.”

“Oh, would you now?” Robotnik smiled. “Which country are you spying for?”

To his surprise, the bartender laughed.

“I wish I was in espionage,” the bartender said dryly. “I’m just a fan, Doctor. Personal interest - I saw some of your earlier work, in the field, a few years back.”

“In the field?” Robotnik raised an eyebrow. “What sort of field does a bartender end up in, exactly?”

“None whatsoever,” the bartender replied, mouth curling. “I was a mercenary. Gun for hire.”

“And now you’re bartending?” Robotnik asked, skeptically.

“Well, I did just kill that guy,” the bartender said easily, nodding to the slumped figure a few seats away. “So after I clean up here, that’s my night done.” He smiled. “I’m Stone, by the way.”

“...Pleasure,” Robotnik said weakly. He stared at Stone. He thought for a moment.

“So,” he said, clearing his throat. “A fan. Don’t tell me you’ve only read one of my papers.”

Stone pushed a drink towards Robotnik, smiling slyly. He was rather handsome, in a well-groomed, fit and conventionally attractive way, Robotnik had to admit.

“Of course not, Doctor. That one was just my favourite - well, besides the one you wrote about applied nanotechnology -”

“That one was utter garbage,” Robotnik said, waving his hand as he accepted the drink. “I’ve since scrapped it, started fresh with a new approach - the new paper is nearly done, if you -” he stopped himself, feeling the skin under his collar heat up.

“If I what?” Stone asked curiously.

“If you want to read it,” Robotnik said stiffly. “You said you were nearly done here, right? How about we blow this popsicle stand and - you come over to my hotel room, and I can show you a thing or two?”

To his confusion, Stone went momentarily quiet, his eyes widening, before the other man stammered out a reply.

“I - I’d love to! If you’re sure - I mean, I swear I’m not a spy - I just heard you were here, so I took on this gig in the hopes of catching a glimpse, I didn’t -”

Robotnik raised his hand sharply, starting to feel uncomfortably warm. “Bzzzt! I’m well aware this is an honour for you! Save the yammering for later - I want to get out of here.”

Stone had been handsome before, but he was much more so when he was flustered. Not that Robotnik cared about that - it was just rare to meet anyone who admired his work, let alone understood even half of it. He might as well use the rest of his night for something pleasant.

“Okay, sure,” Stone said, clearly breathing slowly to calm himself down. “Uh - I have some protection on me, if we need it,” he added, shyly.

Robotnik snorted, standing up, starting to already pull off his cursed bowtie. “Maybe for yourself, Stone. I have no need for it.” He paused, momentarily tempted to introduce Stone to his gloves - but decided against it. He’d have plenty of time for it back at the hotel, away from spying eyes.

Behind him, Stone all but rushed from behind the bar over to him, hurrying to catch up with Robotnik’s long strides. He was blabbering on about hoping they weren’t moving too fast - as if Robotnik couldn’t get out of here fast enough. He glanced back at the other man, his chest tightening briefly at Stone’s earnest expression. Stone really was stupidly good-looking. He supposed that would be nice to look at, while they went over his papers.

#stobotnik #i'm also trying to get back into writing groove so here we go #a bit of both #by the way with our roleplay i play stone #and bram plays robotnik #they do make an excellent robotnik #i'm a simp in real life too lmao

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smileymoth · 7 months ago

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As much as i harp on etf ronnie being so good, craig also has a rly good voice okay !!!!!!!!!!! ASSHLLEEYYYY BABYYYY

#moth post #i desperately need to know who wrote the lyrics for their first album. bc the whole band is credited on tje cd #and im like. hmmm. bc ronnies own lyrics kinda suck okay #hes got some bangers but #SORRY I KEEP TALKING ABOUT RONNIE IM BEING STRANGLED BY DYINGISYOURLATESTFASHION OKAY 😭😭😭

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animeyanderelover · 1 year ago

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Yay, your recs are open! Hope you're doing great and your health is good :)

This one is pretty dark, so ignore this if smth!

If you know about Tomie, could you do some jjk characters of your choice with a darling with similar powers? Like, she can't die fully, always returns no matter how cruel was her death, and for some reason all non-sorcerers are going crazy after being in contact with her for a some time – and, maybe, at some point even a yandere starts feeling a strange need to cause harm to her. Bonus points if she gives femme fatale vibes, but actually is much sweeter and kinder person than she may look.

Thanks, and have a great day!

I hope you don't mind that I made the darling in here the curse of obsession because this would fit the theme very nicely and would crank the Yandere scale to an incredibly creepy level. I know a bit about her since my best friend is a huge fan of Junji Ito works and she especially adores Tomie and Uzumaki.

Tw: Yandere themes, unhealthy mindset, toxic relationship, possessive behavior, obsession, delusional behavior, manipulation, isolation, abduction, death of s/o, murder, mentions of cannibalism, nudity, mentions of dub-con, sexual themes, starvation

The curse of eternal obsession

Okkotsu Yuta

💍Walking through the streets of Tokyo, no human would suspect you to be the cursed being that you are. Instead there is an aura of allure and mystery around you, something that seems to draw them to you like a moth to a flame. Bound to be consumed by the fire. Yet Yuta seems to bring a quick end to your life when he senses your eerie cursed energy. There are no words spared as he attacks you, your calm and beautiful face chilling as he exorcises you as if you have lived through death already multiple times before. Your face is something that seems to be stuck in his mind as it is the thing he sees as soon as he closes his eyes. It agitates him, disturbs him but he tries to calm himself by reminding himself that he has already killed you. Until he meets you again in the middle of the fight as you sit on the ground, surrounded by the blood of two men who have stabbed each other to death. When your eyes meet his own, there is the same serene look on your face as Rika brutally assaults you and Yuta watches how she tears you apart, a lump in his throat.

💍You should be dead. He watched how Rika murdered you. He even murdered you one time himself. Yet only a few days later you stand in front of him again, greeting him politely before you walk away, your hair swaying in the wind. Yuta can only watch you with a racing heart whilst you disappear in the crowd. A few days later he receives word that a group of friends were found all dead. The police suspects that all of them strangled and beat each other to death in violent ways that are rare to find and his mind immediately suspects you to be the culprit. Whenever you appear it only takes a few days before news about violent deaths and gruesome suicides appear on the news as your mere presence seems to drive non-sorcerers to madness yet he has seen with his own eyes that you seem to possess an immortality unlike anything he has ever seen. To protect the public from your cursed energy, he captures you the next time he finds you.

💍Yet when he tracks you down he is witness to a violent crime that would have made the average person empty their stomach. Even Yuta can't help the creeping feeling of horror as he watches a woman dismembering you with a saw before she cuts her own neck with the saw until she dies of blood loss. There is a strange sense of fury flowing through his veins as he collects every part of you, his heart clenching when he picks up your head with dull and lifeless eyes yet to his great disturbance even dismembered and dead, you still possess an attractiveness that he shouldn't feel about a violated corpse. He locks all of the parts away from you instantly and stays away from the room you are in to clear his mind and get away from the cursed energy you still seem to produce even in your temporary death. He can't get a wink of sleep that night as his heart never stops pounding nor does he seem to get your face out of his mind. When he gathers the courage the next morning to peek inside the room, his heart tumbles when he sees that you have regenerated and sit there completely naked, the sight of your body sending sparks of arousal through his body before he hurries up to give you something to wear.

💍He keeps you there, locked inside the basement and stays as far away from you as possible. He has never encountered a curse such as you that has affected him as greatly as you do and he has to fight constantly against the temptation to see you as he finds himself standing in front of the door separating you from him multiple times a day, his nails digging into his palms as he bites his lips until he can taste blood. Even when he is not seeing you, Yuta can still sense the cursed energy of yours that is wrapping itself around his body like a snake and as weeks pass by, he finds himself falling asleep to horrifying fantasies about you that have him waking up drenched in sweat and with a raging boner that only throws him down into a spiral of disgust, shame and insanity. Until one day after roughly three weeks your cursed energy disappears. He should feel relieved about it yet his heart drops with such intense anxiety that has him nearly ripping out the door leading to your room. As soon as he sees your thin and dead body laying on the ground, he feels something shattering as he suddenly bursts out in tears. He starved you to death.

💍He carries your light and thin body to his own bed and lays you down before he waits. He sits there and waits for hours in agony until your cursed energy picks up strength again and your body regains its healthy and otherwordly beauty. As soon as your eyes flutter open, Yuta's face is the first thing you sees. His heart starts beating with excitement as he tells you that he will prepare something to eat for you before he rushes to the kitchen. It is only after he has prepared the food and serves it to you that he realises what he is doing and for a short moment he feels a spark of hot wrath that you have reduced him to this yet when you open your mouth and he hears your voice for the first time, his anger melts away. It is a soft and sweet sound that echoes in his mind long after you have told him your gratitude for the food. An infatuated smile appears on his face as he watches you eat the food before he asks you if you would like to take a bath. The following days you suddenly get a lot more freedom, although you are still kept within the house but that isn't solely because you are a threat to non-sorcerers anymore. It is also because Yuta feels a possessive yearning to see you whenever he wants.

💍You are unlike any curse he has ever seen. Not only are you beautiful and gorgeous but you are also soft-spoken, kind and even somewhat shy. You help him with the household as you insist on showing your gratitude by preparing him meals and washing his clothes to the point where Yuta feels like you are his housewife and that image has his heart racing and his body reacting. You insist on sleeping on the couch when Yuta offers you to share a bed with him as you don't want to breach his private space and you reject it until he snaps at you with a frightening look on his face and a tight grip on your arms that could break bones. He instantly withdraws his hands when he regains his sanity and apologises hastily to you with tears in his eyes. He clings to your warm body at night, taking deep whiffs of your scent. Everything about you drives him crazy, the feeling of your skin against his electrical. There is a constant arousal keeping him half-hard at night as temptation grows stronger until he starts dry-humping against your thigh or ass, praying that you are asleep. Until you one night run your fingers soothingly through his hair whilst he is humping, causing him to let out a choked moan as he cums.

💍Yuta spends weeks on cloud nine as he fully indulges in everything. He treats you like his precious wife as he buys you cute dresses and even gifts you a ring which he insists for you to wear. You never deny him anything as you allow his touchy behavior as he holds your hands, kisses you and eventually even has sex with you and this fuels Yuta's delusion that you feel the same as he does. It is almost sickening how sweet he acts with you. All until one day he crosses paths with an acquaintance who knew someone who came in contact with you and when Yuta finds out that they know about your existance, he suddenly feels a feeling of paranoia about your safety as he suddenly sees this non-sorcerer as a threat to you. He feels the urge to call out Rika but decides to pry for information for now. They open up to him, perhaps because they just want to tell someone who shows interest as no one has believed them so far and the story that they tell him shatters his pretty delusion. They tell him how their dead ex-lover left them for you, abducted you and apparently even had sex with you and how they called them moments before they jumped from a building to tell them in tears that they ended up killing you.

💍Yuta lets Rika kill that person within the same day as a wrath has suddenly festered inside of him. At first he believes that they are lying because you only love him and you would never allow another person to touch you the same way he touches you. You love him. But when he sees their corpse, a realisation slowly settles in. You are a curse. A curse that has always driven people mad and Yuta is no exception. He's just killed an innocent non-sorcerer. And it's your fault. Disgust, pain and wrath cause him to spiral down violently as he all but storms back to his house to murder you and take revenge on you for deceiving and using him. When he arrives home, he finds you asleep on the couch and for a moment his eyes just take in your beauty as you lay there so innocently before his gaze zooms in on your neck. In the next moment he is choking you, his body on top of yours. Your eyes fly open as you start whining and choking whilst he is watching you with a dark glint in his eyes, taking in with joy your suffering form. Then your eyes meet his own though. No shock, ne fear, no guilt. Instead all he sees inside those orbs is acceptance and pity. You are pitying him.

💍It is this look in your eyes that throws him off as he lets go and stumbles away from you, staring at you with shock and agitation. Why are you giving him this look?! You don't say anything as you instead just give him a sweet smile that tears his heart open. What kind of monster are you to deceive him even now? You know how much he adores that smile of yours. He's on the verge of crying as he pulls out his katana to dismember you but then he suddenly freezes. His wrath dies down as he stares at the katana in his hands and his eyes widen as he drops it and sinks down on his knees as he suddenly becomes aware of his own horrifying thoughts he just had. He just looks at you for a few minutes before he suddenly bursts out in tears when he seems to realise something. That you never had any choice but allow people to do what they want to do with you. Your own curse brings you as much misery as everyone around you and your immortality forces you to endure it over and over again. You are a victim. He crawls back on top of you and apologises to you whilst his hot tears fall on your face, promises you in between sweet kisses on your neck that he will never harm you again.

Gojo Satoru

🩵There you are, walking through the streets together with a man following you with infatuated eagerness as he constantly points at stores and offers to blow all of his money on you yet you only shake your head politely. Your cursed energy isn't oppressing nor is it filling the entire area but Satoru can sense how potent it is as he happens to be in the same area as you. He's currently there to buy something for his students when he senses you and blue eyes instantly race over the crowd to detect the source of it. An exceptionally beautiful man himself, even he can't deny your sheer beauty as he finally finds you. He watches as you point to a store selling candy and the man who is accompanying you eagerly nods his head before he rushes to buy you something. You seem to observe him for a while before you turn your head in an inhuman way and your own glowing eyes meet Satoru's as you have recognised his presence as well and want to let him know about it. Your cursed energy spikes and Satoru wonders if he will have to use his Domain Expansion if you decide to attack but you don't seem to plan on doing so as you crack your head back and wait with folded hands for the man to return.

🩵Something about you is off though, majorly off, so Gojo decides to follow you. You have clearly seduced the man who seems to be on all four for you and Satoru doesn't blame him. You are beautiful and gorgeous as even your cursed energy is tempting but that won't stop Gojo from exorcising you. He is even bold enough to approach you when your victim leaves you alone for a moment to murmur in your ear that you appear quite calm despite the fact that you know that he is following you. You only glance at him briefly and Satoru almost drowns in those enchanting eyes of yours before a loud yelling interrupts him. So lost was he in your gaze that he didn't even notice the man returning. If looks could kill, Gojo would have died thrice now as he can quite literally see the man shaking with rage and for a few seconds Gojo is convinced that he will come for his throat before the man just grabs your hand violently and drags you away. Blue eyes narrow as Satoru waits for a while before he decides to trail after you again. He suddenly has a bad feeling about this and eventually he finds out the apartment where the man apparently lives. He's already standing in front of the door when the commotion suddenly starts.

🩵Loud screams and wails belonging to the man are heard, crying out your name before they are followed by screams of pain and the shattering of a window. That's when Gojo breaks the door open and the scene he sees inside is not pretty. Shards of a broken vase are stuck in your neck and even your now deformed face and the shattered window is painted with red blood from the now dead man who must have hit his head against it until it broke and he died. Yet Gojo can still sense the cursed energy from you, can almost feel it crawling towards his own body. He watches your bloody form alarmed, something warning him that something truly isn't right with even though he can't figure out what it is. When he notices your fingers twitching and your body twisting, he acts quicker than he can even react as he kills you and senses your cursed energy vanishing completely. A few days later he decides to visit the graveyard of the man as he has for some reason not been able to forget about you. When he senses a familiar cursed energy though, he feels his muscles tensing as this shouldn't be possible. Yet there you are, kneeling in front of the graveyard.

🩵He is instantly behind you, throwing a shadow over you as his hands linger over your head as if considering to rip it off yet he doesn't as his eyes narrow in confusion and wariness. You are supposed to be dead. Why are you still alive? You lean your head back to look at him and only greet him politely before you arrange the flowers you have brought with you on the man's grave before standing up again and leaving. The white-haired man stops you though as he grabs your arm so tightly that your bone might break as he asks you how you are still alive. You cascade your gaze very shortly down to the ground, seemingly reminiscing about something, before you meet his intense gaze. He could swear that you almost look a bit sad as you merely tell him that you are eternal. You hold his gaze for too long until he feels threatened to get lost in those eyes again which causes him to let go of you. Blue eyes are glued to your form as you walk gracefully away, his eyes roaming over the shape of your body until he can't sense you anymore. Only then does he feel the urge to follow you die down a bit.

🩵He is almost ashamed of his own lack of self-control when he senses your energy a few weeks later again and the urge to see you again just takes over him. Truth is, he has been thinking about you a lot ever since. Your mysterious words have stuck with him as he has been trying to figure out what you meant and your hypnotising gaze has been following him in his sleep. He is shocked to find you though. Half-naked and with deep cuts littering your skin as you are held down by the neck as the man above you traces a long knife down the curves of your body. Briefly he is reminded of your deformed face and bloody body when he met you for the first time and suddenly rage starts to cloud his vision. A hot wave of jealousy falls over him for the way the man touches you so closely and ire takes hold of him for it looks like he is about ro rape you. Gojo knocks him instantly out, perhaps a bit too strong as blood starts seeping from his head. He quickly offers you the jacket he is wearing to cover your bare upper body with before he grabs your wrist and tells you that you'll come with him. You beg him to call an ambulance for the man before you come with him and Satoru is surprised to hear those words.

🩵He almost doesn't want the man to receive help but then he snaps out of it and gives you his phone to call the ambulance. It is strange that a curse wants to help a human, especially since that human looked like he was about to sexually force himself on you and kill you at the same time. You are indeed very strange and he finds himself looking at you the entire time out of curiosity and since your beauty is very outstanding. He should kill you but he has already tried this and somehow you just appeared again so he has a feeling that it wouldn't work even if he would try again. He doesn't want to kill you for some reason though. Instead he brings you to his home and tells you that he wants to keep you in here until he has figured out what you are and what to do to you. You give him a silent nod before you ask him if there is anything you can do whilst he keeps you here and this is not what Gojo expected to hear. You really are a peculiar curse. He monitors you very closely the following days as you walk around the house to memorise the interior and every room and whe he realises that you seem to have a love for books, he ends up buying you entire shelves worth of them. The giddy grin you give him has his heart pounding.

🩵You are well-read and seem to have existed for quite a long time already as far as Satoru can tell from the knowledge you share with him. As much joy as it gives him to see you happy, he starts feeling jealous that you spend so much time reading books. He wants attention, more attention than you already give him. It just isn't enough. It escalates very quickly when you one day ask him to wait until you have finished this book. Only a few pages are left yet somehow those words make Satoru snap as he snatches the book out of your hands and rips it apart. Blue eyes ablaze with agitation yet also a familiar look to you as he bends down so that he is on eye height with you. Hands grab your own harshly, squeezing them as he tells you in a low voice that he despises if you ignore him. You look into his gorgeous eyes, seemingly unfaced from the way he glowers at you before you carefully free one of your hands and reach tentavively out to touch his face. His Infinity is already deactivated, allowing you to touch his face. He lets out a satisfied hum as one of his hands grabs your one touching his cheeks, blue eyes gleaming as he looks at you.

🩵His Infinity around you is mostly deactivated as he encourages you to touch him as much as he is already touching you. Your touches are warm and addictive and he seemingly can't get enough of them. Often you find yourself trapped beneath him, his arms wrapped around your waist and his head on your chest. You sometimes asks him what he plans to do with you as he is a sorcerer and you are a curse yet he always shuts you up, mostly by kissing you to silence all of your sounds. He does know that technically he should find a way to exorcise you or to at least seal you away yet his whole body is filled with rage when he considers it. He has to keep you a secret from other sorcerers under all means necessary. Not only because of their demands but also because he fears that they would desire you too for your beauty and gentle nature. He notices that you never seem to protest or stop him whenever he becomes very touchy and as sick as that is, Satoru finds himself abusing this. Within a short time he is able to fully indulge in his desires as your nude body is pressed against his own, teasing you here and there as he claims you for himself. He has never seen someone more beautiful than you.

🩵Satoru is almost drunk on you and every word and gesture you do as he is convinced that he would kill anyone who would try to take you away from him. Yet the willingness of yours to let him do whatever he wants with you soon turns into a festering jealousy as he starts wondering if you allowed all the people before him to do everything to you as well. He shouldn't care considering that your curse seems to make people naturally obsessed with you and that he isn't the first and most likely not the last one yet he has already fallen under your spell. His heart threatens to burst as he realises that he will fade whilst you will continue. He won't let anyone else have you after him! You are assaulted by him whilst you are changing clothes, a desperate look in those blue eyes as he begs you to tell him how he can murder you as he tells you about his wish to kill you when his time comes so that no one else will be able to have you after him. When you confess to him that you don't know how you can die, you see the anger and madness flaring up in his eyes as if he is about to attempt to murder you again then and there before he manages to regain his self-control and tells you in a sweet tone that he'll find a way.

#yandere jujutsu kaisen #yandere jjk #yandere yuta #yandere okkotsu yuta #yandere gojo #yandere gojo satoru #yandere x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader

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tadc-harlequin-au · 9 months ago

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Touch-Starved (canon)

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otherwise known as; the part where The Puppetmaster finds out he has THE FEELINGS(™, patent pending) for the Combat Harlequin. lmfao

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"Almost..." His hand trembled at the last piece required. He carefully slotted the optics in place, and twisted the eye multiple times to stick it in place. Within moments, he steps back, and Bubble flared up alive again, checking out his new, updated vision. “Wow! I can see more colors now!” The Blimp spun in place.

“Those new eyes should allow you to broadcast anything you see to me, if I so wished.” He explains, pulling out a small, thin black screen from one of the the desk’s many compartment. He switches it on, and Bubble’s eyes suddenly have a tiny red dot blinking in the middle of it.

So far, so good. The device was working as intended and he could see the top of his dentures from Bubble’s perspective, making Caine grin proudly.

“You may proceed to do your chores once more, the upgrades are done.” He sends the blimp to his merry way, and Bubble only nods before turning away to make his way out of the office. He leans back with a content sigh and closed eyes, satisfied with the work done for the day.

At that very moment, Pomni also opens the door.

She looked… disheveled, to say the least.

“Oh hey Pomni!” The butler blimp greeted with his usual reply. The Harlequin only sent him a look of acknowledgement, knowing that it’s useless to try to spark up a conversation, as Bubble was already making his way out.

Caine blinked once, and then he blinked twice just to make sure he’s seeing things right.

Was she always this… dazzling? Literally? He could see sparkles forming everywhere.

She flipped her hair in a messy attempt to get rid of the strands currently stuck to the skin of her nape. Her trademark golden ponytail missing, most likely a B.O.S.S.’s doing. She made her way to Caine’s desk and he swears he could feel his heart beat faster and faster with each step she took. The Harlequin’s trademark squinted brows with half-lidded eyes meeting his own wide stare, a gaze that would typically make any person with a still-functioning sanity cower in fear.

She took a seat on his desk with her legs crossed and her back turned against him and leaning on her right arm, as she usually did.

“Here’s the die you asked for. Took me a bit, but still got the job done.” She checked her left arm for damages after she placed the multi-colored puppet heart in front of him, while she flashed her teeth with a victorious, smug smile. His words are caught in his throat and her entirety shines too brightly for him. He couldn’t understand it.

Why… did she seem like a flame, and he felt like an unsuspecting moth, drawn to her light?

He shook his head clear and forced his stare away from her direction, clearing his throat while clutching the die. “I-I see, thank you, Pomni. You-you’ve done… a… wonderful…” Her hand grasped his own and his heart leapt at his own throat. Her synthetic, calloused fingers felt so rough, yet so gentle against his own gloved ones that he considered taking them off.

“...j-job.” His breath hitched as he struggled to finish the end of his sentence, unable to tear his attention away from her eyes. He found himself gawking at her intense, golden eye matched with blue and red pinwheel ones.

“Aren't you forgetting something, Puppetmaster?” Her expression questioning, yet with a slight and subtle undertone of mischief glinted at her optics.

He couldn’t speak. He struggled to form coherent words. It felt like he was being strangled by an unknown force clutching at his neck, yet there was clearly no malice behind it.

“Wh… What am I forgetting…?” He asked in such a feeble tone that made her chuckle in such a low rumbling tone, snaring his full attention.

“Well, I think that I deserve a reward for my services. Don’t you think?” She stands up. Warm hands suddenly felt so cold and empty, and already he missed the warmth present just about a second ago. The Harlequin made her way towards him as he spun his chair to meet her halfway. Hand at her hips as she towered over his sitting form. He’s all of a sudden clutching at the armrest so intensely.

“Y-yes, of course! H-how could I forget!” He nervously chuckles, he would pull on his collar right about now. “What is it you wish to be rewarded with?”

He offers her his best smile, and she giggles as she shakes her head. Without any warning, she took a seat on his lap, and he went frozen. As if making one single move would shatter the very fabric of the universe. She leaned her head to his shoulder, fiddling with the collar of his shirt then her fingers trailed onto the underside of his chin to make him look at her. He shivered from the contact.

“You.”

He trembled as his face warmed up to uncontrollable degrees, and produced visible heat waves. Not even his self-installed coolants were helping him tone down the sudden rise in his body temperature in the slightest. He couldn’t control his shakes, making the Harlequin smirk, knowing that she had the Puppetmaster all wrapped around her finger.

He didn’t know what came over him, because now his own hands were making their way onto her thighs to pull her closer to him entirely, the other shakingly placing itself onto her shoulders and he could feel the way she sighs contentedly against his touch. He exhales a shaky breath himself, attempting to steel himself.

“M-my dear, a-are you positive that… that is what you’d like?”

It was better to be safe than sorry. She sits up straight, and for the first time, he regrets ever asking that question in the first place.

“Actually…” Her voice trails off playfully, while she stands up. “... Maybe I’d like something more.”

It only took her a finger underneath his chin to pull him as she leads him to a nearby wall. As if his own body had a mind of it’s own, he pins her in place with both arms adjacent to her head. His face leans in closer and closer to her with eyes closed, and she’s leaning up close to him, fully ready to accept his advances.

Pomni’s soft lips met his teeth, and Caine could smell the faint traces of grass and sweat rolling down from her synthetic skin, evident of her hardships from the recent battle. She wrapped her arms around his neck, and his loops around her waist to pull her closer, while the other cups at her face intensely. He savored her mouth as their breathing became heavy and fast-paced, only breaking apart for a mere second, gasping for air before delving back in to their desires.

Desire…

Quite the accurate depiction of how Caine truly felt for the Harlequin at this moment. He couldn’t quite decipher when this had started, though.

As if her intentions were to pry him away from his overbearing and unnecessary thoughts, Pomni pushed him away to pin him to the wall this time, continuing the liplock. He grunts from the impact, but gladly returns her enthusiasm with fervor as he loops his arm around her back, pulling her flush to him once more. Her hands made their way to the lower sides of his jaw to caress so gently, and he finds himself melting at every contact their touches made.

Without breaking the teeth-on-lip-lock, he steered their bodies onto the direction of his desk, leaving the Harlequin laying on it as he loomed over her, ravaging her mouth once more like the touch-starved man he was. He adjusted her thighs just enough to make room for him without making the position uncomfortable for the both of them, their heated make out session felt like it could go on forever as he gripped her waist tightly.

It felt like if he let her go, she would disappear all of a sudden. And he didn’t want that.

He made sure to not lean too much of his body weight onto her by propping himself up with his elbows, both hands find themselves cupping her face to keep her in place as her hands trailed all the way up from the lower arms to his shoulders to do the same to him. He broke the kiss to gasp for air, a string of saliva being the clear proof of their heated action, but quickly delved back into the riveting sensations of their activity.

Her touch against him were like magic; every contact sent shivers and jolts down his spine as she switched from holding his shoulders to holding his chest just above where a collarbone would traditionally be, pushing him away to let herself up. For a nanosecond he thought that maybe he went a little too far with his advances, until she disproved his theory by shoving him to one of the nearby long couches, only a pillow to cushion and soften his landing onto the furniture.

Quickly making up for lost time and contact, she quickly crawls to straddle his waist, clutching the back of his head to make him look at her, and her only. His hand found itself gripping at the back of her waist tightly once more, the other clutching her own head just to make sure she’s still there with him. Both were panting heavily, the room temperature very much heated as a result of their affairs.

His eyes looked at her longingly as he breathed heavily. “Pomni… I… I don’t think I want this to end.”

She flashed him a consoling smile.

The alarm rings, deafening the surroundings as he jolts awake, falling from his chair comically with a loud, slightly high-pitched scream emitting from his throat. He groans from the headache he had received from the impact to the ground, clutching at the top sides of his jaw, as he leans his head onto the desk for support.

His false heart was beating faster than when one would run; His face was flushed and he frustratingly ignores the heat from the rest of his body with a grumble.

He shifts his eyes to look around. Nothing’s changed. Everything was the same since Bubble left to do his daily chores.

He shakes his head and slams his face down onto the elegant desk, groaning depressingly and half-sobbing.

What the fuck? Was… WAS IT ALL JUST A DAMN DREAM!?

Oh, he could scream and cry into a pillow right about now. But the panicked angry screaming of a certain someone being bothered by the recent addition; the Ragdoll Mannequin that was “Ragatha”, suddenly grabs his attention. Now, he’s looking outside into the manor grounds from his office’s windows with a tired and questioning gaze.

“GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME!”

“But Mistress! You still haven’t tried out my trademark cookie recipe!! It’s GUARANTEED to be your instant favorite!”

“STOP CALLING ME MISTRESS! FOR THE LAST TIME, I DON’T CARE, GET THE FUCK AWAY-”

Caine sighed disappointingly to himself, dragging his hand across his eyes.

God fucking dammit. He actually feels something for her.

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I would say I'm sorry, but we all know I'm not. :)

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