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heauxvibez · 6 months ago

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Cognac Queen

Warning: smut (18+)

I'm fucking a baller, we courting I'm making it clap, he record it (damn) And he keep on making them noises (yeah) Damn, fuck, shit ooh (fuck, oh)

With a gentle grip, you tilted his head back with your left hand, feeling the coarse texture of his beard hairs against your palm as you positioned his throat perfectly. In your right hand, you held the glass bottle of cognac, its rich brown color catching the light as you angled it above his open mouth. Slowly, you poured it in a steady stream, ensuring he didn't miss a drop.

"There ya go, baby," you whispered softly, your voice gentle and soothing.

As you watched the liquor cascade into his mouth, you couldn't resist the urge to mimic his actions, your lips parting slightly mirroring him. The drink filled his mouth, and a soft, involuntary moan escaped his throat—a signal for you to stop.

You pulled the bottle back, a smirk playing on your lips as he lifted his head to swallow. His Adam’s apple bobbed with the effort, and you could see the tension in his jaw as he forced down the remnants of the drink. He shook his head slightly and let out a shuddering breath as the liquid burned its way down his throat, leaving a fiery trail that led to his stomach. He could feel the intense heat spread through his chest.

You could feel the bristly hairs of his beard still tingling in your palm. He was never really a cognac person; you knew that. Whiskey was more his style—a comfort drink he rarely ventured out of. Yet, here you were, straddling his lap as he took it to the head on his luxurious, comfortable couch in the dimly lit living room. The soft glow from a few candles cast gentle shadows around the room, highlighting the expressions on your faces. The faint sound of Megan Thee Stallion played in the background, weaving beats through the air and your body.

A wave of chills coursed through him, starting at his legs and rippling upward. "Jesus," he murmured under his breath, his voice rough and strained.

You couldn't help but gently wipe away the lingering liquid that had dripped from his bottom lip with your thumb. The cognac's rich aroma wafted up as you did so, making your mouth water. Without thinking, you quickly brought your thumb to your mouth, savoring the taste that you adored. Cognac, specifically E40's 'Typhoon VSOP', was your favorite type of liquor— smooth and spicy, with a warmth that spread through your body and a depth of flavor that lingered on your tongue. It always got the job done, providing a special something that other drinks never could.

Unlike dark liquor, clear spirits always seemed to sit heavily at the bottom of your stomach, their sharpness leaving you with the worst nausea in the world. The unpleasant aftereffects were a stark reminder of why you preferred dark.

You leaned over, carefully placing the bottle on the small table next to the couch. As you did, his hand found its way to your hips, steadying you with a firm grip. Once the bottle was secure, you straightened up, turning your attention back to him.

With a tender gesture, you placed both of your hands on his face, your fingers threading through the black and gray hairs of his beard. Your thumbs traced soothing circles on his flushed cheeks, feeling the warmth radiating from his skin. You could tell he was already feeling the effects of the drink—the telltale signs were all there.

His lips curved into a lazy, contented smile, and his heavy-lidded eyes flickered with intoxication. Soft, wavy tendrils of hair dangled from his loose ponytail and around his temples and forehead as he gazed into your eyes, his look lingering before dropping to your lips, then back up to meet your eyes again. The feelings were deep and you both couldn't help but fall deeper with each other in moments like this.

Your pulse quickened as his hands slowly slid from your hips, slipping beneath the shirt you wore—a shirt that happened to be his. The fabric, soft and familiar, was a comforting reminder of him. You were dressed only in his oversized t-shirt and a pair of panties, your skin exposed and sensitive to his touch. Despite his hands typically being roughened from hard work, they felt surprisingly gentle as they explored the smooth skin of your back.

He traced a path up and down your bare back, you moaned softly, the sound escaping your lips involuntarily as his fingers moved with tender pressure. The warmth of his hands heated up your body the same way the alcohol did.

"You really are the Cognac Queen, ain't you?" he teased. He licked his lips and shifted his hips subtly, the motion causing the growing bulge beneath his sweatpants to press against your wetness through the thin fabric of your panties.

"Yup, Megan Thee Stallion ain't got shit on me," you teased back. He chuckled, the sound deep and rich. His laugh was just as intoxicating as the liquor coursing through both of your veins. The combination of his laughter and the lingering effects of the drink made your head spin slightly but in the best way.

His hands traveled slowly from your back down to your ass, his touch a bit possessive. Your hands moved to his shoulders, gripping them for support as you lifted yourself slightly, giving him better access. He took the opportunity to grasp your cheeks firmly, his hands squeezing and massaging them. The sensation of his strong hands kneading your flesh made you weak. Your pussy began to pulsate against him.

"Her knees don't got shit on yours either," He lifted you up slightly signaling for you to plant your feet onto the couch. You popped yourself onto your tippy toes and continued to steady yourself using his shoulders.

"You ain't ever lied," you replied while eyeing him mischievously. You started to move, popping your ass to the rhythm of the music that filled the room. Your movements were fluid and sensual, each motion perfectly timed to the beat.

Soft grunts escaped his lips, now flushed red from the blood rushing to his face. His low, half-lidded eyes remained fixed on you, observing your every move with admiration as your hips worked against him. You were completely in your element, your body moving with the same confidence you had when you were out with your friends.

He enjoyed watching you, it reminded him of the way Megan Thee Stallion did when she squatted down to her knees, rocking her hips back and forth. You embodied that same energy, and he couldn't help but be entranced by the sight.

"Can you do that with it in you though?" he challenged with his voice low and provocative while watching his bulge only grow bigger. Slowly, he looked up at you, one eyebrow raised. The question hung in the air, daring you to respond.

You paused your movements, the stillness making the tension thick. Your eyes locked onto his playfully. You raised your own eyebrow in response. The corner of your mouth curved to the side as you were ready to meet his challenge head-on.

"Baby..now you know I can do that.." you stated with pure confidence. With his hands still gripping your hips firmly, he responded without words, thrusting his hips upward once again. The sudden movement pressed his bulge directly against your throbbing wetness for the second time, the friction eliciting an immediate moan from your lips.

"Then show me," he whispered huskily. His wish was immediately your command. Without question, you stood from his lap, slipping out of your panties with a graceful motion. He wasted no time, quickly pulling his black sweatpants and briefs down to his ankles, his dick springing free.

You got back on the couch, straddling him once again, your bare skin pressing against his. The tension between you was almost overwhelming. You reached down and grabbed his hardened member, feeling the warmth and firmness in your hand. A small groan escaped his lips at your touch.

He pulsed in your palm, his dick throbbing with need, begging to be enveloped by your walls. You could feel your pussy reacting with the same desperation, the slickness of your arousal making it clear how much you craved him. You were both ready to lose yourselves in each other.

You began to tease both yourself and him, sliding his dick back and forth against your slit with a slowness. The sensation was damn near torture, each glide sending you to the moon. His hardness pressed against your slick folds, the friction driving the both of you insane. You could feel his pre-cum mixing with your own juices.

As his tip brushed against your throbbing clit, you could see him struggling to maintain control. His breathing became ragged, and his chest heaved with each breath. His tip was already drowning in your essence, slick and glistening from the contact. The sight of him so close to losing himself made you almost do the same.

He threw his head back against the couch, his eyes squeezing shut as a whispered string of curses escaped his lips. The guttural sounds of his moans resonated through the room, each curse followed by a sharp breath. His neck muscles tightened, and veins stood out against his flushed skin as he struggled to maintain control.

"Uhn uhn, baby, you better look at me while I put it in. I wanna see that handsome face," you demanded with a soft rasp. He let out a breathy chuckle at your words, finding it cute how you tried to exude the same confidence that came so naturally to him. He had half a mind to be disobedient, to assert his dominance with a stern "No," but the situation was different now. The warm buzz of liquor flowing through his veins, combined with the intoxicating sensation of your juices dripping down his dick, had softened him. At that moment, he was ready to do anything you asked, completely captivated by the power you had over him.

His eyes flickered open, dark and intense, locking onto yours as you slid down his length. You wrapped around him so tightly, his grip on the decorative couch pillows couldn't compare to the grip you had on him. He clung to the pillows, his knuckles white with the effort, but it was clear that your pussy had the stronger hold. His eyes never left yours, maintaining the intense eye contact just as you had demanded. His brows furrowed in concentration, lips parted as moans and gasps escaped him.

Your stomach fluttered at the sight, a rush of butterflies adding to the dizzying arousal. Your heart skipped a few beats, the rhythm stuttering under the weight of the moment. Although this was what you had asked for, you could barely handle the sight yourself. The intimacy of watching his every reaction, knowing you were the cause, was almost too much to bear.

"I can't. Fuck, wait baby." he moaned out. Roman couldn't believe the words tumbling from his mouth. Was he really tapping out on the first stroke? The pleasure crashed over him in powerful waves. Maybe if you allowed him to throw his head back and close his eyes, he'd be able to push through, to regain some semblance of control. But he was so entranced by you, by the way you moved, the way your body enveloped his, that he felt completely vulnerable in more ways than one. Your presence, your gaze, held him captive, it left him utterly exposed. He fought to hold on, to not lose himself entirely.

You also found yourself melting at your own request. You had never had him begging like this before, and the sight and sound of his desperation was different for you. Your knees wanted to give in, and your pussy pulsed around him, gripping his dick tighter and eliciting another deep moan from him. The liquor had a completely different effect on you than it did on him. It made him weaker, and more vulnerable, while you felt a surge of power.

With a slow lick of your lips, you wrapped your hand around his throat. You began riding him, moving up and down with nice strokes. Your titties bounced in time with your hips. You couldn’t help but use your free hand to grab one of your breasts, pinching and twisting your nipple while you watched his face intently.

He remained obedient, his eyes fixed on yours, filled with awe. They didn’t stray from your gaze, except for the occasional moment when they rolled back in sheer ecstasy, only to quickly find their way back to yours. The sight of him fueled your confidence even more. His moans grew louder, matching your movements.

"Mmm, but you can baby. You can take it.. you're doing so good.." you praised, your voice a sultry murmur. As you spoke, you shifted the movement of your hips, no longer lifting and dropping but instead rocking back and forth. The change in pace earned a very faint whimper from his lips.

You were stunned at how you were able to take him, his thick length hitting your most sensitive spot repeatedly with each roll of your hips. The sensation was almost too much. Your moans reverberate through the living room and with the soft strains of music playing in the background. The air was thick with the scent of sweat and sex as you loved on each other.

Your knees began to burn, a dull ache that was overshadowed by the feeling building in the pit of your stomach. The signs of your orgasm were unmistakable, and the feeling grew stronger with every thrust. Your movements became more frantic, more desperate, each rock of your hips driving you closer to the edge. You could see the intensity in his eyes, feel the tremors in his body, and you knew he was right there with you.

"Fuck, look at us baby. Look at what you make me do.." you murmured. Slowly, your hand trailed up his throat, the pads of your fingers grazing his skin until you reached his jaw. You tilted his head downward, forcing him to witness the sight of his dick sliding in and out of your slick, swollen folds.

The visual was mesmerizing. His eyes widened as he took in the view of your bodies joined together, the creamy ring of your pussy forming at the base of his length, glistening with each thrust. The sound of your wetness grew louder, filling his ears with the sound he loved the most.

"Only you can make me feel this way, baby," you moaned softly as you slowed your pace, allowing him to savor every sensation. You wanted to make sure he could see and feel the tugs and pulls your pussy caused around his dick. You wanted him to see the effect he had on you, to witness the power of his touch.

In the background, Megan's music continued to play. The beat motivated you to continue, urging you to ride in time with the music, each thrust synchronized with the melody. He couldn't hear anything but the soft, sensual moans that slipped past your lips and the soft gushy sounds of your pussy.

"Baby, if you keep talking me like that, I'm gonna nut," he confessed, his breath still in ragged gasps as his eyes remained fixed on him fucking you.

You made him look back at you, locking eyes with him, a mischievous smirk on your lips. "Then I guess I'm gonna keep talking, baby,"

"Whose dick is this, baby?" you questioned. Your orgasm loomed on the horizon, but you were going to make sure he came first. There was no way you were going to let yourself finish before him.

He threw his head back once more, a low groan escaping his lips as he surrendered to you. "It's yours," he whispered into the air. In that moment, there was no doubt that you owned him completely, body and soul.

"Aht, look at me, daddy," You could see his jaw clench at your words as his orgasm approached. He exhaled deeply, a sound that echoed through the room, before reluctantly lifting his head back up, his hands still clutching onto the pillows with a desperate grip.

"Whose dick is this?" you asked again as your hips rocked faster, urgently driving you both toward the edge of ecstasy. You felt his dick stiffen up beneath you, he was on the brink of release.

"It's yours, it's yours, fuck, it's yours," he groaned, his voice filled with need as his orgasm coursed through him. "Fuck, I'm cumming," he moaned, the words torn from his lips as you continued to ride him through his orgasm. His hands abandoned the pillows, reaching instead for your hips, holding onto you as his climax washed over him, his body tensing and trembling with the force of it.

You didn't let up, still working to chase down your own release, feeling yourself getting closer with each thrust. The sensation of him filling you up only added to the moment, pushing you ever closer to the brink as well.

Now it's his turn.

With a firm grip, he gathered your hair, pulling it back into a ponytail with his right hand, while his left hand remained steady on your hips, guiding and supporting you through the waves of pleasure.

"You gonna nut for me, babygirl?" His deep voice resonated through your ears, igniting something deep in your core. With sweat trickling down your forehead, your body responded tirelessly to him.

You nodded eagerly, your breath hitching as you felt the tension building in you. Every movement, every thrust, brought you closer to the edge, and you were determined to let go under his touch. His hands worked perfectly, one guiding your movements while the other maintained a firm grip, grounding you.

As you continued to ride him, he met your thrusts with his own, his hips rising to meet yours almost in a dance against the music. His movements were deep, each one grazing your G-spot, sending you into a frenzy.

"Daddy's hitting that spot, ain't I?" he questioned watching you tremble on his lap. "There you go, that’s it baby. Cum for me." As your body responded eagerly to him, your essence flowed freely along his dick, creating a trail down it and pooling onto his thighs. The orgasm brought a constellation of stars behind your eyelids.

As his thrusts increased, your trembling knees struggled to support you, eventually succumbing to ecstasy. He showed no signs of stopping, his need driving him to ravish you with endless strokes.

Your head found solace in the curve of his neck, and your fingers tightened their grasp on his broad shoulders, desperately seeking an anchor.

“Please..” you begged, eyes watering as the torture continued. His hips felt like the pounding of a machine, driving deeper and deeper into the depths of your soul.

"Nah...", his fingers stayed entwined firmly in the curls of your hair, with a gentleness that still demanded your attention, coaxing you into meeting his gaze again. He was ensuring that there was no escape from his eyes.

"Since this dick belongs to you," he continued, his tone filled with a possessiveness that sent a thrill coursing through your veins, "you gon take it like it belongs to you."

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Shoutout to @caramelcleopatraa for being my inspo for actually pushing this out💐🩷

Tags: @harmshake @southerngirl41 @sortudademais @empressdede @alichesmi

@msbigredmachine @theninthwonder @blacst4r @sassginamillls @wrestlingprincess80

@headoftheetable @trashbin-nie @tshepisho @mzv11 @sheyaish

@saintmagx

#roman reigns #roman reigns fanfiction #wwefanfic #romanreignsimagine #wwe #romanreignsoneshot #roman reigns smut #fanfiction #roman reigns x black reader

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siienthiil · 9 months ago

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𝓜𝓪𝓼𝓬𝓪𝓻𝓪.

𝓭𝓮𝓯𝓽𝓸𝓷𝓮𝓼.

contents.. yandere¿ dazai osamu x reader.

Choking.

You were violently choking on the hard wood floor, your body tilted to its side and your eyesight blurred by a mixture of dirt and blood that had infiltrated your vision. You had long ago coughed up all the rich liquid that was blocking your windpipe, which was a scare flavor of saliva and blood.

The air was vile, the smell so overwhelming that you could practically taste it on your tongue. You gagged, the unpleasant aroma of filth that has been accumulated overtime settling on your tastebuds and the smell adding to your migrane. Your head was pounding and you swore it was split open by the distracting pain that pulsated through your skull and to the back of your neck. Your leg too was also fractured, but to an extent, and bruises covered your body in various places.

But, nothing. Absolutely nothing would ever compare to the absolute fury Dazai unleashed on you after he found out about your escape attempt.

It feels like you're flying

Well, maybe you are by the way your body feels totally weightless as you desperately create distance from the prison you were once held in. Tears poured from your eyes like rivulets, a strange sense of hope swelling inside your chest. A feeling that you forgot had even existed and you sure as hell didn't want that feeling to go away.

You needed to get to where people were, you needed to blend into the crowd. You needed to get to the police.

The streets were no longer silent; distant laughter, people talking and the sound of motors running as vehicles drove up and down the road. Sounds you thought you'd never miss, but you did. Months of confinment and everything around you feels new. The air was cold and crisp and it seemed like yesterday that it was just the summer, yet it felt so long.

It doesn't take you long to stumble across a police station, the big and bold lettering on the sign catching your attention from a mile away. You waste no time to advance towards the building, bare feet crushing the cold snow beneath them with every accelerating step.

Until you're not.

Slender fingers wrap around your arm and suddenly your heart is in your stomach. The grip on your arm is animalistic and full of control, fingernails digging crescents into your flesh and you find yourself unable to move another step.

"where are you going?"

You're pulled back into consciousness by the sound of heavy footsteps reverberating against the walls and moving towards the door. Your heartrate immediately skyrockets, your anxiety alleviating your impending hyperventilation and cold sweat bathing over you. Your eyes shoot wide open and you fixate on the light shining through the small crevice beneath the door.

Quietly, you breath in through your nose and out through your mouth.

In through your nose,

out through your mouth.

The breathing exercise doesn't do anything to help soothe you and infact, you feel that your heart is beating so loudly that you think that he might've heard it to.

The footsteps come to a stop infront of the door and the air soon fell omnious and tense, hinges clicking and the door slowly opening with a loud creak. Dazai peered into the room, surveying it and noting every single detail, likely to see if you made another attempt to escape; his gaze lingering on the boarded up window. He looks away from the window and his honey brown eyes fall onto you.

Your blood runs cold and you'd hope that you would just go into cardiac arrest.

There was a slight tug at the corner of his mouth before his lips curl into a full blown smile, his eyes becoming downturned and his face molding into that disgustingly bright expression. He steps into the room, closing the door behind him and flicking on the light as he takes a step in. Why was he here? Why now? Is he planning to simply just watch you this time? Rarely, he would break a few of your limbs, but you didn't trust him. Not this time around. It rarely ever happens, but there's no guarantee where his head space is in, in that moment. He could suddenly burst and let all his anger out on you again.

He walks towards you and you narrow your eyes at him, an involuntary whimper bubbling within your throat. He kneels down infront of you and reaches his hand out to touch you, fingertips barely grazing your skin before you flinched away. The second you flinched, his heart twisted with hurt and rejection. He frowns and his hand falls to his side.

"You're still upset with me?" He says and he's not asking, he's simply making the observation. He finds it amusing how you think you could stay mad at him when he threw you into this room and only fractured your leg for precautionary measures. It'll heal, but it was much better than losing a limb, no?

You don't answer him and he sighs.

"I can't have you running off on me, ___. You understand why I did what I did, right? To...?" He's expecting you answer back, his gaze lingering on you and when you don't answer him, you can hear the finaltility in his voice. "To.. keep you safe. Now, say it back to me."

"Go fuck yourself."

Surprised, he leans back just a bit and raises a brow, his face slowly lighting up with amusement as his sinister laughter fills the room. He tilts his head at you, a toothy grin remaining etched onto his face as he looks down at you with mock curiosity.

"Where did you get the balls to speak like that? You're not exactly in the right position to be insulting me." He feigned arrogance, another huff of laughter escaping from his lips, "You are way too stubborn for your own good, gorgeous. You're gonna get yourself hurt if you keep this up."

Your eyes bore into him like daggers and you don't give him the satisfaction of responding yet again. Hatred pumped through your veins, fueling your rage and you wanted nothing more than to let out all your emotions on him. All the confusion, the hate.

The lack of communication from you made him frown once again, his lips pressing into a thin line.

"What's wrong? You were talking just fine a few moments ago. Cat got your tongue?" He tilts his head again, "You know how this'll turn out for you."

"Why me?" You croak out, managing to bring it upon yourself to finally say something that wasn't just profanities. He raises a brow.

"Why not?" He said, "You gave me a reason to."

"And what was that reason? I was there for you and you turned around and fucking kidnapped me!" Your voice is strained and it hurts to even talk, your voice coming out scratchy. Most likely due to the amount of coughing and screaming you did during the past couple days.

"If you're so insistent." Dazai chuckled, "You were too busy meddling in affairs that shouldn't have concerned you and look where being nosy got you. You were naive to think nothing would happen to you when digging around for information on the port mafia. I did it to keep you safe."

"To keep me safe? From what? The port mafia? Whatever they had planned in store for me would've been much better than the shit you've put me through." You spat angrily, slowly pushing yourself from off the ground and carefully scooting yourself back into the wall. Hissing in pain when you moved your injured leg to accommodate the position you were in.

"You wouldn't have liked what they'd do to you." He states matter-of-factly.

"You're a traitor and a fucking cunt. I trusted you."

"Is that all you know how to say? Profanities?"

"You were my boyfriend! You wouldn't have done this to me if you fucking loved me-" You should've known better than to think that he'd let you finish that sentence. Abruptly, his hand came up to have a tight grip on your jaw, forcefully pulling your face towards him and forcing you to look at him, a dangerous shadow casting over his features.

"I am your boyfriend and I do love you. You do not know the shit I would do for you and you'd certainly hate me more so if you had the slightest of clue of what I've done for you." His tone of voice sends chills down your spine and you find yourself not being able to hold eye contact with him for much longer. You close your eyes and you feel tears starting to form, prompting you to squeeze your eyelids shut. He doesn't take kindly to the action, his grip on your jaw tightening and with a slight shake of your head, you finally open your eyes to meet his gaze once more.

"Does it hurt?" He suddenly asks, causing you look at him with confusion.

"W-what?"

"This." He lets go of your face and stands up, towering over you and you carefully watch him as he takes a single step towards you. Your mouth runs dry and you want nothing but to disappear into the wall and to sink into the floor as his intimidating silhouette stared down at you. You don't even see him raise his boot before his foot came to press down onto your fractured leg, sending a rush of blinding hot pain throughout your entire being. Your mouth fell open, but no screams came out. All you could manage was a painful yell before your vocal cords decided to cease on you.

"Fuck!" You screamed out, tears finally pouring out of your eyes, "P-please, wait!" You gasp.

"What was that?" Dazai asked, putting more pressure down onto your leg. You wheeze and under the blurriness, you swear you can see him looking down at you with a great amount of pride and arrogance, his eyes sparkling with intense excitement. Though, he himself would like to believe he didn't like hurting you, but how else would you learn?

"I'm sorry!"

"Say that again, I didn't hear you." What an asshole, am I right?

"P-please, Dazai..I'm sorry!" Finally, he steps off your leg and you didn't even realize that you were holding your breath until his weight was finally off it. Crying, you reach for your knee on the same leg that was fractured, rubbing it up and down to try and soothe the pain as you rocked back and forth, trying desperately to distract yourself from the agony. Fuck, you missed being at home, missed the life you had before Dazai became a lunatic. But, it made you question, was your boyfriend always like this?

"I did warn you that you'd get hurt if you kept the attitude up." It is Dazai's voice that brings you out of your thoughts, but the agonizing pain was still there and honestly, right now you could care less about him being right there. You just wanted the pain to stop. To beg him to kill you, but you knew if you did that, than he's more likely to lash out. 'Kill you? Why? So you can leave me?' While savagely beating the shit out of you. If you had the strength, you would've attempted to kill him, but despite all the shit he's done to you, you still had those vague feelings for him. Or were they really vague?

He sighed and leaned down on his heels, demanding your attention as his hand reached for yours on your knee. You pull your hand away and he doesn't move or flinch, instead, his hand comes to where you were previously trying to soothe the pain.

"All I ask is that you listen to me, ___. Otherwise you wouldn't be going through all this pain if you would just fucking-" Cutting himself off before he could say something offensive. Which was laughable on his part. He surely had no problem using violence against you as a show of power, but when it came to his words? Oh, he was sure to be 'careful' with what he said when it came to you.

"I really don't like hurting you." He said, gently rubbing your knee. It takes a lot of focus to muster up the words through your fucked up vocal cords, but when you do, you dare ask.

"Then why do you do it?"

"How else are you supposed to learn if you can't obey what I ask?"

Anger just swelled within your heart even more. That was his justification for hurting you? Because you wouldn't obey him? He was never this controlling when you two first started out, but I guess it's true that you never really realize that you're in a bad situation until it becomes too late.

"I love you, ___."

"..."

"I love you too, Dazai.."

It's been 4 years(?) since I've posted lmao. This is a rewrite of a previous 'x reader' I wrote awhile ago. I am open to taking requests and it doesn't have to explicitly be yandere, you're able to request anything.

#anime #bsd #bungo stray dogs #bungo stray dogs imagines #yandere x you #yandere #dazai osamu #dazai x reader #yandere dazai #Spotify

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sakkiichi · 1 year ago

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ON WATERS SO INVITING.

Because tonight, neither of you can hold back from tasting the honeyed tea directly from each other’s lips.

ft. Wriothesley x gn! reader.

cw/genre: fluff, romance.

what’s this? aya finally posting a fic? insert dramatic gasp. anyway, dedicating this one to @bunny-rambles @https-furina and @dearemilia <3 to my favorite wriothesley lovers, I hope you enjoy this, mwah !

if you enjoy this, reblogs and comments help more than likes !

Notes of an herbal aroma fill the dim lit room.

Down here, it is sometimes difficult to keep track of time or the seasons, but the one constant that oftentimes keeps you sane are these meetings.

You are aware they take place once every week, just between him and you.

Steaming mugs are set atop the table separating you two.

Lately, you’ve started wishing the distance of it wasn’t there at all.

Softly clearing your throat, you place your hands around the warm cup. You take a moment to inspect its pattern, seeing how you had yet to encounter two identical sets.

You bring the liquid to your lips, taking the chance to briefly stare at the man before you while he focuses on some documents.

Unruly ebony strands stick out in different directions, somehow still managing to fall flatteringly over his face; sharp eyes, the color of starlit icicles scan over the pages, sharp jawline set, lips a taut line; your gaze travels lower still, helplessly getting lost in the contrast of black leather bands over the pale scarred skin of his neck.

Bitter. The tea you just tasted, but also the fact you have to pretend you two are just coworkers.

Although, sometimes, you thought he played you intentionally.

“Honey?” You ask, putting down your cup, beginning to stand up to get the honey jar from the adjacent shelf.

“Yes, dear?” Is the answer uttered in his baritone.

You scoff, frowning, as you place your hands on your hips.

“Wriothesley, I meant if you want honey for your tea.” You explain, tone pointed.

The warden puts down his paperwork, leaning back on his chair, that chilling gaze of his landing on you as his lips half curl into a devious grin.

“No, that won’t be necessary, thank you.” He says, that slight smirk still on his face.

You nod, returning to your seat, jar of honey in hand.

As you start mixing the thick golden liquid with your not-sweet-enough tea, you can still note his eyes on you.

It’s not that the feeling of the shiver his actions send down your spine is unpleasant per se, but you’ll start having trouble maintaining the composed facade if he keeps this up.

“Did you find anything interesting regarding the investigation?” You inquire, stirring your beverage.

Wriothesley leans a little forward, his own tea, untouched.

Strange; he was always the one to suggest you have some, after all.

“Yes to something interesting.” He states, resting his cheek on one of his hands. You swear those fingerless gloves of his are too distracting. “But it’s not related to the investigation.”

You raise an eyebrow, sipping on your finally sweet tea.

“Care to enlighten me, Your Grace?” You tease, as your honeyed lips tilt up in a grin.

The man chuckles, standing up from his seat, rounding the table towards where you are.

“I can enlighten you alright, if you’re willing to offer a little collaboration.” The Duke whispers, from behind you, lips almost brushing the shell of your ear.

You swallow, putting down your drink in fear you’ll end up spilling it with how fast your heart is hammering against your ribcage.

“Alright.” You choke out.

“Good.” He approves. With a swift move, he takes your hand, making you stand up too.

“Wriothesley, what are you doing? Your tea is going to get cold…” You try for a serious tone, but your voice comes out smaller than you would have liked.

“Hm? What was that? If I remember correctly, you wanted to know what I found, no?” Is his response, as he brushes some flyaway strands away from your face, his calloused thumb softly brushing over the pink of your lower lip.

“Wriothesley…” You utter, breathless.

“Shhh, don’t say a thing now, sweetheart.” He tells you, his face tilted to the side, one of his hands holding your chin, guiding your gaze to his, as the other cradles your cheek.

And those frosted sky eyes.

You may not be able to see the light blues painted by daylight every dawn from down here, but, right now, you’re pretty sure you prefer the shade of His Grace’s stare.

Who could blame you, for your next actions, when the distance between you suddenly vanishes and he’s reciprocating them?

You stand on your tiptoes.

And then, your lips collide against the Duke’s.

He kisses you back, more gentle than you would have expected.

Bitter and sweet flavors mingle in the annihilated space between you, as your fingers tangle in his dark hair and his hands grab your waist.

Wriothesley kisses you as if he’s drinking in the sunlight he’s been deprived of for ages; sweetly, tenderly, as if he was afraid this gold rush would disintegrate right before him; searing, the burning sensation of raw ice on bare skin.

And you can’t have enough of it, of him.

Months of yearning, of dreaming awake, finally realized in the burning of your lungs at the lack of air when his lips envelop yours.

Alas, his enlightenment only went so far for today, for the next thing you know, he’s pulling away, that same grin on his features once again, as you chase after the fading kiss.

An index over your lip’s cupid’s bow stops you, though.

“Found it interesting?” The man that currently has you on the palm of his hand questions, amusement laced through the lilt of his voice.

You reach a hand out, delicately running your thumb over the scar beneath his right eye.

He takes ahold of your hand, planting a lingering kiss on the back of it.

“Let’s find out more about it tomorrow, shall we?” The Duke utters, as he starts towards the door of his office. “By the way, that honey is very good.” Are his last words before he exists, eyes flitting from the jar to your lips.

And so, you stand there, alone and lovestruck, both your hands holding your burning cheeks as you contain a squeal.

Tomorrow can’t come fast enough.

#astronetwrk #favoniuslibrary #wriothesley x reader #genshin impact x reader #wriothesley x you #wriothesley x y/n #genshin impact imagines #genshin impact x you #wriothesley imagines #wriothesley fluff #genshin impact scenarios #genshin impact oneshots #genshin impact fanfics #wriothesley #genshin impact #genshin impact x y/n

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ophelian-darling · 8 months ago

Text

𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞.

Yandere Diavolo x gn Reader.

𝐒𝐮��𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Awakening in darkness, you witness a rough pleasure with no eyes by a devil.

TW(s): Kidnapping, Chaining, Blindfolding, Master/pet dynamic, Non-con, sexual content.

This is a NSFW piece, Minors/Ageless blogs DNI.

The demential voice within your mind echoed its morbose susurration, repeatedly and ad nauseam. for a second, you assumed that you were already dead , for you have never experienced such a frightening and swallowing obscurity that was similar to a one of a grave. Thankfully, the burning ache on your wrists alerted your nerves, reminding you that you were still alive, but not in the best wellbeing.

Complying to your instincts , you did your best to move a muscle in your body - the pain was quick to rush through your limbs at your vain attempt to break free, forcing you to stop wriggling.

a deep despair ate your heart : why are you like this and how did you end up like this ? a lot of questions bursted inside of your head and it only contributed to make your skull throb with an unendurable soreness . Even breathing was a struggle, you took every breath with a force, as if a heavy weight was placed on your chest .

most of your senses were almost shut down : your eyelids curtained your vision and nothing was visual, except for that floating explosion on your irises . your skin was painfully restricted and burned by the familiar feeling of cool , hard Shackles ; tying your arms , waist , ankles and choking on your neck, preventing you from any lungful amount of air . The metallic taste on your tongue was unpleasant, the strong aroma of the red fluid fouling your nose and nauseating you .

Fair years of experience in battle and secret work taught you to rely on a single sense in critical situations. your listening was as sharp as a bat's and that sound of an approaching footsteps was unmistakably close. in a rush of thoughts, you came to a sole conclusion : you are currently kidnapped .

The heavy sound of the gate's clacking echoed through the cold air of the room as you tensed, heart drumming loudly to your ears and threatening to break your ribs . a step , then another and another... with each step you heard the louder your brain screams .

a sudden touch against your cheek made your skin crawl . Although it was gentle, you couldn't help the feeling of uneasiness and disquiet that dwelled in your abdomen .

It's only just begun.

The spiderlike, tickly digits floated on your skin and moved ponderously, eliciting a shiver from you at the soft sensation, yet in such a cruel way. the fingers stopped at your chin, pressed on it for a moment then tilted your head up with force . the back of your head bumped into the hard wall, adding more pang to your already abused body.

The pathetic whimper that escaped your throat made your captor chuckle :a rich, deep and demoniac voice that paralyzed your brain .

The aura of the figure in front of you was anything but natural.

"I've waited too long to have you...My dearest pet"

Before you could fully process the denotation of the appalling words, the hand that used to be gentle moments ago tore the veil on your eyes, exposing the upper half of your face to the chilly air, letting your eyelids uncover your orbs and catch the most horripilating image you've ever seen .

a sight of a globe of two lucific , emerald eyes that stared right into your soul. you've heard of many legends of Lilithian demons and lustful Incubi, however, you believed none of them until now . those odd eyes are not of a human , but a daeva's.

The man in front of you laughed at the pure terror your face showed, confusing you even more as you couldn't help but to stare in your weak position.

"W-what are you ?" you managed to gain the rest of your mental strength to ask . His pink locks and dark lips finally had your attention when he smiled amusingly at you .

His palm moved from the side of your face to your neck, twitching his fingers teasingly before applying a suffocating pressure on your trachea as he spat "you'll come to know"

His hand left your throat, you didn't have the time to rejoice when his fingers ripped up the remaining cloth that warmed your body only a little , cutting from your chest and following the long tear to your thighs. the air stinged your exposed skin, causing goosebumps to rise and your nipples to perk . your face heated at the realization that you're now almost nude for this monster's pleasure .

Disgust, humiliation and shame for being a mere plaything .

"Aren't you just a pretty thing… so pure and frail " his eyes devoured you shamelessly, enjoying his power over you and how vulnerable your small form was against his stalwart, bigger one .

"My dear Doppio was right, you'd make a wonderful slave "

Your eyes widened : Doppio ?! Doppio Vinegar ?! the man that was your partner in the same squad ?! how could someone who's idiotically sweet have a relation to a creature that appears to be from the depths of hell ? you had an eerie feeling about him in the beginning, but you pushed it aside, convincing yourself that the sudden flash in his childish eyes wasn't more than a hallucination.

What if he -

The train of perplexed thoughts crumbled when he smacked his lips against yours forcefully, aching your front teeth and biting on your lower lip, a drop of blood oozing as a result of the sadistic act of lust. The intensity in what was supposed to be a kiss added a certain pain that wasn't meant to ache, the feeling of your gum being compressed and your lips wounded was oddly pleasurable to your own disgust and surprise. the voice of reason within your brain was shouting at you to remain sober and realize how much this is sickening.

Te withdrew suddenly, letting you regain the lost Oxygen from the previous kiss . you tried to calm yourself and take each breath with care so you wouldn't cause yourself any more damage but failed, feeling like drowning with your ears ringing and head tingling painfully , a colorful display that coated your vision dizzyingly.

The expression on his face was camouflaged due to your eyelids drooping over your eyes, you only felt his ghostly hands wandering down to your chest , stopping for a second before squeezing hard at the area, enjoying how it squished under his large palms . you tried to move away but the force on your neck reminded you of your place in this maladive predator and prey play . you were only able to move your hips and curl up your toes .

"Don't misbehave, little one" he warned, displeased at your attempt to get away. However, you kept on moving as a response to your instincts and the harsh treatment your chest received.

One of his hands was raised, delivering you a harsh slap across the face, causing your movement to cease and your cheek to burn . His voice and height, the way he spoke to you like a master conveyed his authority and his dislike of repeating orders twice … you recognized a commander from their aura and he was definitely one.

Noticing your obedience, his face twisted into a pleased, maniac expression as he cooed "Good...such an obedient pet"

His light tone was far from comforting, the praise he uttered sickened you . his fingers felt like blades as they ran down to stomach, then leisurely to your hips ; fondling them. you shook at what was coming next .

He carried your smaller form effortlessly while your back was still sticking to the cold wall , cupping a handful of your buttocks, the chains now straining at your feet more but loosening up a bit on your wrists .

The sly digits of the devil played with the tissue of your underwear . Your captor had the clear intention of teasing you as he pulled it down, with patience and slowness, eagerly watching your facial features and how they contorted into a weak, helpless mien.

You didn't dare kick or scream (more like too tired to do so) as your body is being violated, nor it seemed you could do anything . you've detached from your body once he let his hot length in, educing a sharp sting that traveled from the bottom to the top and rested in the back of your head , throbbing with even more spasm.

Your brain was completely empty, your corpse was moving on its own as it jumped up and down to meet each sloppy thrust he gave to your entrance.

your senses were submerging - alongside your body - in the surreal pleasure .

Never in your life felt so restless under your own skin . there weren't any exact words in the world that can describe the shatter within - it's like being a puppet : sightly, silent and soulless.

During the rush of internal screams and violent thoughts, a single phrase surfaced : even if this ended, there's still more to come .

a sudden wave of warm tingling and complete relief washed over you, many polychromatic shadows dancing in your vision through a blur of tears. you've reached heaven for a second, then miserably fell back to earth. you recovered some of your realization and thinking when warmth exploded inside you, accompanied by a long, deep groan from the man beneath.

You didn't dare move nor make a sound, you just waited for his next action. After all, you had a hope - no matter how unrealistic this hope is - of being pitied by him, to get out of here and never return, to move on with a wounded existence, better than being trapped with him till death.

His eyes met yours, the light of them was stronger after his climax. He loosened the squeezing grip on your bottom, allowing your feet to touch the ground again with the same painful feeling of metal on your frail skin .

you panicked as his hands reached to the back of your head, expecting another ruthless act of pleasure , but au contraire , he unclasped the collar on your neck, finally letting you pant and take back the air to your lungs.

"You were good for your boss, I shall reward you now"

All of it sunk in now : Doppio was the reason why you are here now, the possessed gleam in his irises was real, as real as this man in front of you - your boss…

your blood ran cold at the realization that you were violated by Passione's head, and what was more breaking that every faith you had for freedom.

Your own release is in death.

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gurokiitty · 8 days ago

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YAAAY Y’RE IN JJK ERA NOW AM I RIGHT?!?!?! !! 🎀

(can i request any staff with geto plz? (literally my #1 man ever 🙏🏿🙏🏿))

a/n : yesss i ammm and i LOVE geto too <3<3 i'm finished my exams and i actually couldn't stop thinking abt getting high w/ him!!! hope you enjoy, rosé :3

ROTTEN APPLE

{ stoner! suguru geto x f! reader }

word count : 3135

warnings/tags : mild DUBCON, college au, friends to lovers, drug use (marijuana), inexperienced reader, mild coercion, intoxicated/sloppy sex, cunnilingus, creampie.

Suguru has always been different—calm on the surface, languid like water that flows wherever it pleases. You, on the other hand, are all edges and discipline, tethered to your schedule and ambitions like a kite tied to an unyielding post.

But tonight, he’s managed to untether you.

“C'mon,” he says, his voice smooth and coaxing like honey. “You should just try it once." His dark hair spills over his shoulders, framing his face as he watches you with a lazy smile.

“Absolutely not—I am not doing drugs,” you say, crossing your arms over your chest, though the finality in your tone is already softening under the weight of his gaze. His voice is always disarming, his words too gentle to feel like pressure.

“Not drugs,” he adds with a playful shrug, “just… assisted relaxation.” The sleek glass bong gleams in his hand, an offering of escape. You’ve spent days hunched over textbooks, suffocating under the weight of equations and essays, and for once, you don’t have the energy to resist him.

“You trust me, don’t you?”

You nod, tentative but willing. His grin widens, and your resolve dissolves like sugar in warm tea.

He sets up the bong with ease, his long fingers moving deftly to pack the bowl. The weed smells sharp and earthy, its aroma curling into the air like incense. When he flicks the lighter, the small flame flares bright, illuminating his face for a heartbeat. He looks almost holy, a dark angel leaning close to guide you through some forbidden ritual.

“Okay,” he says, wrapping an arm around you, his broad chest warm against your side. “See this?” He taps the glass gently. “You’re gonna put your lips here, and when I light the bowl, just inhale slow and steady. When the chamber's full, let go of the carb and clear it. Easy.”

You follow his instructions clumsily, your fingers brushing his as you hold the cool glass. The flame crackles softly, and smoke swirls inside the chamber like a storm cloud, dense and white. You draw in slowly, and the hit punches sharp into your chest, leaving a bitter taste on your tongue. When you exhale, the smoke spills out in a trembling haze, fogging your glasses.

Suguru laughs, warm and unrestrained. “Cute,” he murmurs, reaching out to adjust the frames slipping down the bridge of your nose. “You’re a natural.”

“Hardly,” you mutter, blinking away tears from the roughness of the hit. He takes a turn, his movements fluid and sure, before passing the bong back to you. You take another hit and the world begins to soften at the edges. The air feels heavier, thicker, and your body starts to sink into the cushions, the tension in your shoulders unwinding like a thread pulled loose. The taste of smoke lingers on your tongue, sharp and strange but not unpleasant, and every inhale feels like stepping deeper into a dream.

Time stretches, slows. You aren’t sure how long you’ve been there, passing the bong back and forth, his laughter weaving into the fog around you. The warmth spreading through your limbs grows unbearable, like your blood has turned to molten honey. When you lean into him, your head resting against his chest, he doesn’t protest. His hand slides into your hair, stroking gently, and his voice drifts down to you like a lullaby.

“You okay?” he asks, soft but teasing. You nod sluggishly, your eyelids heavy and half-lidded. Everything feels distant, muted, except for him. The steady beat of his heart thrums against your ear, grounding you even as your mind spins.

“I feel... warm,” you mumble, the words slurring together.

His chest shakes with quiet laughter, his fingers trailing through your hair like silk. "Yeah?” he murmurs, brushing a strand away from your face. “You look warm.”

He tilts your face up with gentle fingers, his thumb brushing your cheek. The corners of his mouth quirk up, his expression softening as he watches you, so unguarded for once.

Your vision blurs, but you can still see the way his brown eyes glint, like polished stones catching firelight. They hold you there, spellbound and still, as if the world has slowed to a crawl around you.

“Your cheeks are all flushed,” he notes with a laugh, his thumb slipping to rest lightly on your lower lip. “You’re gorgeous like this.”

Your lips part instinctively, but no words come—only the thrum of your pulse in your ears and the heat curling low in your belly as his gaze lingers on your mouth.

Before you can think, his lips are on yours, soft and insistent, urging you to respond. Your thoughts scatter like ash in the wind, leaving only sensations—the warmth of his mouth, the faint sweetness of his breath, and the way his hands cradle your face as if you’re something fragile.

You melt into him, your body pliant under his touch as his tongue brushes against yours. Suguru's hands drift lower, slipping under your knitted sweater to trace the curve of your waist, his palms searing against your skin. You shiver, a soft whimper escaping your lips, and he swallows the sound with a smirk.

"You're sensitive," he says, his voice vibrating against your mouth as his fingers skim higher, ghosting over the underside of your ribs.

He pulls your sweater over your head, his movements slow as he drinks you in. The cool air hits your skin, but his lips are quick to find you again—kissing a path down your body from your collarbone, to the curve of your stomach. His hands follow the trail of his mouth, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

"Just relax, princess. I'll take care of you." He hums, his fingers tugging at the waistband of your pants.

You try to object, but the words tangle in your throat, coming out as a soft, incoherent hum. Suguru smiles, pressing his lips to your stomach.

Your body betrays you, hips tilting instinctively as he slides your pants down, the fabric pooling at your ankles.

You can't help but glance, taking a furtive peek at your own underwear. "Oh my," he murmurs, his eyes darkening as he takes in the sight of the lacy, lavender-coloured panties. "Did you wear these for me?"

You try to shake your head, to deny the question, but he chuckles softly, his hand brushing over the delicate fabric. “Liar,” he grins, the warmth of his palm seeping through the lace, making your stomach flutter.

Your breath hitches when he hooks a finger under the waistband of your panties and tugs them down agonizingly slowly. Lace glides over plump skin, dragging against your thighs as it’s peeled away, leaving you bare and trembling under his gaze. He leans closer, so close you can feel his breath ghosting against your cunt, and you instinctively try to squeeze your legs shut, but his hands are quick to still you.

“Fuck, you're already dripping,” he says softly, sending a flush to your cheeks. One of his hands slides between your thighs, his fingers dipping into your slick folds. His touch is unhurried as he gathers the fluid and lifts his hand to his mouth.

His tongue flicks, gliding over his fingers to taste you, and his lashes flutter as he lets out a soft, pleased hum. “Sweet,” he murmurs, his eyes locking onto yours with a predatory gleam. Embarrassment floods you and you try to look away, veiling your face behind trembling hands.

“Don't hide from me,” he murmurs, his tone almost chastising, though there’s a smile tucked in the corner of his mouth. "I want to see your pretty face as I eat you out."

"W-Wait, Sugu—" Your voice cracks as your hand reaches for his shoulder in feeble protest. He chuckles, his fingers sliding gently to entwine with yours. “I’ve got you. Just let me make you feel good.”

Your breath catches in your throat as he settles between your thighs, his hands firm on your hips to keep you from squirming away. Your mind feels foggy, your thoughts disjointed and swirling, but his presence anchors you, drawing all your focus to the way his head dips lower and his lips part so prettily.

When his tongue finally meets you, the sensation is molten. He starts slow—broad, languid strokes that glide through your wetness, his tongue curling at the end to lap up every bit of you. The warmth of his mouth engulfs you, wet and sloppy, and the obscene sounds of his ministrations make your face burn even hotter.

You’re vaguely aware of his hands, one gripping your thigh to hold you steady while the other shifts to spread you wider. You writhe beneath him, his name slipping from your lips in breathy whispers, but it feels distant, surreal—like a wet dream you’re floating through, too vivid to be real.

Your mind spins, thoughts shattering like fragile glass, each one broken by the next swipe of his tongue. His tongue flattens against your clit, pressing hard for a moment before he changes pace, teasing the sensitive bundle with quick, feather-light flicks that make your back arch off the couch.

“That's it,” he urges between strokes, his lips brushing your skin as he speaks. The words send a rush of heat straight to your core, and your thighs tremble beneath his unrelenting grip.

His pace shifts again, slower, sloppier, his tongue delving deeper as your fingers curl into the cushions. He presses his mouth against you harder, drinking in your reactions as you writhe, each mewl spilling from your lips sharper than the last. When he pulls back to catch his breath, his lids are heavy, his grin lazy and satisfied, like the euphoric haze after taking a deep hit. His lips glisten, his chin damp with your arousal, and the faint sheen catches the light, making you whimper.

“Keep your eyes on me, girl,” he commands, pulling you from the fog of your mind. His thumb slides up to rub gentle circles against your clit as he waits for you to meet his gaze. When you do, the hunger in his eyes threatens to swallow you whole.

“You taste like heaven,” he says, his tone softer now, almost worshipful as he lowers his mouth to you again. This time, his movements are more insistent—his tongue plunges into you, curling and twisting, coaxing every last tremor from your body while his thumb keeps up its relentless rhythm on your clit. You feel yourself falling apart, splintering at the seams, your body a quivering, pliant mess under his touch.

"Go ahead n' cum on my face, pretty girl," Suguru hums, grinding the pad of his thumb against your sensitive clit. You groan, your head falling back against the couch as your hips jerk involuntarily, chasing the release he’s dragging out of you. Your mind feels hazy, untethered, and your thoughts dissolve with each stroke of his tongue.

When it finally hits, it’s like a tidal wave, ripping through you with a force that leaves you gasping and shuddering. Your vision blurs, white-hot pleasure consuming every sense as your fingers twist into the fabric of the couch. He doesn’t stop, his tongue lapping at you greedily, prolonging the high until you’re babbling.

As you come down, your breath ragged and your limbs boneless, Suguru pulls back, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth as he crawls back up your body. He presses his mouth to yours in a sloppy, hungry kiss, the taste of your arousal still fresh on his tongue. Your fingers tangle in his hair, pulling him closer as his tongue sweeps against yours, sharing the essence of your pleasure.

He finally pulls away, his forehead resting against yours as he catches his breath. "I've dreamed of this," he confesses, his voice low. His hand cradles your cheek as he studies your face, his thumb brushing tenderly over your swollen lips. “You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to taste you, to make you fall apart like that.”

Butterflies swarm in your stomach as he leans back on his heels, his hands sliding down to the waistband of his sweatpants. He shimmies them down, the fabric slipping over his hips to reveal the sharp cut of his V-line, trailing down to a dark patch of hair that disappears into the base of his length. His happy trail leads your eyes lower, framing the way his cock juts forward, thick and heavy, the tip already flushed and glistening. The sight makes your breath hitch, a nervous flutter mingling with the heady anticipation coiling in your chest.

“You ready?” he asks, his honeyed gaze locking with yours. You nod hesitantly, your head feeling heavy, your body languid and loose as if you could drift to sleep any second. The corner of his mouth twitches, an imperceptible softness flickering through his expression as he hooks your legs over his shoulders.

He presses a gentle kiss to the side of your knee before his grip on your thighs tightens. Slowly, he shifts forward, the head of his cock brushing against your slick entrance. The stretch begins almost immediately, the thick crown pressing into you with unrelenting pressure.

"I’ll go slow," he murmurs, his voice molten and soothing, like liquid gold pouring over your senses. His forehead brushes against your shin as he inches forward, his breath warm and uneven against your skin.

“F-Fuck, you’re so tight,” he groans, his words coming out shaky, barely audible over the soft hitch in his breathing. His hands slide up your thighs, gripping you like you’re something he can’t bear to let go of.

Your head tilts back, the high from before lingering, nullifying every painful sensation as his cock slips deeper. The room feels hazy, the air thick with heat, your skin tingling with hypersensitivity as your walls stretch and adjust to his size. “S-Suguru,” you gasp, your nails digging into the couch cushions.

“I know, I know, princess,” he soothes, his thumbs brushing slow, calming circles into the soft flesh of your thighs. “You’re taking me so well. God, you’re perfect like this.” His voice is velvet, reverent, and laced with something deeper—something that makes your heart flutter.

His movements grow steadier as he thrusts deeper, his pace still unhurried—but there’s a growing urgency in the way his hips press against yours, the way his hands tighten around you. You cling to him, your body trembling, the pleasure building slowly like waves lapping against the shore.

“I can feel you clenching around me,” he breathes, his tone laced with awe. His lips find your calf, trailing kisses down the length of your leg, each one searing and delicate. “Feels so good, baby. You feel so good.”

Your hands reach out, grasping for something—anything—to anchor you. “Suguru, please—” you start, your voice breaking into a sob. “I’ve got you,” he promises, his hands slipping to cradle your hips, pulling you closer as he shifts deeper, his movements becoming the slightest bit rougher.

He grinds his hips, dragging his length out until just the tip lingers, only to stuff it back in. His hands find your waist, thumbs pressing into the soft flesh, keeping you steady as his pelvis snaps forward with enough force to bury himself completely. The wet, obscene sound fills the room, and he groans deeply, his head dropping for a moment as his hair cascades over his face.

You mewl, thighs quivering against his shoulders as the sensation builds, raw and dizzying. His cock slides along your gummy walls, sinking deeper to nudge the spot inside that has your back arching off the couch. A sharp cry escapes your lips, your fingers clawing at the cushions as a familiar sensation blooms in your core. “S-Shit, right there,” you gasp, barely coherent, the word tumbling out in a broken plea.

Suguru’s dark eyes flicker up to yours, his grin widening as if he’s just uncovered the most precious secret. “Right here?” he teases, grinding his hips slowly, deliberately, the head of his cock dragging over that spot again and again. “You like that, don’t you?” His tone is soft, coaxing, but there’s a cocky edge to it that makes your cheeks burn.

“P-Please,” you stammer, the pressure building so rapidly it has your toes curling. He adjusts your legs over his shoulders, his grip tightening as his pace becomes measured, unrelenting, hitting that same devastating angle with every thrust.

The pressure builds so rapidly it has you babbling, eyes squeezed shut as your toes curl. He adjusts your legs over his shoulders, his grip tightening as his pace becomes measured, unrelenting, hitting that same devastating angle with every thrust. You can barely form a reply—your words caught somewhere between a cry and a moan.

“C'mon, baby,” he purrs, his voice melting into your skin. “I can feel you getting close. Let go for me—wanna feel you clamp around me as you cum.” His words are filthy, his tone dripping with praise, and the combination sends you hurtling toward the edge.

Your body trembles as the coil inside you snaps, a wave of ecstasy crashing over you so intensely it robs you of air. Your walls flutter and squeeze around him like a vice as you cry out his name, your hands reaching blindly to grasp at his arms. “Good girl, just like that,” he groans, his hips stuttering as he rides out your climax while his own begins to crest.

Suguru's head tilts forward, his lips brushing against the curve of your thigh, his breath heavy and ragged as he groans, “You’re squeezing me so tight, fuck—I don’t think I can—”

The rhythm falters and his head falls against your shoulder, his hips grinding into you one final time before he stills. You feel it then, the warmth spreading deep inside, and your dazed mind registers his groan, guttural and drawn-out, as he buries himself fully in you.

His breaths are uneven with the final pulses of his release, his movements involuntary as he rides out the last remnants of his high. When he finally leans back, his dark gaze drops to where your bodies are still connected. His cum seeps out in pearlescent trails, glistening as it trickles down your folds and pools on your ass. The sight makes him curse under his breath, his hands gripping your thighs as he lazily thrusts forward to push the mess back inside.

His gaze flicks back to your face, his expression softening as a crooked grin tugs at his lips. He watches your chest heave, your skin flushed, your half-lidded eyes clouded with exhaustion and the lingering high.

“Fuck, look at you,” he murmurs, leaning down to press a soft, lingering kiss to your swollen lips. “You’re fucking wrecked. Maybe I should get you high more often.”

#YAHOOO I FINISHED SOMETHING!#also rotten apple as in rotten apple by alice in chains heheh #geto x reader #geto suguru x reader #jjk geto #geto suguru #jjk smut #jjk x reader #tw drugs #tw dubcon #fics

71 notes · View notes

silverflqmes · 8 months ago

Note

Okay hear me out, may I request Cloud x reader fluff where we spend lovely spring morning together? Nothing nsfw just pure comfort, our cat laying in bed with us, laziness at it finest.

Off the topic I really adore your work! I'm quite new to ffvii, basically I've just started playing, but your work made me fall head over heels for Cloud haha. Anyway have a good day!

໒⦂ 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐃𝐄𝐖.

notes. hello! thank you so much for the request and the kind words akajsks i’m still fairly new to ff7 myself, but i’m glad to have amplified your love for it and cloud<3 the cat saga continues✨ i did something experimental here so it’s a little shorter, but i hope it’s okay :’)

genre. fluff + comfort

disclaimer. before any confusion arises.. sora is the name of your cat, who was first mentioned in this post if you are eager to see more of her!

cloud strife x gn!reader.

sora’s purring joins the gentle whistle sung by the breeze that swept through the bedroom window, chiffon curtains dancing to the soft tune like delicate petals.

cloud couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a taste of spring weather — of bitter cold melting into tender warmth.

the change of seasons was hardly ever noticeable without trees to flourish the busy streets with life, lakes to freeze over at the gradual drop of temperature, and flowers to splash the otherwise monochrome edge with color in the spring.

perhaps, it made the planet worth saving after all. to have been rewarded for his efforts at the very end with the beauty of the world, along with his beloved partner.. and a feline friend.

your chest rose and fell with breath, quietly, but surely, eyes fluttered shut. an unspoken trust, which your boyfriend treasured more than he could verbally express.

it was too early to even be up right now for most people.. but cloud, unfortunately, had to represent his little company as its only delivery guy and employee within the next two hours.

he fought back an annoyed sigh at the mental reminder of it.. only to remember that you had still been fast asleep.

any indicative sound that threatened to portray his irritation and spill from his lips all but melted away, falling completely silent on his tongue. because how could he possibly ruin the serene image of you all bundled up and cozy.

the exasperated exhale died all together in the stream of his windpipe as his features relaxed once more in repose.

normally he preferred taking up long distant deliveries by himself, but on this particular occasion, the client happened to live in your seaside hometown — costa del sol. a place that was untouched by the unpleasant smog of edge, and instead painted in a kaleidoscope of vibrant coats.. rather than a trillion shades of gray.

a shift in movement made his mako tinted sapphires flash just briefly before sliding to your stirring form.

his ears caught a jumbled, almost incoherent murmur ( were it not for his amplified hearing ) and cloud wondered to himself for a moment what dreams had joined you in your slumber. something lovely, he hoped, a gentle caress to your conscience.. and not the nightmares that haunted him until dawn on some evenings.

moonless nights when cloud thought too hard for comfort, let alone decent rest.

although, those had been few now. infrequent, thankfully, all because of your solace-filled presence — pressed into his chest.. and the light nuzzling of your calico kitty tucked into his side.

a silent, meow-less request for breakfast.. or maybe not. maybe it was just to ask cloud to stay a little while longer, and enjoy that which he could not back in edge.

waking up to unsullied air- a mixture of floral aromas and the soft, but welcome dripping of morning dew traveling from petal to petal, was.. sadly a rarity, the former infantryman realized.

which is why he found himself sinking into the pillows and duvets in submission, allowing darkness to greet his eyes for another round of sleep. two hours were more than enough to get dressed and to his destination. so truly, all he needed was thirty minutes to be dressed and out of your childhood home.

the hour and a half remaining could blissfully go to cuddling you a little while longer, all else drowning into background noise as he would slip further and further, deeper and deeper. surrendering himself completely to your warm company, the serendipitous quiet, and spring morn.

notes. okay this is way shorter than what i normally write, but i hope it’s still good😭 not much dialogue, just cloud being soft and at ease for a change ahaha

↳ return to main masterlist . request rules . send an ask

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toruskiii · 9 months ago

Text

I got you.

Synopsis: reluctantly going to a party, you're offered a drink by a persistent creep despite your refusal. But no worries, your best friend is there to help.

Genre: fluff (modern au!)

Character: Best friend!Blade x gn!reader

Warnings: mentions of alcohol, tension between you and Blade, partying, all characters mentioned here are as of age. Blade takes a hit (drink) for you lol. Reader wears heels.

Edit: holy shit I wrote this before I played hsr so this is very ooc whoops

[masterlist] [about me]

Both you and Blade were not ones to attend parties regularly. Instead, both of you often preferred the tranquility of your own dorm or the serene sounds of nature and music, rather than the cacophony of loud, unpleasant remixes of popular songs or the aroma of cigarettes and alcohol.

Despite the constant pleas from both Kafka and Silver Wolf for you and Blade to "live a little" and "socialize," the two of you reluctantly agreed. As soon as you both stepped foot into the party, the overpowering smell of alcohol and the unmistakable odor of someone's vomit assaulted your senses, causing you to cringe slightly.

"Oh god, this smells awful," you muttered to Blade, who nodded with a furrowed brow in agreement.

"Can we leave?" He glanced at the plastic red cups littering the floor, expressing his dissatisfaction with a grunt when someone accidentally bumped into him while walking past.

"We did promise Kafka and Silver Wolf we'd come. We can't back out now," you shrugged, feeling uncomfortable amid the overcrowded gathering.

"I'm gonna go and look for Kafka," you sighed, giving Blade's shoulder a gentle nudge. "Care to join?"

"I'll just stand in a corner," he replied, his expression deadpan as he surveyed the scene of inebriated youths. His hands instinctively delved into his pockets, retrieving his phone. "I'd rather not hunt them down either, or they'll rope me into playing pool or some other nonsense."

With a pout, you rolled your eyes and ventured into the sea of people. Navigating through, you murmured small apologies each time you bumped into someone.

The shitty TikTok blue lights only made it worse, casting an eerie glow and making it harder to avoid the random liquids (that you really hoped weren't more vomit or some other disgusting shit) on the floor.

"Where the hell are they?" you muttered to yourself, feeling increasingly lost in the chaotic party scene. Somehow, you stumbled your way into the host's kitchen, hoping for a moment of respite.

As you pondered your next move, someone tapped your shoulder, jolting you out of your thoughts. "Huh— Kafka— oh," you began, turning around to find yourself face to face with a stranger you've never encountered before. Arching an eyebrow, you tilted your head inquisitively. "Can I...help you?"

"Oh, my apologies. I didn't mean to startle you," the guy offered a small smile, shaking his head in understanding. You took note of his wavy brown locks and the plain button-up he wore, but your focus remained on finding your friends rather than anything else. "Are you looking for something? You seem lost."

Feeling a tad embarrassed, you chuckled nervously. "Oh, uh... I'm just trying to find my friends. Um... Kafka and Silver Wolf, you know them?"

"Ah, those two. I think I saw them at the ping pong table in the backyard," he replied.

"Thanks," you nodded dryly, averting your gaze. Just as you were about to leave, he spoke once again.

"Drink?" he smirked, holding out a cup of what you assumed was beer or something.

"I don't drink," you waved him off, feeling a little uncomfortable now as he pushed the cup towards you. "I'm not into alcohol, dude."

"That's a shame. It tastes good," he remarked, letting out a huff as he continued to hold out the drink to you. "It's actually a good thing to be able to tolerate alcohol, you know? It's useful for business parties and making friends."

You frowned, staring at him skeptically and then at the cup with uncertainty. Were you easily persuaded? No. But the way he was yapping right now made you feel the urge to just drink it and get it over with. However, you weren't foolish enough to do something so reckless. "I never said I had a bad tolerance, I just said I'm not into alcohol."

"Just a sip wouldn't hurt—" the man persisted, but before he could finish his sentence, a low voice interrupted.

"Thanks for the drink."

A chill ran down your spine as a hand appeared behind you, swiftly grabbing the drink from your shoulder. It then looped around your neck, pulling you into a loose chokehold. Your eyes widened in recognition and apprehension as you realized who it was.

"Blade—?" you gasped, feeling a mixture of surprise and annoyance as he continued to hold you in his grasp. His red eyes narrowed into a menacing glare, causing the other man to back off with a mumbled excuse as he hastily left the kitchen, leaving you and Blade alone.

"What the hell are you doing here? I thought you said you were gonna stand in a corner," you whined, lightly tapping Blade's arm to prompt him to release you. He simply shrugged, rolling his eyes before letting go and raising the cup to his lips.

"I was trying to find the toilet until I saw a shit-stained towel in the tub and lipstick smudges on the damn toilet lid. Lost my urge to pee," he grunted, taking a sip from the cup.

"Wait, don't drink that—" you nagged, suddenly worried that the drink might contain something harmful. But before you could finish, Blade turned around and spat out the drink into the sink, coughing in disgust. "Oh my god."

"Did he fucking pour apple cider vinegar in here? This tastes like shit!" Blade groaned, clicking his tongue in annoyance as he hurled the cup into the sink. "He sucks at hooking up ladies if he hands out godforsaken drinks like these."

"Stupid," you muttered, pinching the bridge of your nose in frustration as you rummaged through the kitchen, searching for a glass of water for Blade. "I thought you hated drinking. Why on earth did you do that?"

Blade wiped his mouth, turning on the tap to rinse his mouth with water. "Figured that if the drink did contain drugs, I'd be the best subject to test it on," he muttered, offering you a silent thanks as you handed him the glass of water.

"That's dangerous," you frowned, crossing your arms and watching him run a hand through his hair as he drank the water.

"I didn't want to risk you getting drugged either," he added quietly.

A moment of silence enveloped the kitchen, interrupted only by the corny music blaring in the background as the lights gradually faded to a deep red hue.

The two of you stood in the kitchen, with Blade hovering over the sink and you leaning against the counter, savoring the rare moments of tranquility.

Lost in your own thoughts, you zoned out, gazing downward and fixating on nothing in particular, longing for nothing more than to be back home.

Meanwhile, Blade stole glances at you from the corner of his eyes, his expression unreadable amidst the dimly lit ambiance.

"Let's just go home," he suddenly blurted out, swiftly washing the cup and stowing it away. "Screw those two."

You lifted your head to look at him, uncrossing your arms in agreement. "Yeah," you mumbled, feeling a wave of relief wash over you at the suggestion.

He noticed your discomfort, his gaze drifting down to the outfit you wore and the heels on your feet. "They hurt?" he asked, his voice barely audible over the blaring speakers.

Confusion clouded your expression as you struggled to hear him amidst the loud music. He sighed, gesturing towards your heels. "Your heels. Are they hurting your feet?" he repeated, more insistently this time. When you still didn't catch on, he groaned and suddenly dropped to his knees, his hands gently brushing against your calves as he lifted one foot.

"What the fuck—" you began, startled by his sudden action, your eyes widening in disbelief. "Blade!"

"Take 'em off," he mumbled, his voice softer now as he noticed a small bruise on the back of your ankle, evidence of the discomfort caused by your tight shoes.

"Dumbass! I'm not stepping out of here barefoot with all that disgusting shit on the floor!" you yelled, feeling your cheeks flush with embarrassment at the sight of him down on his knees for you. Your hands tightened their grip on the counter as you watched him slide off your heels.

"I'll carry you then," he retorted, his tone determined as he lifted you by the hips, effortlessly settling you on the counter so your feet wouldn't touch the grimy floor.

"You—" you began to retaliate, but your words fell silent as you were rendered speechless by his offer. "You..."

"C'mon," he urged, pursing his lips as he turned around, positioning himself for you to piggyback him. "You better get on before I change my mind. You know I don't do favors like this," he sneered, his tone teasing yet firm.

You gulped, feeling a mixture of nerves and gratitude as your hands trembled while gripping onto his shoulders. With shaky breaths, you wrapped your legs around his waist as you felt his hands slide under your thighs to support you, letting out a grunt of effort.

"...am I not heavy?" you whispered, your breath grazing the shell of his ear.

He shook his head, standing up straight now. The scent of his cologne somehow managed to calm your nerves as you rested your head against his shoulder, finding comfort in his embrace.

"No. I literally bench double your weight," he reassured you.

"No need to flex."

He piggybacked you through the crowd, disregarding the stares directed at him, while you felt awkward and embarrassed under the attention. He couldn't care less, knowing that most of the crowd was either too drunk to remember or too preoccupied with their own activities.

"Next time, just stay by my side," he whispered, finally stepping outside of the party.

"Mm...yeah, yeah," you yawned, your voice muffled by the softness of his jacket. "Thanks."

"And don't chug down the drinks next time."

"Yeah, yeah."

#honkai star rail #hsr fluff #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #blade x reader #hsr blade #blade x you #blade x gender neutral reader #hsr x gender neutral reader

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princessleechan · 7 months ago

Text

"You're the man!" Chapter 20 Written Chapter

Masterlist

⚽Chapter tags: MDNI, she’s the man au, revenge au???, cross dressing!reader, reader identifies anything but male, sports au, queer themes, university au, love-whatever the fuck kind of shape, the kissing booth scene, some steaming kissing, a good brawl, and someone unexpected, written chapter (2k wc)

⚽Tag list: @90s-belladonna @the-boy-meets-evil @lirtha97 @hipsdofangirl @justineasian @kwanisms @multi-kpop-fanfics @pantumin @wooahaeproductions @mayashu @shuasdraftsalt @lone-lone-ranger @headlockimnida @horanghaezone @haolistic @porridgesblog @jeonjungkaka @luchiet @ujimatchaaa @skzdesi @cheoliehansolie @vlbii @myghobi @sisterofsomeone @joonsytip @gyublues @alltheshineofthestars-blog @randomworker @isabellah29 @savgogh @too-many-kpop-hubands @shingsoluvely @kamabokogonpachro @skittlez-area512 @seccdlurv @chisskaa @mochiteez @theyluvfrankocean @lllucere @thomawifey @middle-of-the-earth @okiedokrie @itsokaytobedumb00 @humankimbap @zezedoesshit @teenyfinds @jeonghansshitester @aaa-sia @heyitz00 @silvsie

You've gone from arriving at the carnival in a dress and avoiding Melli like she could kill you, to almost exposing yourself to your teammates while changing from the bushes to a moving spinning teacup, and giving Seokmin a well-deserved slap to the face—all without getting caught. You're quite proud of yourself for this feat. Now, all that's left is the kissing booth.

The dreaded kissing booth. Just one more thing to get through.

Meanwhile, Mingyu waited impatiently in line, finally nearing the front, with an anxious bounce in his step. His eyes darted around nervously, and he could feel his heart pounding in his chest. Wonwoo, following behind, adjusted his glasses, let out a smug chuckle, and rested a firm grip on his friend's shoulder. "Down, boy."

Mingyu swatted him away, feeling every bead of sweat trailing down his neck and forehead. He wiped his palms on his jeans, trying to steady his breathing. The anticipation was almost unbearable, and he glanced back at Wonwoo, who seemed annoyingly calm. Mingyu's thoughts raced as he inched closer to the front of the line, his nerves buzzing with every step. “Fuck off. I’m having a mental breakdown.”

“Don’t make it obvious. You’re almost there.”

As the boys continued their conversation, Chae was grappling with customer after customer at the kissing booth. The final one, right before Mingyu, seemed to be taking an eternity. She forced a smile, trying to hide her discomfort as the man—who gave off definite freshman vibes at most—finally pulled away. His breath was a potent blend of turkey leg and popcorn, the greasy aroma clinging to her lips. She could practically feel the butter and salt seeping into her skin, and the lingering taste made her stomach churn in the most foul way.

Suppressing the urge to gag, she discreetly wiped her lips with the back of her hand, desperate for an opening to rinse out her mouth. The thought of that flavor staying with her all night was almost unbearable. She glanced around, hoping for a moment to catch her breath and shake off the unpleasant encounter, while silently praying the next customer would be quicker and less offensive.

“Here you go,” Wonwoo patted the nervous mountain of a man, “You’re finally gonna know what it’s like to suck face with Chae. Your truest most devestating victory. Making you a men amongst…well yourself. Still, an accomplishment nonetheless. And now there’s nothing–”

You hurried towards the booth, the urgency of the moment making your heart race against both speed and time. As you reached Chae, you couldn't help but flash her a kind smile, eager to take over after the marathon you ran. “Hi, I’m here to relieve you!”

The smiles on Wonwoo and Mingyu’s faces faded, and now the pats from the spectacled man felt more apologetic than encouraging. “Or not.”

Chae released a breath of relief. “Oh, thank god. By the way, be careful of the older guy coming up,” she warned, her eyes darting to a silver-haired man a couple of customers behind the line. “He’s chewing on something and I don’t think it’s gum. And for the love of god, don’t even crack your mouth open the slightest bit when you kiss. They’ll take it as an invitation.”

You furrowed your brow slightly. “Noted.”

Before leaving, Chae quietly scrutinized your appearance, her gaze searching for recognition of your features. “Have we met before?”

You chuckled nervously, feeling a knot of apprehension form in your stomach, as you shook your head in denial. “No,” you replied curtly, giving her a reassuring pat on the back before leading her out of the way.

Mingyu trudged towards you, his gaze unwilling to leave Chae’s retreating figure, softly muttering sounds of remorse under his breath. “Just my luck.”

“Oh, sorry,” you replied with a hint of disappointment evident in your tone.

"Oh! Not because of you, because you are..." He stumbled over his words, his gaze lingering on his source of dismay as he drank in the soft contours of your features. Your eyes, gentle and mesmerizing, seemed to dance in the warm sunlight, casting a spell on him. The gentle breeze tousled your hair, effortlessly arranging it in a perfect frame around your face. And your smile, though slightly awkward, possessed its own gentle yet friendly charm. Mingyu felt a flutter in his chest as he struggled to find his breath and he was unsure whether it was because of you or the lingering effects of his crush from before her departure. “You’re… you know…”

"I am?" You responded, slightly confused but perceptive enough to recognize that he was attempting to compliment you in his own boyish manner. "Thanks, I think," you added with a hint of amusement.

"Yeah," Mingyu felt a smile creeping onto his face, "Just know I mean no offense. Not in the slightest."

Wonwoo scoffed, crossing his arms. "No need to flirt, you know," he remarked, his tone tinged with amusement.

"Yeah," an outsider interjected in annoyance, flashing his belt of tickets like a trophy, "It’s not the time to go steady. You paid for your time, so pucker up so the rest of us can too."

Mingyu gritted his teeth as he turned around, his tanned skin flushed with a bright shade of embarrassment. "Why don't you both just chill out?"

Turning back to you, Mingyu cleared his throat. “I guess I should be kissing you now.”

"Right," you chuckled nervously, trying to steady your breathing, feeling a bundle of nerves coiling inside you already. "Here we go."

"Here we go."

It took a moment to find the right head placements, uncertain whether to lean right or left, but as your lips met his, there was no going back. The warmth of his breath against your skin, the softness of his lips, and the subtle tension in the air crackled like a kindling fire. Your eyes instinctively closed, hands finding their place against his forearms as you leaned in deeper, feeling the movement of his luscious lips transporting you to another realm.

When he finally pulled away, you tasted regret lingering between you, sensing his own conflicted emotions. “Okay, I think that’s worth one ticket,” he murmured, his breath fractured against the charged atmosphere.

“No, you've got a few more seconds,” you countered hungrily before eagerly diving in for seconds with even less reluctance.

Your fingertips brushed against the warmth of his cheeks, tracing the rugged contours of his face, as if committing every detail to memory for later satisfaction. Urgently, you pulled him closer, craving the taste of his lips against yours. Meanwhile, his hand claimed your waist possessively, pulling you closer as if afraid to lose the sensation, worried about ever feeling like this again.

At that moment, both of you seemed to devour the heat that the kiss ignited, a primal hunger burning with an intensity neither of you could deny. With each passing second, the world outside ceased to exist, leaving only the two of you locked in a passionate embrace that felt simultaneously fleeting and eternal.

“Hello…” the outsider sounded out. “Get a fucking hotel or something if you’re gonna get your dick wet, dude.”

The kiss ended abruptly with a hand on your shoulder roughly tugging you away from the scene. “Y/n, what the fuck are you doing with this guy?”

Your eyes shot back at Seokmin, catching the flash of anger in his gaze, but you didn't hesitate before firing back, “Hey, I was getting into that!”

“Excuse me, rock for brains. What are you doing making out with my Y/n?” Seokmin's voice dripped with venom and delusion.

Mingyu's eyes blazed with annoyance as he recognized the unwelcome intrusion that was Lee Seokmin. He had encountered the same-aged man more times than he cared to count, recalling their past battles for scholarships, facing off on opposite teams in various games, and every time Seokmin spoke, Mingyu felt himself recoil in disgust from the other's lack of sportsmanship. He wasn't a true soccer player; he merely kicked the ball around and messed about as if it meant nothing. The worst kind of colleague to have, and that was putting lightly.

"Excuse me," you interjected firmly, shoving your ex aside, "I am not yours."

Seokmin scoffed, his demeanor oozing with superiority. “Y/n, I told you your brother was going to the inferior school, and yet you’re macking with their biggest resident douchebags. I am beyond disappointed.”

“What does Yeonam have to do with this?” you asked, your tone tinged with offense at the implication.

Mingyu's gaze shifted toward you, a flicker of surprise lighting up his eyes as he began to piece together the puzzle. “Wait, Yeonam is your brother?” he echoed, comprehension dawning on him. His expression shifted into a mix of confusion and realization, a silent acknowledgment of his misstep evident in his befuddled expression that seemed to say, 'Oh, I fucked up.’

“Now that that’s cleared up, you’re about to get your fucking ass beat,” Seokmin spat.

Mingyu inflated his chest, adopting a confident swagger as he leisurely advanced toward Seokmin, his smug smile stretching across his face like a victorious conqueror. “What are you gonna do? All I need to do is hurl a ball at your nuts, and you’re down, buddy. Tears and everything.”

“That was you?” you exclaimed, now the surprised one.

Seokmin quickly tried to hush you, “Those were not tears! Something got in my eyes when I fell! You better watch yourself, Kim.”

“Or what?” Mingyu challenged, stepping closer, his eyes narrowing with determination.

You rushed to intervene, placing a hand on each of their shoulders. “Guys, this isn’t the place or the time. Let’s just cool down, okay?”

Seokmin's demeanor softened momentarily as he glanced at you. “You’re right, baby…or?”

Without warning, Seokmin swung a fist and landed it squarely on Mingyu's jaw, igniting an all-out brawl. Mingyu stumbled backward, clutching his face in pain as the crowd around them gasped, some even beginning to cheer, adding to the chaotic scene. Quick to recover, Mingyu retaliated, launching himself at Seokmin with a vengeance, delivering a blow to his ribs. You desperately tried to pull them apart, your voice drowned out by the noise of the onlookers.

Meanwhile, their tumultuous scuffle sent them careening from the face painting booth to the popcorn machine, narrowly missing poor Chan who was managing it. In the midst of the chaos, you found yourself tumbling headfirst into an innocuous display of cotton candy, the sticky sweetness clinging to your hair and clothes as you struggled to regain your footing.

As Mingyu and Seokmin continued to grapple with each other, they crashed into a stack of carnival prizes, sending stuffed animals flying in every direction. The crowd erupted in a mix of laughter and shock, drawing more onlookers by the second. Amidst the pandemonium, the distant blare of a security whistle signaled that your time to defuse the situation was running out.

Just as things seemed to spiral further out of control, your mother, the vice head of all things debutante, stepped in to intervene. "Stop it! Stop it! That’s quite enough," she exclaimed, her authoritative voice cutting through the chaos. She addressed you sternly, noting your involvement in the melee. "Y/n, this behavior is unbecoming and inappropriate! All of you! How could you let it get this far?"

Frustration simmered beneath the surface as you scowled, picking bits of food from your dress. Despite the urge to argue back, you held your tongue, unwilling to escalate the situation any further. Instead, you focused on composing yourself, brushing off the crumbs with an air of dignity amidst the carnival mayhem.

“The two of you are to leave the premises at once!” The head lady of the debutante society followed, her voice stern and authoritative as she lectured them like a disappointed parent. As Mingyu and Seokmin were escorted away, the carnival fell into a hushed buzz of gossip, with whispers spreading like wildfire about the dramatic altercation.

Meanwhile, you maneuvered through the crowd, attempting to blend in like a flock of pigeons amidst pedestrians, successfully avoiding the chaotic scene until you collided with a firm, warm body. Startled, you looked up to apologize, but before you could speak, their hand wrapped around your figure, steadying you. Meeting their eyes, you found a mixture of amusement and tenderness.

“Soonyoung,” you breathed out softly.

“There you are. You're here,” he claimed softly, a reassuring smile gracing his lips.

“Yeah, uh, a lot's happened,” you replied, feeling a wave of relief at his presence.

He took your hand, his smile growing wider. “You can tell me all about it once we get out of here.”

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mikoyamisheadcanonblog · 10 months ago

Text

Happy Birthday, Sanji!!

🍳Sanji🍳

Word Count:1201

You frowned as you stared at the recipe book and disastrous plate right in front of you. Something went wrong while you were cooking, actually, maybe a few missteps while cooking. Easy mistakes as you tried to reassure yourself with each mistake it was easy to fix, but they weren’t and just added to the already disastrous dish.

Cooking wasn’t your forte, but you had been practicing during your free time with Sanji to learn to cook for this night. It was a lot of fun as he taught you the skills you needed, unknowingly as he helped you prepare for his birthday surprise. A surprise you messed up.

You glanced at the picture and back at your dish, it didn’t look as nice as the picture or even close. Not only it didn’t have the sweet, but zesty aroma it would usually have if Sanji was the one to cook the meal. You frowned trying to figure out what went wrong and how to fix it.

“I could add more salt?” You questioned reaching for the salt but instead grabbing cumin. You stared at the recipe book throwing a pinch of ‘Salt’ into the dish before mixing the seafood pasta. It started to smell alright you could only hope it tasted as good.

Sanji frowned as he started another cigarette and watched as the ship left the dock of another island. His birthday had been special, more than he could ask for as the crew. The crew kept him busy as they wandered around the village, Nami buying him a little trinket, and Ussop, and Chopper kept him busy by taking him to a tea shop. And Luffy and Zoro share a couple of sakes with him. Each member of the crew had little gifts or celebrated with him in a special way all but one….his lover.

When he asked about his lover’s whereabouts everyone had different answers or avoided the question altogether. It was honestly a bit annoying; he had planned a special birthday with you wanting to take you out on a special date to celebrate his birthday. He had found a special romantic restaurant that included ballroom dancing and soft music. But the Straw Hat Crew kept him completely distracted and busy.

Anytime he did see you walking around the village before he could even call your name, he was pulled away or you would run away from him. It was almost like you were avoiding him and the crew was in on it. He sighed leaning on the railing of the “Thousand Sunny” and blew out another puff of smoke. The light from the only warmth he got on the cold night. In another couple of hours, his birthday would be over, and he had yet to celebrate with just you.

In the morning you had wished him a happy birthday and gave him a simple kiss before breakfast, but he didn’t see you for the rest of the day. Was his relationship with you over? You had been mad when cleaning his bookshelf and finding his porn collection, but that ended with both flipping through the pages and giggling.

He sighed brushing his fingers through his blond locks and frowned wondering what went wrong since he last saw you. He lost the reservation for the dinner, not like it mattered you had avoided him all day before he could invite you. His only birthday wish was to spend one and one time with his lover unfortunately it seemed like it wasn’t going to happen.

“Hey Curly Cook,” an unpleasant voice rang in his ear. “Luffy is hungry you better start cooking something. Zoro said behind him he took a swing of sake he got from the kitchen. He was grumbling under his breath ignoring the glare from the blond cook and went back to training.

Sanji sighed enough self-pity, he told himself. If his lover decided not to celebrate his birthday, he would be fine with it as long as he still had them in his arms by the end of the night and they still accepted his love then everything would be fine. After all, birthdays weren’t really special just another year of celebrating getting older.

He walked into the kitchen ready to make food for his captain but stopped when you were standing there in the kitchen putting some final touches to the dining table. You paused and glanced at him and gave him a shy smile as put the candle in the middle of the table.

“Hey,” you waved to him before turning to the table, “Happy Birthday sorry it is so late,”

Sanji watched as you fidgeted standing in place and continued with your nervous habit that you did when you were usually nervous. He stared at the seafood pasta you created, there was a bitter and burnt scent that filled the room.

“You made me dinner?” he asked a bit surprised. He walked to the table to stare at the food. You had made his favorite seafood pasta. He smiled at you before turning to you capturing her lips and kissing your lip. “I thought you were avoiding me,” he said.

“No,” You shook your head, “I was trying to make you dinner,” you had gone shopping earlier in the day and planned on making a cake but you left giving up on even attempting to make the cake and went and bought one.

Sanji pulled out a chair for you before he took a seat next to you and grabbed your hand, “I am excited to try,”

You gave him a nervous smile before you helped yourself to a good fork full of pasta. Your reaction was to spit it out. It was worse than you expected. You glanced at Sanji who was taking another fork full of the pasta and eating it.

It was terrible, the food was burnt, the pasta was too soggy, and was sure you mixed the wrong spices a few times but to him, it was the best meal he ever had. He smiled as he stared at you and took another large bite. But it was the best pasta he had ever. All because you made it.

“It could use a little work,” he said, “but I love it,” he had worse a lot worse. He moved your fingers to his lips and left a light kiss. “Best birthday present ever,”

“I bought the cake,” You laughed giving him a reassuring smile.

---

The Straw Hat crew stood outside of the kitchen door, Nami peeking inside watching the two celebrate a birthday dinner.

“They look so cute,” Nami said, “Good job bringing him to the kitchen,” she told Zoro. They had been tasked with keeping Sanji out of the kitchen all day and keeping him busy and it worked successfully for the most part.

“Whatever,” Zoro grumbled.

“I am hungry,” Luffy complained sitting crossed leg on the floor and pouting. He had almost ruined the surprise a few times during the day calling out to you a few times he saw you in the village.

“I got you something,” Robin said handing some extra rice balls to Luffy.

#black foot sanji #one piece sanji #black leg sanji #sanji #vinsmoke sanji #sanji x y/n #sanji x law #vinsmoke sanji x reader #sanji x you #sanji x reader #vinsmoke sanji headcanon #sanji headcanons #sanji imagine #sanji vinsmoke #vinsmoke sanji imagine #happy birthday sanji

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theredofoctober · 3 days ago

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MANNA- CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR: GATEAU

Dark!Hannibal Lecter x Reader x Dark!Will Graham AU fic

TW for eating disorders, noncon/rape, abuse, past child abuse, Daddy kink, cannibalism mentions, death mentions (including of a young people), Stockholm Syndrome

Read after the cut

---

As the night goes on, made odd by the truths held above your head, Hannibal sends you into the kitchen for the wine Will has forgotten there as though you are his little maid to be so imperiously commanded. Grumbling under your breath you slope into that other room, thinking to spit down the neck of the bottle to lend it the flavour of your displeasure.

Your gaze falls first upon a vast chocolate gateau resting on the sideboard, its rich aroma stirring awake your appetite, the pangs of which you now rarely know.

At this you feel an acute disgust at your body’s failing. No doubt some human matter has found its way into this creation, likely by blood to bring salt to its flavour, but even if by a rare chance it hasn’t you cannot stand that you desire it after all the years you’ve abstained from dessert.

Still, even as you scorn yourself you reach with one finger across to the cake and scoop from it a curl of icing, shuddering as it glazes the roof of your tongue with its silken sin.

Guilt rides over you at once: the totting up of numbers, the phantasmic sense of weight already building on your bones. In a panic you smooth over the gap in the cake left from your burrowing finger with a nearby clod of icing, hoping it won’t be noticed when Hannibal comes to cut a slice for supper.

The kitchen door opens behind you, making you jump and wipe your guilty hands together as Will appears in the frame.

“You were taking a while,” he says. “Thought I’d check on you.”

“What do you care?” you reply with a haughty toss of your head. “You’re barely here anymore. Don’t pretend to give a damn now you’re back.”

Will shuts the door behind him and leans against it, his arms folded.

“I thought you wanted me to put my full efforts into this case.”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean you should just abandon me.”

With an unpleasant laugh Will says, “I’m sure you and Hannibal get along just fine on your own.”

You think cynically of your elder captor assaulting you against his front door, biting at your flesh. A lean coyote in a gentleman’s clothes.

“You don’t like the idea of him fucking me when you’re not there, do you?” you ask, and Will shrugs, refusing you an honest reaction.

“I’m just aware of what I’m missing, that’s all.”

It occurs to you to question how often he thinks of rutting you in those elongated hours apart, or if it is only Hannibal that inhabits his mind in ire and yearning alike. Will may not have forgiven him the harm he’s done, but he certainly cares for him still.

Perhaps it is the homosexual angle of the romance that prevents him from viewing it as such; if only women have otherwise enchanted him what sense can he make of this new lust?

“Well,” you say, “if you want we can swap places. You stay home with Hannibal and I’ll play detective with the FBI.”

“Funny,” says Will. “I like our arrangement the way it is.”

You look at him doubtfully.

“So you’ve really never considered it? You and him together, the way I am with him?”

“I consider you and me together,” says Will, and he steps towards you, driving you against the kitchen island until its edge impresses a horizontal groove into your back. “How I’m starting to forget what you taste like.”

Your breath jars in your throat, and you’re ashamed by the airless, claustrophobic sensation of desire that his words elicit.

“What would Uncle Jack think hearing you talk like that?” you ask.

Will smirks.

“Not everything I do is for Jack’s approval.”

He loops an arm around your waist, his palm grazing your skin through the smoke of your dress.

“Maybe you should be thinking about him,” you say, wriggling against the hammerhead of Will’s forceful want. “I don’t think he’d put you and dear, dear Daddy onto the Lover case if he knew that you were raping me.”

“Are we?” asks Will, and there is laughter of such an easy cruelty in his eyes that you wonder how you ever thought him good.

“Yes,” you say. “You are raping me, even though you love me. Maybe even because you do.”

Your voice is frail with emotion, no longer teasing. Will touches your cheek, and even that light touch is something evil, knowing of your weakness for him.

“I never thought I’d hear you say that,” he says. “Not about me.”

You shake him with both hands, unhinged with a sudden desperation.

“It’s messed up, but I’m right, aren’t? You love me. Say it. Just say it. I need to hear it.”

With an abrupt motion Will hoists you up onto the kitchen counter, your unmoored limbs flailing around him.

“How about I show you?” he says, and reaching up under the gauzy skirt he pulls your underwear down to your ankles.

How often he disappoints you, refusing to free you, refusing you the words you beg of him.

Will kisses you from your hardened mouth down your clothed body to your unclothed cunt, and his lips are like a roaming spark beneath which you flinch in revulsion and response.

Your hands weave through the thick of his hair, and you kick at his shoulders briefly before the motion of his tongue makes you still.

The sight of Will glancing up at you between your thighs, the stirring of his mouth against the bead on which he strings you out—

You moan, yet through you, as always, is the disgust of having your flesh expressed of its need like juice from a persimmon, that he to whom you’ve grown close engages in this incest, and has you indulge in it, as well.

No longer can you envision an existence with him where that element were not part of it, nor one absent of his envy.

Even as Will devours you it is Hannibal whose taste he seeks, hunting the remnant he’d left in you that morning against the shower wall, hoping there is some trace not rinsed down the drain.

Against Will’s claims you know there is some sleeping shred of him that thinks of the hand, the mouth, the carefully trained form under the designer suits, and resents that you—his subordinate, and unwilling at that—have experienced all in place of him.

You muse upon how it will be if ever Will gives in to the cravings of man, envision him shunting you off into some corner to observe as they make violent love like the dispute of brother gods.

This, in conjunction with the roll of Will’s fingers and tongue-tip upon you, conducts a new music of pleasure, and afterwards an anger that he has transformed you so utterly as to be this easily aroused.

Scuttling your hand across the kitchen island you feel for the wine bottle, toying with the notion of striking Will over the head with it, and wonder if you’ve gone as bad as him to feel joy at the thought of his red brains and the red wine of his warm blood across you.

You’d never do it, yet the thought comes back and back unbidden. Hannibal has beckoned it in with his talk of killing, the resurrection of the poorly buried dead.

It’s as your fingers wrap around the glass that Will says darkly, “Don’t you dare.”

His face is turned against your thigh, its expression stern, though not entirely serious.

“I wasn’t doing anything” you protest.

“You were thinking it,” says Will. “That’s enough.”

Then his jaws are on you again, and pleasure crushes you flat as though between the earth and a stone.

He loves you, you think, in the midst of it. The only man outside your family that ever has, and he has treated you with greater cruelty even than Leland Frost. Yet you cannot resist affection of any kind, and so as Hannibal rightly guessed it is no longer entirely unrequited.

Self-loathing takes over in your orgasm’s decline, and you push Will away with the soles of your feet, not wanting to sully your hands with him.

“I’m bored now,” you snap. “Take your wine in yourself.”

You thump down onto the kitchen floor, swerving Will as he reaches for you with a testy jerk of your shoulder.

“Little One,” he says, and then he corrects himself with your real name, so rarely heard from him now that you are touched that he thinks of its use.

Still you leave the room, finding yourself on the bitter verge of tears.

In sleep you have one of those particular dreams that read more of latent prophecy, a canon yet to give itself birth. In a scrub of forest you crouch over the nude body of a woman, pulling from the open mouth of her gut glittering organs upon which you feast with a scavenger’s appetite.

Will and Hannibal oversee this feast in approving silence, their figures a second darkness in the night.

Why they do not share in that meal you do not know; perhaps they have eaten already of their own kills, observing with full bellies as you follow suit.

It does not strike you in this dream to loathe the thing you do, for to eat is to survive, and so to meet the approval of your masters. With eagerness you crawl up the cool length of the cadaver, ripping up carpets of meat as you go.

Only when you reach the face, upturned to the dish of the moon, that you recoil with a spasm of horror and recognition of it. You know this woman, yet cannot in sleep recall her name, nor conjure the place from which you remember her.

“Did I kill her?” you ask, for this, too, you do not know.

“No,” says Will. “Not with your own hands.”

“Your proximity to her was enough,” says Hannibal. “All those who have been even in passive orbit of you may fall foul of death. We have told you this, Little One.”

You stare into the dead woman’s sunken eyes which appear in their stillness like replicas of glass.

“But if I didn’t kill her, and you didn’t either, then why am I eating her?” you ask.

“I fear you will go mad in losing those you love,” says Hannibal. “So you must consume and accept the dead as part of you, as I have. That way both mind and memory will last, if not intact then transformed as you are by the sating of your hunger.”

“It won’t work,” you say. “I don’t believe that. That’s your religion, not mine.”

“You’ll learn to embrace your madness, then. After all, each of us three would be consigned to an asylum for our habits by those that don’t understand us. But I would always understand you, Little One, no matter what condition your broken mind was reduced to, in the end.”

Then your captor’s hand presses down on the base of your skull until you're forced to lap at the dead woman’s blood.

You awake half hanging off the side of your bed, your body having mimicked the acts of your dreaming self as it has not done since you were young. In those years you’d often jarred yourself awake by attempting to speak aloud or to gesticulate to some ephemeral figure.

That you’ve resumed this abandoned habit disturbs you far more than the content of your dream, and in a panicked rush you start out of your bedroom into the hallway, turning not into Will’s chamber—which tonight is occupied by his sleeping form—but into Hannibal’s.

The door swings open under your frantic touch, and a startled figure sits upright in the shadows, as disbelieving of you having come to him as you are yourself.

“What’s happened?” asks Hannibal. “Are you feeling alright?

“I had another dream,” you say. “I’m scared.”

You find yourself sitting on the end of Hannibal’s bed, the first time you have done so willingly. His face is an amazed blank, unable to translate the meaning of this new and impulsive action.

“Your nightmares are likely a side effect of reducing your medication,” he says, at last. “I should have warned you. I apologise; it’s my mistake.”

With a hoarse laugh you say, “What do you have to be sorry about? Everything that ever goes wrong... you know exactly what to do. You take care of me even if I don’t want you to. You’re always so sure of yourself.”

Hannibal switches on the bedside lamp, his face solemn in the belt of its light.

“That is untrue. I have many flaws and failures; you’ve seen for yourself that I’m not always as in control as I’d like to be.”

The attack with the knife, he means, or his tampering with Will’s mind, both grave mistakes, so few of which have occurred throughout your stay that only they, of all, occur to you. That Hannibal is a killer, a defiler of flesh living and dead does not present itself despite its obvious nature, for even in this he is unerring, cunning and clean.

“I’m going to let you down,” you say. “You think you can fix me, and I know how hard you’re trying, but I’m not okay. It’s going to get worse.”

Hannibal runs your cold fingers between his own until they warm.

“You say this because recent developments are frightening you. Because you assume the good that will come of submitting to mutual love will not last. You would rather propel yourself into a fit of anxiety than permit yourself the slightest happiness.”

You turn him a look of reproach.

“You know why I can’t.”

“Because we are killers.”

“Yes.”

“But you love us still.”

Tugging your hands from Hannibal’s own you say, “If I did I’d be a terrible person.”

“We can’t help who we care for in this life. That you are able to love against the bounds of your morality isn’t evidence of personal failure.”

Yet surely it must be, you think, is in fact a marker of how greatly you’ve given in to him.

You say nothing of this aloud, however, only inch across the bed into Hannibal’s arms, kissing him in the hope of ridding your mouth of the taste of blood from your dream.

“There’s time for this tomorrow,” he says, gently, drawing away; clearly he thinks you’re seeking sex, an invitation you’re amazed to see him decline. “It’s very late, and I have patients to see in the morning. Rest now. You’ll feel better for it.”

You sleep nestled against him, his palm on your belly, which for once you neither mind nor think much of, merely consoled by his presence there with you.

The following week you are suspended between shame and self-pity, aware that you have fallen by a missing rung on the ladder of pious restraint into collusion with the men that you’re unsure you can arise from.

Will becomes as present in the household as work and commitment to his dogs will allow, the continued, quiet feud with Hannibal still complicating the evident need to remain at his side.

With you Will is tactile, sensual, smothering you with the weight of his covetous desire.

"You need to talk to him about what happened between you," you say to Hannibal one night, your head in his lap as he draws another portrait of Will as some tragic hero. "He's driving me crazy. I wish you'd just hash it out together or something."

"He's lost trust in me," says Hannibal in a tone of martyred sadness. "That can't be rebuilt inorganically. In time I hope his anger will pass."

It's on the tip of your tongue to suggest that he unburden all of his wrongs in one grand gesture, but thinking the better of it you return to placid silence.

This new method of survival you have taken on, though considered wise even in your early days of imprisonment, is so indistinguishable from genuine attachment that you could not confidently distinguish the two from one another.

Amy would be disgusted with the woman you've become, pining for the approval of predators, one of which has struck up a friendship with her own attacker. It is a dark blessing that through hypnosis she has forgotten this, will read of you in Tattle Crime and frown at the strange pang she feels at the notion of you shared by the named men.

In this way you become your own accuser, sparing no empathy for the difficulty of your plight. As others would judge you so you judge yourself, are brutal in the manner your keepers have sought to discourage.

Rebellion comes in strange forms, as of late.

You while away your days in windows frosted with the turning of autumn into its pale sibling, writing the first coherent entries of the journal you've long been unable to manifest. Your prose is clumsy, your handwriting without any particular art, but in this alone you gain some tangible accomplishment and distraction from your conflict.

Knowing Hannibal surely reads your diary you consider caution, but upon realising there are few secrets left between you both you write honestly and without fear of being bent across his lap.

“WEDNESDAY—

I haven’t been allowed to talk to my parents in so long that I can’t even hear their voices in my head anymore. I guess I’m realising that I’ve been picturing strangers ever since I came here, and I don’t know how I feel about that.

Do I even miss them anymore, or is it other, made up people I just tell myself I miss? Were they ever real to begin with?

They call it solipsism, the theory that nothing actually exists outside your perception. I read that it one of Hannibal’s books— George Berkeley was the name of the philosopher. I hope I spelled his name right.

Since I was little I had this fear that I was the only real person in the universe, that everyone else I ever met just vanished the second they weren’t in front of me. I still feel that way, I guess.

My bad memories are the only proof that I’m not alone, as much as I’m afraid—or sometimes find myself wishing—that I am.

I just remembered a day my parents took me shopping around Christmas one year. We went to this huge shopping center, and it was so busy and noisy that my Mom got really worked up and started snapping at everybody as if it was our fault the whole city picked that day to buy presents too.

I guess I did something wrong— maybe I wandered off, or I said something she didn’t like. But suddenly she yelled so loud everybody around us turned to stare at us except my Dad, who looked away just like he always did. Messed with his glasses. Pretended he saw something interesting in a store window when we all knew he hated shopping and was just dying to get out of there and go home to the TV.

Five minutes later Mom tried to hold my hand like nothing ever happened. Like she forgot what she just did, or didn’t realise that it upset me. Then when I wouldn’t let her take my hand she got mad all over again, and I could tell it hurt her feelings.

I’ve always wondered how she justifies those moments to herself, or if she shoves them down so far that she can just pretend she’s never in the wrong.

If I did imagine my mother, why would I make her that way?

Anyway, I think this whole solipsism thing is why I don’t buy Hannibal’s idea of absorbing life, even if it’s just a symbolic gesture. If I can’t see you then you might as well be dead, so really the thought that something would be left of that person after their heart stops beating makes no sense to me.

Only my dreams are real. Realer than I am. But if they’re repeating what Hannibal keeps telling me then what does that mean?”

"FRIDAY —

“I spat out some of breakfast into a napkin today. Daddy Hannibal took me upstairs and hit me with some kind of leather flogger till I said I was sorry. I wasn’t, though, and he knew it. He told me I’d never get to go to nice places with him if I kept behaving in that way, and that would be the real punishment.

I keep forgetting that’s what he and Daddy Will want at the end of all this. To take me out of the shadows of this house into their light.

Haven’t they thought about how weird it’s going to look to everybody? What will they tell people? That I’m their daughter? Their inappropriately young girlfriend?

They’ll have to take me somewhere nobody knows us and no one really cares. Places we can be different people except to ourselves. But maybe we’ll become the people we pretend to be. I’d like that to be true.”

It’s as you’re finishing this particular entry that you overhear voices in one of the many hallways— Hannibal’s, and that of Jack Crawford, who’s been invited to dinner again. Perceiving a hushed secrecy to their dialogue you return to your talent of eavesdropping and sidle up to the nearest door.

It’s Jack you hear first, partway through some muttered sentence.

“—Heard about the fibre sample Beverly picked up on in Lillian Greyflower’s file.”

“A thread from a hospital gown,” says Hannibal. “Yes. She had Turner Syndrome and was undergoing frequent medical checks to monitor her health.”

“She wasn’t the only one,” says Jack. “Bryce Mulligan was struggling with Kidney Disease, Anaïs Foreau was a premature birth— all the Mask Murder victims had conditions that affected their weight and height in some way. None of them were much over five foot tall.”

So these are the details Will did not wish you to know, cautious of spooking you with the implications of the discovery. Your illness is the reason for the Lover’s interest in you: as many differences as there are between you and his first set of victims this is the one great likeness to have drawn him in.

“The killer’s first muse herself was in poor health,” says Hannibal, “and with stunted development for her age. I suggest you search missing persons records for a white, blonde female under the age of eighteen, last seen accompanying an older male family member; I believe she disappeared around the time the Mask Murders began. Look specifically for girls with growth disorders, genetic, and chronic conditions.”

“We need to narrow down a state,” says Jack. “The murderer is clearly a travelling man.”

Then, clearing his throat, he adds, “Speaking of the Lover, have you—”

Hannibal intercepts the question briskly.

“Not yet. As things are now I couldn’t possibly disturb the peace by announcing such unpleasant news. I will attempt it as soon as I can.”

Lost as to the meaning of this abrupt turn in the conversation you strain your ears, frustrated when the men’s voices lower so far as to become incoherent. Only Will’s footsteps approaching behind you compel you away from the door.

“Stop it,” he says. “You want them to catch you like that?”

Turning around, you stick out an irreverent tongue at him.

“Who says they were going to catch me?”

Will scoffs, scarcely masking his amusement.

“Quit screwing around. Go sit at the table. We’ll be eating soon.”

The dinner you find awkward in the deliberate avoidance of the Lover case, small talk expanded into impossible complexity across the courses. Having seen death in its multiples you are both angered and entertained by the senselessness of your fathers thinking you too delicate to endure what you have learned.

Jack’s hesitation you understand, being that of the three men only he thinks you wholly innocent. Your keepers, however, are purely concerned with avoiding the resulting unseemly outburst, and in this you are reminded that no matter what affections you’ve developed to protect yourself from a prisoner’s despair a prisoner you still are.

Glowering at them both under your lashes you crush a slice of ‘fish’ under your fork, watching it take the shape of the tines. It’s as you’re observing this process that an idea occurs to you, brought on by the visitor in the room. A chance to communicate to Jack that he dines with a cannibal, that he has eaten of the same people for whom his officers seek justice—

Stuffing the morsel of fish into your cheek you say, “I’m full. Can I be excused?”

Jack glances at Hannibal, his brows angled, and you realise that he discerns something overfamiliar in your tone or body language he isn’t sure enough of to interrogate.

“You’re free to leave whenever you like,” says Hannibal. “Enjoy your evening.”

“Thanks for joining us,” says Jack, and you offer him a weak smile before rushing out into the living room where your journal and ball point pen remain.

Tearing a leaf out of the back you write

‘TEST THE MEAT!!! IT’S HUMAN!” in a hasty scrawl and spit the fish you’d kept from dinner into your hand.

Your heart clatters in your chest like a train across some treacherous road as you dart through to the hallway. On a rack hangs Jack Crawford’s overcoat, the pocket of which you intend to deliver your grim parcel to.

This is the answer to the question of your freedom, the sole proof required to unlock the criminal mystery of the Copycat.

Upon reading your note Jack will take this meat to the lab where all forensic discoveries are founded, and in the makings of its DNA will realise what creature he has dined with, and what he has been tricked to eat at his table.

He will get you out of this house, give you back to your parents and end this horror you’ve been bent to fit by moulding hands. Hannibal will be imprisoned or institutionalised, perhaps Will too, if he’s discovered to know more than he suggests of his companion, or if your relations are found out.

There will be no more men and women eaten in the grand house of death, and no more will you be abused and infantilised, or forced to take your fill.

Things will be as they were before your abduction, a known unhappiness which from having lived before you know that you can bear.

Yet even as you reach into Jack’s pocket the negative aspects of this plan suggest themselves to discourage you from this rash and unplanned act.

You think of the Lover’s crimes going unsolved and continuing around you, closing in until you too are taken and locked into a doll. Even if the killer does not dare to capture you in your infamy there are the choking attentions of the press to think of, the humiliating questions as to what you have been made to do as concubine to your insatiable men.

Leland Frost would likely make some comment on it, as thoroughly as you’d attempt to avoid him, his eyes bright with a jilted humour.

“Guess you’re not my girl anymore, cher.”

“Shut up,” you whisper aloud. “I never was.”

The cold grease from the meat soaks the skin of your fingers, and your stomach turns over at the smell of it.

All your doubts have surely been injected by Hannibal’s hypnosis to dissuade you from escape, for even as you dismiss those that have already come to mind more follow, each more unpleasant than the last.

After all, these previous concerns assume the success of your attempt to rally Jack to your side. He has been groomed by Hannibal to think you mad, and a conniving lunatic at that, one poised to invent scandal and atrocities abound if it means you’ll be released from treatment.

Upon discovering the note and meat making filthy his beautiful coat Jack is unlikely to follow the command you’d penned there; rather, with a pitying look, he’ll deliver it to Dr Lecter, bringing down, unwitting, another brutal lesson from your keepers upon you.

But even should Jack believe or humour you and process the sample as is your design there is no likelihood of Hannibal submitting quietly to arrest. He is a killer, and as such will fight every man against him until none stand.

Then he will turn upon you in whatever fashion he decides, and the attempt will be for nothing, one you may not even live to regret.

The risk of failure is not worth the pursuit, you decide, and resign yourself to retreat from the hallway and from the temptation of hopeless escape.

As you turn into another room you collide with Will, who has followed you from the table.

“Sorry,” you mumble, and attempt to sidestep him, your full hand held partially behind your back.

Will takes you by the shoulders, pushing you lightly up against the nearest wall.

“Wait,” he says. “I know you’re up to something. You’d better admit it now before you’re in even more trouble. Don’t bother to lie; there’s no reason for you to be loitering out here unless you were doing something you’re not supposed to.”

When you don’t answer his gaze falls to the fist tightened upon your shame, and the set of his mouth steels.

“You’d better show me what you’re holding,” he says. “Let’s hope Hannibal’s feeling more forgiving than I am.”

#manna fic #hannibal fic #hannibal lecter #tw noncon #tw abuse #tw rape #tw eating disorders #tw child abuse #tw anorexia #hannibal lecter x reader x will graham #hannibal lecter x reader #will graham x reader #yandere hannibal lecter #yandere will graham #darkfic #dead dove do not eat

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moonriver080 · 8 months ago

Text

【Funny Story Time】

I wrote an article for my 6 pictures

I tried to machine translate a paragraph and modify it.

But it's too long. I give up.

During Links meal breaks, the chains sometimes share anecdotes from the past to improve their understanding of each other ......

Well, sometimes it's not so much the anecdotes that are shared as it is the puzzles or the creepy pasts that are shared on reflection. (And some people seem to enjoy it.

It was a spring-flowery afternoon, and the sun was just right, and mixed with the sweet aroma of the chef's well-cooked courser milk soup, it had to be said that it was a very good soothing respite for Links, who had just finished a hard-fought battle, both physically and mentally.

Everything was just right, so Warriors let his guard down and picked a conversation that had left him a bit exhausted for the next week (Oh! Don't get me wrong, it was actually quite an interesting process and development /grin/)

Huh, how could he be blamed, after all the Warriors, who was more social than the other Links, was relatively adept at grasping the melodrama of the atmosphere, knowing when to be quiet and when it was better to have a chat.

They all understood that the team was, with the exception of certain ones, clamshells that had come to life one by one. (Or maybe some of the outgoing ones are actually clamshells.) (Aha! A new way of flirting with oneself is born.)

Anyway, this is why Warriors wave his spoon smugly (like a tiny flag): "...... When we triumphed, the streets were filled with petals and ribbons, and people clustered in the streets and upstairs and on the rooftops, and though, trampled by the war, both the roads and the .. were somewhat depressed ...... Well! That part doesn't matter now!"Warriors stirs the soup and takes a small sip (any more and we won't be able to start a conversation today, Wild, the

boy's food is gaggingly good), "...brave soldiers walk the streets of Castle Town, their footsteps without the thunder of applause that rises up at the first moment, and my beloved Epona kicks and stomps (and here it's being torn apart by sunlight) down the stone streets, edged in gold, and the streets are filled with the most beautiful and beautiful things in the world.My beloved Epona was kicking and stomping along the stone streets edged in gold by the sunlight (glared at by a certain few here), flowers were thrown from all over the place to send blessings to the soldiers, and the fallen flowers covered the whole road, Aaannnnnd!Of course~ I received the most bouquets of flowers~ No matter which way I looked, the screams were like the rising of the tides that rose up and down, and went on and on and on~"

Warriors grunts and laughs as he speaks, lifting his bangs and skimming the ends of his hair.

Gee, he's always showing off his hormones that have nowhere to go.Legend smacked his lips on his spoon, the delicious food immediately soothing his prickly nerves caused by the teasing, but ......

Putting aside some of his "preconceptions", Warriors was indeed a strong general with leadership qualities, and under the circumstances, it was only natural that he would be welcomed to protect the people, lead the soldiers, gather the divided world, defeat Ganon, and bring safety to the people.With this in mind, Legend picked out the fruit in the soup and took a bite.Looks like he's popular, that's really good. Well, yummy.

(Wild has fine-tuned for everyone's tastes, the golden apple chunks added late in his bowl are soft, crunchy and sweet after micro-cooking, rich in flavor, he had asked for some seeds long ago, but Wild said that this golden apples are produced by probability,. Hummm, Legend who is the hottest apple supplier in Hylia and Loria' smiles but does not say anything.)

But ......Legend chewed another bite of apple chunks, looking at him like this is really unpleasant ah.Legend was disgusted by the image that appeared in his mind of Warriors riding horses and throwing flying kisses to stir up a cheering crowd of cold shivers, ah, can not think about it, a little stomach.[I'm not sure if this paragraph is translated correctly (because I read it myself as if something was wrong, but I don't know what went wrong).]

The Chef of Peace, who had been listening to the story since a moment ago and had somehow become a bit dazed, came back to his senses and looked at Legend, who was blushing a bit darkly, in puzzlement.

【If you want to know the full text, let me know, and maybe I'll translate it intermittently.】

Eggs①: (Three photos taken by Wind) (Price:?)

Confused by the first delivery of the bouquet

Link)

(Link, who was surrounded by civilians, gave flowers and scattered petals to celebrate shyness and cover his face)

(Link who was frightened by the enthusiasm of the people and hid in the Zelda King)

Eggs②:

A week later, another tea break.

Wars looked at Time, who was being chased and intercepted, and drank a cup of sweet and sour fruit tea contentedly.

Offensive and defensive potential is also different, sapling, soldiers are not tired of cheating, plan and then move, is also for the trick. (Completely strung together.)

Wind? Wind curled his lips as he held a small part of the empty cookie bag. Wars really held a grudge.

#legend of zelda #linked universe #loz link #lu legend #lu wild #lu warriors #lu chain #lu time #link #lu wind #lu fic #lu #loz #the legend of zelda

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chicaboom-chic · 2 months ago

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Come to Grandpa- Old! Vito Corleone x Reader. 18+

I’m sorry for anyone who read this, I cannot keep the monster inside me contained. 😥

The room smells of mothballs, whisky, and cigarettes. It’s not the worst thing you've ever smelled, but honestly, it dulls the romance in the atmosphere, romance that was already questionable, dry, and devoid of any life.

Speaking of which. You think as the door whips open with a creak, he here is. You can smell and hear him before you see him coming; labored breaths and a musty stench that mingles with the odd aroma already in the air. It makes the small office feel more danker than usual.

“Vito.” You turn around, greeting him with the brightest smile you can muster. He smiles back as he approaches your seat, flashing his yellowish teeth. It takes a while for him to approach you. When he does, you stand up intending to to help him to his seat but he swats your hands away gently, but not before kissing them. You wince.

Always the gentlemen.

“You look beautiful,” He says as he settles on the other side of the desk. His old eyes rake over your form that is encased in a tight black dress. He licks his lips, dribbling a bit.

Gross.

“Thank you.” You say out of obligation. Your stomach rolls in disgust.

Why is it always the old ones?

You make small talk with him for a couple of minutes. You listen to him drone on and on about the grandchildren from his thuggish children. He even holds up a photo of his youngest, Michael, with his child. Now Michael seemed like an interesting man; a rich, attractive, interesting man.

“How lovely,” You say sweetly. Inside You’re screaming.

Hurry up, old man.

It takes a while but the Vito finally finishes his yap fest and beckons you over. You stand up instantly and make your way towards him. You sink to your knees in front of him. You unbutton his pants with swift hands and yank down the boxers beneath. You are mildly disappointed to find a half erected cock, it makes work so much harder, but you’ve dealt with worse.

You begin by jerking him off slowly, carefully; wouldn’t want his heart to give in so easily. Vito is soon grunting, and his breaths become even more labored.

“My dear, please.” Vito coughs.

You roll your eyes, looking down at his hardened cock. Your displeasure and disgust increase tenfold as a wave of what smells like goat's cheese hits you, it is permeating near his withered-up groin, congregating near his wrinkly balls. The waft hits you in the face. It almost makes you gag. You push down the feeling as your head is simultaneously being pushed towards the tip of his cock.

Oh, Well. Bottoms up.

You swallow his cock completely. The taste of sweat and dried urine floods your mouth.

It doesn’t take too long for Vito to finish, that’s the beauty of sucking off old guys; their stamina is bust. Vito pulls you off before he can finish, and his cum promptly splatters on my face, unpleasant but it’s better than swallowing a load of stringy-cheese sperm. Vito attempts to wipe it off my face but you pull away and wipe it off yourself.

You allow him to help you up from the floor. He’s musing about how beautiful you are now. It is fueled by the afterglow of his climax and now he won’t shut up about spending a weekend with you in a resort or somewhere tropical. You play along as you open your purse. He places generous wads of cash into your purse. It is the only real joy you derive from this tryst.

You close the purse with a slam and make an excuse. You practically rush to the door. The taste of sweat and urine lingers in your mouth but at least you’re six thousand dollars richer.

I love to ruin people’s days with my stories. Hehe, hope you enjoyed.

#vito corleone x reader #vito corleone imagine #old vito corleone #vito corleone fanfic #the godfather x reader #the godfather fanfic #the godfather imagine #the god father #the godfather part 2 #marlon brando #smut

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lync-lay · 3 months ago

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my cute barista

ੈ✩‧₊˚ - barista jake! x coffee hater reader!

ੈ✩‧₊˚ - word count: 2.1k

ੈ✩‧₊˚ - not proofread

ੈ✩‧₊˚ - genre: fluff

ੈ✩‧₊˚ - synopsis: your best friend, jay, drags you out to the local coffee shop on campus for a study session. the catch is, you hate coffee and no barista has ever successfully made you something you actually enjoyed. until, one does. as each day passes, you return to the shop, not only for the drink, but the cute barista who makes it.

summer has just recently ended, marking the official start of comfy sweaters and ugg boots on campus. the leaves are starting to change colors and the weather is much colder. this is the time of year that calms you down and keeps you in bed all day. and i love it.

its morning, and as i'm laying in bed casually watching a movie, i feel my phone begin to ring next to me. rolling over to grab it off the charger, i see that my best friend, jay, is calling. jay and i have been best friends since elementary. we are inseperable and were lucky enough to be accepted into the same university.

"hello?" i say into my phone.

"goooooood morningggggg y/nnnnnnnn!" jay says, on the other line, accentuating his words. ever since we were kids, he has always been a morning person. me on the other hand, is not.

"omg jay why are you so loud its like 8 am right now." i expressed.

"its a great morning. im honestly surpised you're even up at this time."

"yeah same but i woke up like an hour ago and couldn't fall back asleep. so im just watching a movie and admiring this very calming weather."

"well im glad you're up because i was wondering if you would want to go to the cafe on campus with me and study?...please?" he asked.

i hate coffee. the taste is bitter and unpleasant and occasionally, the smell gives me a headache. jay knows this so to say that i am surprised he even asked is an understatment.

"jay i-"

"look y/n i know you despise coffee but please. you don't have to get that, theres so many other options. and i also need my study buddy with me...please?" he pleads.

jay isnt aware of how many times ive been to a coffee shop, ordered something other than coffee, and hated it. so i doubt i will be ordering anything but he's my best friend so, i agree to go.

"fine, i'll go with you but i can't guarrantee ill have a good time." i say with a sigh.

"be so for real y/n...it's a study session, you won't have a good time. but ill be there, so you will have a good time." he explains.

silence hangs over the call for a few seconds.

"jay...im gonna hold your hand when i say this...that made no sense" i confess.

"mhm i know. ill be at your dorm in 15" he hangs up.

jay arrives when he says he will, 15 minutes. and next thing i know were off to the campus coffee shop. i'm kind of dreading going because i don't know what i'm gonna get. probably just an ice water. at least i can try and get some work done.

on our walk, jay tells me about a girl he's trying to impress and i give him advice per usual. he then goes on to explain how he really needs to study some form of math formula. im too busy admiring the autumn weather to respond. suddenly, we arrive at the coffee shop.

walking in, the aroma of coffee hits me immediately. the sound of cups shaking, ice, and brewing machines reminds me why i stopped coming to coffee shops.

"what are you gonna get" i ask jay.

"im gonna get an iced americano" he responds.

"what is that..."

"it's like cold black coffee poured over ice water"

"that actually sounds terrible. how do you enjoy that?" i ask, my facial expressions scrunching.

"it wakes me up niceeeee and gooooood." he taunts me.

"next" the barista yells.

oh my gosh. the barista is hands down, the finest man i have ever seen in my entire life. as jay and i walk up, i have suddenly lost the ability to speak. my legs feel like jelly and my heart is beating out of my chest.

"what can i get for you guys" the barista asks. my eyes suddenly make a b-line from his face to the name tag on his apron. jake, his name is jake. while jay places his order, my eyes are glued to jake. the way his hair is slicked back with a strand hanging by his forehead, the way his veiny hands type in the order, the way he flashes that perfect smile. i'm so entranced, i didn't even realize that he asked me a question.

"im sorry what did you say?" i apologize.

"i asked what i can get for you" jake asks me, flashing that deadly smile of his.

"um, i actually really dislike coffee. so i don't really know what i want."

he shakes his head slowly and places a finger over his mouth, obviously thinking of an alternative to my problem. wow, he is beautiful.

"this is gonna be a little risky but i'm gonna recommend that you try a matcha latte. it's kind of a hard drink to describe but i really enjoy it and its nothing like coffee." he explains.

"okay, i'll try that." i respond with a smile, my cheeks heating up from our small interation.

"alright perfect, so just an iced americano and an iced matcha latte. and because its your first matcha, it's on the house. so the total is $4.50" he states.

"omg really? thanks bro. this girl has hated coffee for so long so hopefully she'll like this." jay says with gratitude.

"no problem! i hope she likes it too." he flashes me a warm smile.

"whats the name for the order?" jake asks.

"jay".

"alright, that'll be done here shortly".

we walk over to find an empty table and take out our school stuff to start studying. all i can think of his jake and his charm. i turn over to see him taking orders and working on drinks. the way he moves around to different stations is so attractive.

"y/n will you please stop making googly eyes at the barista?" jay says, snapping me back to reality.

"i can't help it. he is actually so cute jay." i expressed with a sigh.

only a couple minutes pass when jake suddenly calls for jay, notifiying that his order is ready. jay grabs the order and the entire time im looking at jake. jay grabs the drink from him and jakes eyes pan over to be, giving me that smile once again. he's so attractive.

"here, he says he made it extra special in hopes that you would like it". jay hands me my drink and sits back down.

i'm a little nervous to try it. the green color is very offputting and i almost don't want it. but nonetheless, i gain some courage and take a sip. jay eyes me very seriously as i do so. i can understand why jake said it was a hard one to describe. i contemplate about the flavor, going back in for another sip.

"do you...like it? he asks me.

"suprisingly, yeah i do. a lot actually" a smile forms on my face as i continue to drink it.

"thank god you actually like something. now lets get to work".

unbeknownst to me, jake was behind the counter watching me. his heart began to be beat and smile creept on his face once he noticed that my drink was almost half way gone.

the sun rose slowly the next morning and the thought of going to class is killing me. all day yesterday, i couldn't stop thinking of that insanely cute barista, jake. his smile lingers in my head and that drink he made me was so delicious.

as im laying in bed, im suddenly hit with the craving of that drink and the cute barista who made it. i throw on my clothes for the day, grab my bag, and head to the coffee shop before my first class of the day. i have no idea if jake is working but i sure hope so.

as i walk in, i immediately see him. my heart begins to beat and my face is turning red. i realize that this time i dont have jay to hide behind and i contemplate if i should turn back. but it's too late because his eyes find mine, and he gives me the same sweet smile from yesterday.

the lines moves quickly and im suddenly at the counter, face to face with jake.

"hey, there." he smiles.

"hello." i smile back.

"no boyfriend today?" i give him a confused look. boyfriend? what boyfriend? oh, he must be thinking of jay.

"oh jay hahaha, he's not my boyfriend. he just my best friend who followed me to college." i laugh.

"oh okay i wasn't sure. it's not often a pretty girl like you walks in by herself." he tilts his head and winks.

oh. my. god. my cheeks begin to heat up and i can't help my smile from coming out. y/n get yourself together.

"well what can i get for you" he leans down on the counter, now being eye level to me.

"well i still hate coffee but i loved what you made me yesterday so that's what i would like." i say with a smile

"haha the iced matcha latte, you got it pretty girl. whats the name for order." he asks, eyes never leaving mine.

"y/n. and how much?" i ask.

"don't worry, i got this one."

"what? no, you got it yesterday jake. let me pay for it." i pleade.

"nope, like i said, i got it. it'll be done soon" he explains.

"thank you." i walk over to an empty table and immediately text jay. i explain to him how jake thought we we're together, then how he called me pretty twice, and gave me my drink for free. minutues pass and me and jay geek over mine and jakes interaction when i feel a soft hand being placed on my back.

"here ya go y/n," jake says with an endearing tone.

"oh thank you. i wasnt expecting you to bring it to me." i explain to him.

"well it's not busy so i thought i would come see you before you left." this man's charm is insane. his smile is something i could look at forever, and the way his aussie accent rolls off his tongue is so attractive.

"well thank you for the drink, im off to class now."

"will i be seeing you here again?" he ask, his brown eyes sparkling with hope.

"yes, i'll be back jake." i say with a laugh.

and i kept my word. everyday for the next two weeks, i went back to the cafe. i love my morning matcha (that he never let me pay for) but i also love seeing jake. his charm keeps me coming back for more.

this particular morning, i wake in the cafe to see jake already waiting for me with the matcha in his hand. the place wasn't busy so the boy walked straight up to me, and embraced me. his touch is warm and he smells of warm coffee and autumn spices.

"well isn't this a pleasant surprise" i say with a laugh as i reciprocate his embrace.

"we havent been busy and i was missing you so i made your matcha so you wouldn't have to wait." he confesses, cheeks turning slightly pink.

"aw well that's very sweet jake, i am actually in a rush so this is perfect" i smiled at him.

"well i wanted to ask you something, but you're in a rush so i wont keep you" he states, looking a litte disappointed.

"wait tell me, i can make some time for you." i expressed.

his eyes lock with mine and i can see a little bit of worry and nervousness in his expression.

"well, i know we havent known each other long but i really enjoy having you around. i come to this job everyday in hopes of seeing you every morning. i love making your matcha for you. and i want to get to know you more. what im trying to say is, would you want to go on a date with me?" he confessed, his entire face in worry.

"awww jake i absolutely would go on a date with you. i hate coffee but why do you think i come here everyday? to see your cute face" i explain.

he pulls me in for another hug. "oh my god, im so happy". he pulls away to look at me.

"it wouldve been really embarrassing if you said no cause i um, already wrote my number on your cup."

who wouldvr guessed that my hatred for coffee would turn into me falling for a barista who smells just like it.

ੈ✩‧₊˚ - a/n: hellooooo. hopefully you guys somewhat enjoyed this. this is my first fic after not writing since um...2020...so its definitely not perfect but i wanted to get something out there. nothing too long but i still hope you enjoyed.

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