#ingenue!reader

[chouettecrivaine]

Love's the Only Medicine [Honkai: Star Rail]

Fandom: Honkai: Star Rail

Characters: Dr. Ratio

Notes: SO. First off, those of you waiting on Lyney fic, it is postponed for now because I'm stuck :( but for now I'm working on a Dr. Ratio fic and I'm having a little trouble so these are my headcanons for how a good/healthy relationship with him would actually work because I love to write fluff all the time <3

So, how does one go about romancing the Dr. Veritas Ratio?

∘∙⊱⋅•⋅Have independence. Dr. Ratio is a busy man, and while he'd of course value your relationship (why else would he be in a relationship in the first place?), he wouldn't fare well with someone who is the clingy type. A relationship that would work best for him is one where you share in each other's missions, victories, and defeats as best as you can without melding your lives into one singular identity. With the exception of certain instances where you worked with him prior to the relationship starting/getting serious (though even then, he might drop the idea of separating your work paths a little bit to ensure there is no space for rational, scientific endeavors to be tangled with personal emotions), Dr. Ratio is perfectly content to with a relationship where some aspects of your lives don't always cross. Of course he wants to spend time with you! He just appreciates his own ability to act independently and keep work and personal matters separate. (Plus I feel like he'd find independence kinda attractive anyway :P)

∘∙⊱⋅•⋅Keep him grounded. Dr. Ratio gets lost in his thoughts frequently. He understands that facts and calculations can only go so far in the real world (though they could go MUCH FURTHER in his opinion, hence his cosmic mission to eradicate foolishness) but he loves finding the rational, mathematical answer to things. It'll be up to you to navigate a little bit more expertly on this plane. If he's trying to piece together a solution to a planet's hunger crisis, well, maybe let him sort through his lofty thoughts then. But if he's simply ignoring the world and thinking for the sake of it, you'll be able to get away with poking him out of the stupor and getting him to actually communicate with the world around him.

∘∙⊱⋅•⋅Be the people person, but don't apologize for him. Veritas has a tendency to rub people the wrong way. He's rude, abrasive, and arrogant. When others say such things without realizing you're nearby, you AGREE with them. But these are all things he knows, too. In most cases, how the reception of information makes somebody feel doesn't particularly concern him. But sometimes, especially now that he's actively placing himself in the social situation of being in a relationship, talking with people in a constructive way is necessary. He's fine with defaulting to you in these instances if it makes you feel useful. However, it is simply a matter of leaving a task to the one who knows better. If you start apologizing for his silence or a prior brash attitude, though, then he gets a little prickly. He stands by his behavior! Don't make him out to be someone you should have to apologize for or ashamed of.

∘∙⊱⋅•⋅Have clear communication skills. Listen. Veritas is an eloquent speaker, and he says exactly what he means to. However...good communication is more than just saying words that mean exactly what you want them to. You have to present information in a way that others can receive, and that's where he falls flat. The onus will fall to you to exemplify that sort of skill. Now, you don't have to teach him step-by-step how to talk nicely, but being able to do so yourself and give him a gentle nudge when it really matters will go a long way in ensuring you're talking to each other and not at each other.

∘∙⊱⋅•⋅Argue with him. Like, not actually. Argue with him academically. Veritas has stated that he feels incorrect on a matter if people agree with him. So don't agree with him! Don't spark debate just for the sake of it, but you shouldn't be afraid to voice your opinion when it goes against his. Dissent is the forebear of accuracy, after all. He won't be gentle with his arguments, but he never means to condescending when you're sharing your scholarly ideas. (Plus, this will help you get accustomed to when he is actually trying to argue you in a less casual context)

∘∙⊱⋅•⋅His love language? Quality time. Wanted all across the galaxy to solve this crisis or that, Dr. Ratio is a busy, busy man. So when you come in at the top of his list of priorities, that's how you know he's in deep. If you receive a certain love language particularly well, he can adapt! But his default is both to give and receive quality time. Even just time together that isn't attentive and specifically for each other can mean a lot to him. If you're both busy with work, he can be placated by attending to your duties but staying in the same room as each other. Don't worry about distracting him, either - as of late, he finds himself distracted when you aren't around, and at ease when you are.

∘∙⊱⋅•⋅Have a hunger for knowledge. It can be intimidating to hear him denounce all fools of the universe when he doesn't give many specific answers as to what a fool is. Veritas doesn't care about a lack of knowledge; what he cares about is a lack of awareness and a lack of trying. He'd be a fool himself if he pretended as though everyone had the same access to the same level of education, or that there weren't people who gravitated towards certain skills. After all, he's widely regarded as a genius, but you don't exactly see him releasing academic journals on any musical studies, do you? (Now, could he write one? Probably. But that's not the point.) As tough of a teacher as he is, what he's after is undying tenacity; that you never falter in the face of obstacles, and that you never place your scholarship on a shelf so high it winds up collecting dust, unused. If you don't know something, that's fine - go figure it out! Don't just say 'I don't know' and leave the matter at that. Learning through experience is an incredibly strong way of gathering knowledge. Just...don't expect him to be any nicer about your lack of prior knowledge just because you are close to him or you are trying to remedy that. At the end of the day, you did fall in love with a guy who's just kind of an ass sometimes :/

∘∙⊱⋅•⋅Be honest. This is one that could go for anybody in any relationship, but it is a top priority for Dr. Ratio. He's based his entire life on searching and spreading absolute truth in every corner of the cosmos. Normally, this takes the form of objective, empirically provable fact. But he finds it frustrating if you won't be honest about your feelings or what you want, how is he to know what to do? You'll have him acting like a fool with your refusal to face your own truth! (This is, of course, a roundabout way of saying that he doesn't have it in him to be playing games. Be straightforward with him, please. It'll be much easier for the both of you that way.)

∘∙⊱⋅•⋅Don't be afraid to get a little poetic on him. Veritas is a scientific man. He understands artistic endeavors, of course, but that isn't how his brain is wired. He operates in verifiable conclusions and building hypotheses, not the more abstract patterns of intuition or leading by the heart. He can analyze and understand such things, but if you want him to be able to appreciate the aesthetic beauty of the world, you will probably have to lead by example. You won't change his way of thinking, but maybe if you see a rare bird one day, he'll appreciate the opportunity to see something so rare and beautiful instead of analyzing how far it has deviated from its normal breeding grounds.

∘∙⊱⋅•⋅Flirting is a game, but love isn't. Don't be so dull with him! Dr. Ratio would love an opportunity to subtly ash his wits about yours in a little flirtatious back-and-forth. Both in the early stages and a more established relationship, Dr. Ratio loves a good challenge and could spend all night just trying to out-flirt the other. Regardless of whether or not you're one to get flustered, he loves your reactions anyway. Sheepishness, frustration, no emotion whatsoever - whatever you feel,, he finds how you try to school your expressions into complete apathy amusing. He is hard to fluster himself, but if he continues the same line of teasing in the morning the next day, you can assume he's been thinking about you all night. However! Dr. Ratio often expects people, especially those precious few who he respects, to operate on his level. If he's truly buckling down for the long game, he'll make sure to make his feelings clear. Flirtation is always on the table, but "playing hard to get" or trying to "keep him guessing" as you near a truly established relationship is a turn off. Flirt for fun, not to manipulate his interest in you. Believe him, he would've left by now if he wanted to.

∘∙⊱⋅•⋅Look beyond his scientific approach to matters of the heart. In loving anybody, you'll have to learn how to read between certain lines. Even if you are a pure-blooded emotionally charged person, Veritas can only meet you halfway on the road to compromise. Take the time to study how he speaks and what he means- concise as he is, speaking so straightforwardly all the time often has an opposite affect on his words when he's trying to be romantic. Learn the ways he looks after you and tries to make your life easier without asking; notice how he spends a large portion of his available time with you, even if it means dragging you along to discussing things with people who he feels are completely beneath his IQ; realize that his tone may always be steadfast and dominating, but he never speaks out to shut you down or demean you the way he does to others. If you can translate all the little ways he uses to show you how much he values you, then you may just find yourself in a relationship far more enriching than you'd expect.

#honkai star rail #hsr #hsr x reader #hsr dr ratio #dr ratio #dr ratio x reader #☆ star rail #☆ dr ratio #🐚 capricorn ﾟ+..｡*ﾟ+{hcs} #🌠 pisces ﾟ+..｡*ﾟ+{all writing} #a note that didn't make the cut: HUMBLE HIM #i was going through some of his lines in the stars of ingenuity quest and #boy what is your PROBLEM #antagonizing the trailblazer just because you're a suspicious little freak #decided their vibes were bad based on nothing but ANECDOTAL EVIDENCE #i'm so serious. what is your deal. i'll kiss it out of you boy don't think i wont

[l832]

[wannaeatramyeon]

Goo Kim x Reader: Kneecaps (feat Gun a lil)

You and Goo have shitloads of inside jokes. How can you not with this funny guy.

"And," Goo sputters, wiping tears of laughter from his eyes, barely able to get his next words out. "I BUSTED BOTH HIS KNEECAPS."

This is it. This is how you're going to die.

Bent over double, clutching your stomach, body shaking and silently wheezing.

It's a pretty good way to go, all things considered.

And then you catch your breath, loud cackle finally escaping and joining Goo's. Both holding onto each other for support.

"Fuck.. fuck," you gasp, holding onto his arm to keep you up as he muffles his guffaws into your shoulder.

"Are you two done?" Comes a voice, dripping with disdain. Gun surveys the two of you, taking a drag on his cigarette. Truly two birds of a feather being morons together.

Goo, like a switch has been flipped, turns to Gun completely straight faced and tells to keep his stink away from you two before resuming laughing again like there was no interruption.

"He's such a kill joy," he murmurs in your ear once you both calm down, "Maybe I should break his kneecaps."

And you're gone again.

.

.

"Kneecaps," you mutter, catching Goo's eye as he drives and you both burst into giggles.

Gun's fist twitches.

Nearly there, nearly there. Only 5 minutes left and he can get out the car and a good distance away from you both.

.

.

"Princess," Goo shouts over, sitting on a bench and watching you and Gun exchange blows.

"WHAT!" You really don't need him distracting you as you flinch back to avoid getting punched in the nose.

"Look!"

"Fuck's sake..." You mutter, swinging a kick towards Gun's neck. It lands and Gun collapses, falling to his knees.

It's not over yet though.

With a moment to catch your breath, you glance over, squinting at the blonde.

Goo smiles wide, pointing to his knees.

What?

Oh.

A deep belly laugh bubbles up and tears spring to your eyes.

And just like that, the spar is over. It's a point to Gun.

.

.

With Goo, this happens more often than not.

Even when you're in the throes of pleasure. Especially, when it's entirely inappropriate. One of the downside of being with a guy like him; it's exceedingly difficult to calibrate.

"I'm close~" you moan into his ear, nails digging into his back.

He stills.

What the fuck?

He pulls back with a glint in his eyes and says one single word, "Kneecaps."

You snort, wanting to strangle him at the same time. Then the snort builds into snicker and a shriek until the task at hand is abandoned and you're both rolling around in stitches.

Ah seriously.

What timing. It may all be part of the Goo Kim charm but fuck this guy. Literally.

.

.

.

.

Unrelated:

#we are like gun wondering wtf is up with reader and goo #you gotta have a similar sense of humour as this maniac to get on with him #and the funniest thing is his ingenuity with grabbing anything as a weapon during fights #you would find him trying to kill sinu with chopsticks hilarious btw #i am simping hard for goo atm if you couldnt tell #lookism #lookism manhwa #lookism webtoon #lookism fic #goo kim #goo kim x reader #kim joongoo x reader #kim joongoo #wannaeatramyeon

[bigskydreaming]

I’m ngl, I’m mildly interested in the Lazarus Planet stuff coming up, mostly because I miss being invested in DC comics and also I’ve been very invested in Marvel comics for awhile, and when nature is out of balance to that degree, bad things happen.

Like, I’m not expecting it to be GOOD, per se, but it does look like radical changes across the board (even if temporary), and that’s the kind of shake-up that can rattle loose various ideas or set-ups that intrigue me and get the inspiration engines up and running.

Course, first there’s this whole Batman vs Robin set-up to put everything in place, and I’m aggressively trying to ignore all of that and just wade into the eventual Lazarus Planet stuff armed with wiki summaries, because oh look, all the former Robins have been brainwashed into being evil and trying to kill Bruce because brainwashed Batkids is something new and different and oh well, at least they’re just making this about former Robins and not Bruce’s kids so its not ACTUALLY like Cass and Duke have just been left on the sidelines again right?

Hey, completely unrelated, but who wants to join in on a “Its Been This Many Days Since We Last Fucked With Dick Grayson’s Brain” scoreboard as like a Christmas gift for the DC offices?

Anyway, my only real takeaway on this is not only are Dick, Jason, Tim, Steph and Damian all united in being evil and targeting Bruce, they’ve also all been armed with heavy-duty mystical weapons like the Sword of Sin and Cloak of Cagliostro and lol its like wait at what point do you have to take a look at how you hype up the Batkids’ own skills and danger-levels and be like, umm, Bruce really should NOT be coming out of this event alive but okay.

#im just saying they've been hyping up Dick as Bruce's ultimate contingency plan for HIMSELF and showcasing how effective Jason was at #bamboozling Bruce when he first returned as the Red Hood years ago and Tim's been characterized as My Contingency Plans Have Contingency #Plans for decades now and like basically all these kids have their own stories meant to cement them as ridiculously hyper-competent and #skilled across the board so when you keep being like but put them all together and they'll still never actually be on Bruce's level #just...near enough to be a threat to him just not an insurmountable one.... #its like....you do get that it makes all your hype of them in every other comic just read as lip service you know? #if you forever keep their dad as the ceiling their own competency and skill/threat level is capped at..... #guess what? you're actually sacrificing the opportunities for continued growth for like six different characters all for the sake of one #character who doesn't even actually NEED to be upheld as eternally unbeatable and the ultimate capstone of all skill ingenuity and #competency in the DC universe....because being eternally upheld at that tier of Peak Untouchability is also kinda the very thing #that MAKES him so damn unrelatable to a lot of readers and what frustrates them about his role in many stories #not to mention his relative dynamic with most other characters around him - friends family and teammates alike #BUT I DIGRESS

[lilibetbombshell]

#arc review #arc reader #arc reviewer #book review #book reviewer #book blog #book blogger #netgalley #st martins press #the ingenue #rachel kapelke-dale #coming of age #suspense thriller #amateur sleuth #literary fiction #upcoming release #upcoming book #upcoming book alert #upcoming book release

[delirious-donna]

The Surprise [Higuruma Hiromi]

an: it’s 2am and here I am posting this smut-filled fic because I can’t sleep and I can’t stop thinking about this man. p.s. requests are open for Higuruma specifically so drop me an ask if you wanna give me some ideas for everyone’s favourite lawyer!

pairing: Higuruma Hiromi x female reader

warnings: lingerie, pussy drunk Hiromi (it’s canon don’t fight me), multiple orgasms, unprotected sex (wrap it folks) and other goodies

Masterlist

“Will that be everything for you today?” The cheery assistant asked offering a genuine smile whilst they rang through your purchases and packed them carefully into a neat little box.

Your stomach fluttered with the thought of what might transpire this coming weekend, a long-planned weekend that couldn’t arrive quick enough. The delicate tissue paper wrapped around the items inside the box before the assistant closed it over, tied a ribbon securely and placed it in a paper bag.

“Yes, that’s it. Thank you for your help earlier, I appreciate it!”

With a bounce in your step and a sizeable dent in your bank balance, you exited the boutique store to daydream about your husband’s reaction to your little splurge. Neither of you were accustomed to dropping large sums of money so randomly, both believing that an air of caution and frugality would see you through any potential storms on the horizon, but you had walked past this store so many times and finally been tempted into their den of sinful delights.

Inclusive-sized mannequins displayed a range of differently styled lingerie, from demure bridal wear to raunchy strips of leather and wide mesh that would leave very little to the imagination. At first, you were convinced it would only be window shopping, however, when you spied an elegant-looking black bodysuit that seemed like it would hold all your bits in without compromising the sex appeal element, it was game over.

Once you were interested, the friendly young assistant swooped in and soon you were trying it on in the fancy dressing room. The lighting was complimenting rather than garishly fluorescent, and the lull of soft, sensual music added to the overall experience, one you were rather enjoying. The strapless bodysuit hugged your curves and accentuated your décolletage nicely. Clearly, it was designed by scientists to support your breasts without cumbersome straps, and you silently praised their ingenuity. Paired with crotchless fishnet tights that you could secure beneath the suit—a suggestion from your enthusiastic little helper—you knew that Hiromi would likely lose his mind and you couldn’t wait.

Your poor, overworked and perpetually exhausted husband had been burning the candle at both ends for the past nearly four months, neck deep in a case that if he were to win would be a monumental victory in his career. In support, you packed him off every morning with a full lunch consisting of his favourite foods, mostly to encourage him to actually eat instead of consuming mug after mug of rancid instant coffee. In your evenings, you helped him go over witness testimonies, read over his arguments for clarity, and did everything you could to lighten his load around the house. It wouldn’t be a permanent arrangement, you both knew that, and to say he appreciated your support was an understatement.

That’s why when he told you that it was all drawing to a conclusion and that he was cautiously optimistic it would end in his favour, you revelled in that knowledge. Whether it did come to fruition or not, his weekend would be free, and he promised to spend some real quality time with you without the cloud of looming work. There was nothing more he could do, no more past cases he could study and the thought of basking in his undivided attention warmed your heart and soul.

With two days remaining before your scheduled weekend plans to do absolutely nothing but relax and unwind in each other’s presence, you again peeked at the box you’d tucked into your side of the wardrobe, away from prying eyes. Maybe it was a bout of nerves, a moment of body consciousness, that made you pull your surprise out to examine the contents. Whatever it was, you worried your bottom lip once the intimate outfit was laid out on the bedspread.

“What was I thinking… this is too much,” you quietly scolded yourself.

Flopping beside the expensive scraps of fabric, you brushed a palm down your face and reminded yourself that you looked fucking divine in the changing room of the boutique, so why would it be any different now? More so, you knew deep in your heart that Hiromi adored you and thought you were a goddess, one he claimed he didn’t deserve.

A few moments later, you stood in front of the mirrored wardrobe to scrutinise your reflection. Your eyes narrowed as you tugged the sweetheart cups into place and felt the soft squish of your breast jiggle inside. Turning to the side, a hand ran the length of your torso with a grin unfurling at the tight hug of the sheer-panelled fabric. Damn, your backside looked real good from this angle. But maybe the fishnets were too much, you mused, turning this way and that.

You ran your fingers through your hair, wondering if you should try to style it, maybe give it some more volume and texture. It was at that moment, whilst making kissy faces at your reflection with your hands scrunching handfuls of your hair and up on your tippy toes to extend the length of your legs, that the bedroom door opened, and you froze like a deer in headlights.

~

Higuruma Hiromi was on cloud nine. Not only had he won a career-defining case against all the odds, but the judge had also taken less time to deliberate than anyone expected they would. After a hearty swig of celebratory champagne drank from crappy paper cups with his partner and their secretaries, he was on the first train home to truly celebrate with the only person that mattered—you.

What he didn’t expect to find when he entered the house as stealthily as he could manage was the vision of you standing in the middle of the bedroom looking like one of the pin-up models from the magazines he would hide under his mattress as a young man.

Like a slightly tipsy house cat, he tiptoed his way through the rooms, listening for signs of you and driving straight towards the bedroom to surprise you with his unannounced return. The door bounced open on its hinges and he stood, shell-shocked for a moment before it turned to white-hot appreciation.

You looked beautiful, stunning, breathtaking even. There weren’t enough colourful adjectives for how he felt about you at any given time, but right now, modelling a black bodysuit that hugged both your butt and your breasts, he was entirely dumbstruck. Hiromi didn’t know where to look, or whether you’d rather he look away given your strangled yelp of surprise at his sudden appearance. You made no effort to cover yourself or shove him out the door, no, you both faced one another as if neither of you knew what to do or say.

His eyes continued to betray him, slowly caressing the length of your figure and finding new things to appreciate; the sweetheart cups, the gauzy panels that allowed him glimpses of your skin beneath, and not to mention the fishnet tights. He hadn’t seen you wear anything like those since your dating years, and he had forgotten how much he missed them, or how many he had ruined by ripping through the gusset in his haste.

“What are you doing home?” You glanced at the alarm clock on the bedside table and back to your husband, heat filling your face but something else followed on the tails of your embarrassment, something more pleasant.

Hiromi ran this thumb over his mouth, gaze pointedly fixed on your chest, and you cleared your throat with emphasis until he finally met your eye and the arch of your eyebrow. Already his neck looked red, like a rash had spread from below the collar of his shirt and travelled towards his jaw. If you could describe a person as having hearts for eyes, it would be one Higuruma Hiromi and you adored him for his open adoration.

“We… I won,” he managed weakly, smiling as if coming out of a daze and you blinked for a moment while processing the words.

“You won?”

He chuckled. “I won.”

A wealth of emotions passed over your face until you ended with ecstatic pride, tears near pricking your eyes as you launched yourself into his arms and peppered his cheeks and nose with enough kisses to make him blush more furiously. His hands settled on your hips, his touch more hesitant than you would expect given the circumstances and you pulled back to give him a questioning look.

“What’s wrong? I thought you’d be more excited than this.”

“Darling…” he started, skimming his fingertips up and down your sides before rounding to your full backside and squeezing as he spoke. “What’s this?”

In your joy, you had forgotten that Hiromi had walked in on you wearing the lingerie that was meant to be for this weekend and meant to be a surprise. You guessed it still had been, although not the one you planned. “Oh, just a little something to show my hardworking man that I love and adore him. Nothing much.”

“Nothing much…” he repeated in a disbelieving whisper. A finger ran the length of your spine, from the top of your backside to near the base of your skull, dragging it slowly and watching you shudder beneath his deliberate touch. Your shoulder blades shifted, pushing your chest out further and into his, which earned you a groan of appreciation.

“I wouldn’t call this nothing much. You look like a wet dream come to life.”

He walked you backwards, the scent of champagne hot on his breath and your stomach curled into a mass of twisted anticipation—heavy in the depths of your belly. Your thighs crashed into the edge of the bed and Hiromi used your moment of imbalance to shove you atop, quickly shucking out of his jacket and crawling over you.

“Hiromi,” you squeaked between peals of laughter. The man in question only hummed in response, his hooded eyes heavy with nothing that spoke of fatigue. The whisky colour of his eyes appeared blown almost completely black by the dilation of his pupils, and he licked over his lips in what looked like anticipation of a hearty meal.

That meal was you…

Any protest you might have offered died in your throat when he claimed your mouth like a man possessed. His tongue curled over your teeth, pushing the memory of champagne into the space he dominated and greedily swallowing your answering moan. His forearms bracketed your head, keeping you caged and unable to run from him, not that you had any desire to, not when you could feel the press of his cock thickening against your lower half.

Loosening the knot of his tie with one finger, you took the moment to grab fistfuls of the shirt at his back, tugging the tails out of his trousers and sliding your palms beneath the starched surface to scratch along his spine. Hiromi shuddered, the disconnect of your lips an audible pop that left a web of saliva between you, only breaking with a quick swipe of your pink tongue.

“I don’t even have my make-up or hair done, you beast!” The half-hearted protest fell on deaf ears, or so you thought when his mouth moved to your neck and down to your collarbone, sucking little blooming lovebites on his journey. When he reached the abundant swell of your breasts, he glanced up whilst his tongue pathed across the top of your left breast, dipping into the valley between and then resuming the path over the right.

“You think I need face paint or styled hair to love you more? Fuck, sweetheart… I nearly came in my briefs the minute I opened the door.” The length of his aquiline nose nudged between your breasts, nuzzling the soft mounds like a cat warming by the fire. Carding your fingers through his hair, you wriggled beneath him and let out a breathy sigh, the weight and conviction of his love settling over you in perfect comfort. There would be no more argument from you, and Hiromi won for the second time that day.

With methodical slowness he kissed his way down your body, stopping to lave the sheer panels at either side of your abdomen and forcing you to arch from the warm sensation of his eager tongue. You’d barely managed to get his shirt off his shoulders before he was exploring you like this was his first time with your body. The white button-up hung down his back, sleeves caught by his elbows, and he made no move to strip it off much to your annoyance.

He stopped abruptly when he reached your pelvic mound, chin resting there whilst his fingers trailed the arch of your foot, up the inside of your calf and tickled behind your knee. “Stop that, mister!” You scolded with laughter threatening to bubble out.

“Spread ‘em and I will,” he challenged with a smirk.

The space between your freshly parted thighs became his home, an arm wound around your hip pawing at the fat of your thigh and the line where it met your arse, eliciting shivers that rippled over your skin like a calm lake disturbed by a skimming stone. He fingered the two snaps that kept the bodysuit in place, stroking firmly over your clothed cunt and pushing the barrier deeper until it started to feel sticky from your arousal. Looking all too smug, he freed the snaps with a grunt of satisfaction, sure that his next step would be to rip through the gusset of your raunchy fishnets so he could taste you. That moment never came.

You felt the vibration shudder through your husband, his head falling forward to obscure what you could see of his face, and you rocked your hips back and forth in invitation. The cool air of the room contrasted by the hot fan of his breath on your slit made you clench around a disappointing nothing, frowning at his sudden pause.

For a long moment, there was only silence. When he looked up, his expression nearly stole your breath. Thick black eyebrows pinched together, visible strain around his drooped eyes and a throaty whine made your pussy flutter with need. This was the Hiromi that only came out to play every now and again. The one who would wring you like a wet dish towel for just one more orgasm, one more mouthful of your hot nectar.

“Crotchless, really?” he murmured, dragging a finger across your puffy folds where the thin membrane of the tights should have resided and you nearly jolted upwards to the ceiling, having forgotten that little fact in the heat of the moment.

Cupping his cheek in your palm, you gave a cheeky wink. “Don’t think I’ve forgotten about all the pairs of tights you’ve ruined over the years. These were just a… precaution.” Hiromi groaned, thrusting his face into your pussy without warning. The flat of his tongue ran the length of you, making you perfectly slippery in mere seconds, only for the tip of the wet muscle to fuck into your entrance immediately.

“Oh, fuck… Hiro!”

You yanked great tufts of his hair to no avail; he was lost to eating you out like a man starved. The prominent slope of his nose slid back and forth across your bundle of nerves, and it lit up your insides like the continuous explosion of miniature firecrackers.

Whining from his sudden onslaught, you tried to run by easing up the bed, but your attempts were shot down in flames by sharp insistent tugs of your hips. Hiromi was enthusiastic at the best of times when it came to going down on you, but it was nothing compared to right now. The wet squelching sucks of his lips and tongue flooded the bedroom, only being accompanied by your decadent moans and panting breaths as you tried not to lose your sanity entirely.

Hiromi was lost in you; the scent of your favourite body wash, the taste of your arousal when it trickled from your core mixed with the slight salt of your skin, the plush silk of your thighs beneath his prodding fingertips and the unrestrained noises that caressed his ears.

He almost missed your orgasm so clouded was his mind in the quest to turn you into a puddle of liquid goo for only his consumption. The wave of it crested through the length of your body, vibrating every limb and twitching each nerve ending. Your spine arched from the unmade sheets, the hand coiled tight in Hiromi’s hair spasming and tugging without even meaning to and that’s when he noticed. Without missing a beat, he wrapped his lips around your pulsing clit and sucked it deeper into his mouth.

Stars winked into your vision at being thrust from one orgasm directly into another so violently. Your pussy fluttered ceaselessly, a craving deep in your gut to be filled at all costs, yet right now all you could do was hold on for dear life whilst you bucked and rutted against your husband’s face, wetting it thoroughly. He nosed at your quaking thigh, sharp incisors nipping your yielding flesh until you yelped and tried to close your legs without success.

You became aware of movement, the absence of shoulders beneath your thighs and you blinked to find a desperate predator stripping off his clothes whilst prowling back and forth at the foot of the bed. Hiromi grasped his cock, tugging it down to the base to spread the leaked precum that continued to dribble from his cockhead. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he had already cum, but he was always the excitable type who would leak and leak until you did something about it, usually opting to take him down your throat until he convulsed and spilt everything he had to offer.

Your hand trailed lower down your body, fingers playing in the spit-soaked mess he’d left behind in his hurry to stand and strip. Hiromi whined; head cocked to the side as he watched you play idly with your puffy lips flooded with the surge of blood and circling your pert little pearl. He fucked his fist harder, the other hand rolling his heavy balls until his stomach sucked in and your nostrils flared in warning.

“C’mere mister lawyer, I don’t want you wasting your orgasm when it could be filling me nicely.”

How quickly the tables could turn. One minute he was the predator, pawing and demanding, taking what he wanted without question, and the next he was the prey. Trapped on his back with cheeks a ruddy hue and eyes that begged for clemency. Your much small hand encased his dick, twisting your palm on each upward stroke while you straddled him and rocked yourself against the balls he’d just been palming.

His hands shook with restraint as they reached for your breasts, filling his broad palms and massaging them until you dipped low to claim his lips. You could taste yourself on his tongue, in his mouth and the sensation empowered you, fucking his throbbing cock through your folds until he twitched and whimpered some more.

“Please… fuck. Need to be inside. Might not last. God, you’re so fucking sexy. Don’t deserve you.” Hiromi babbled every syllable, sounding drunk when there was little to no alcohol left in his system.

His fingertips dipped inside the cups of your bodysuit, tweaking at your nipples and you indulged his silent request by allowing him to fold the cups down and let the spill of your tits fill his face. With renewed vigour and enthusiasm, he mouthed at you and ran his tongue in circles around your nipples one at a time.

You keened at the familiar sensation, swept away by a current of pure indulgence when he moved to suckle you. It was the perfect moment to strike, with Hiromi distracted in flicking his tongue over and over, round and round your swollen bud, you guided him to notch at your entrance and slowly sank onto his needy dick. He grunted; his grip tightening on your waist, but he refused to come up for air, continuing to nudge his nose into your breast, lips pulling the nipple taut until he finally released with a gasp.

“Fuck, I love you. I love you more than I can express.”

Hiromi worshipped you with his gaze, eyes full of devotion and unbridled passion whilst you rode him steadily. The sticky pap pap pap of your pelvis meeting his was the soundtrack to your lovemaking, because beneath the sexy lingerie and the ideas you had planned for the weekend, that’s what this was and always would be. You knew he didn’t need the extra faff to love you with his whole heart. You knew that he was aroused by you simply walking through the kitchen in a pair of his boxers.

You knew he loved you for you.

His dappled cheeks darkened further, the furrow of his brow telling of how he was trying to stave off his release, but you wanted him as undone as you had been, and you would not be denied. Leaning forward, your palms found purchase on his shoulders, breasts bouncing freely in time with your hips, and you squeezed around his shaft until the vein in his temple popped and he let out a guttural groan.

Hiromi grabbed around your middle, flipping you up and over so that he could thrust himself into overstimulation without hindrance. Pressing your thighs to your chest, you heard the telltale rip and knew that another pair of tights had fallen victim to Higuruma Hiromi despite your best efforts to keep them safe. His swollen cock pumped thick spurts of his milky cum against your cervix, filling you to the brim yet continuing to sloppily thrust in and out.

“-cum again… gotta—fuckkk. You’re so tight,” he bit through the words, fighting the steady burn of overstimulation to see you orgasm for the third time and you were close. A glob of spit landed against your clit, thick fingers shaking from exertion rubbing the frothy mess into you with insistent motions. He was a man possessed, falling apart for him was as easy as drawing breath and he caught you on your free fall.

You chanted his name in some semblance of a prayer, thrashing and clawing at anything you could reach until you milked him again and he lost the ability to hold himself up. Hiromi fell atop you, his face pressed into the juncture between your neck and shoulder, hot shuddering moans stifled by his mouth on your neck while he weakly tried to bear some of his weight onto an arm.

“Stop squirming, you’re not that heavy, Hiro,” you teased with a light slap against his back.

Once you could both speak without sounding winded, you combed your fingers through his sweat-dampened hair, moving the strands that stuck to his forehead away until you could trace his eyebrows, his jaw, and the bridge of his nose. “Y’know… you ripped my tights—again.”

Hiromi chuckled, rubbing his cheek against your chest. “I did, and I’d do it again. Maybe give them a miss if we do this again, hm?”

“You liked the surprise then?”

“I already told you that I did, not that I needed it. All I ever need is you.”

It was your turn to chuckle, booping the tip of his nose. “Maybe when I show you the receipt, you’ll change your tune.”

“… sweetheart. How much did it cost? Don’t roll away, missy! Answer my question. Hey. Hey! You have to answer the lawyer when they ask a question.”

#delirious writes #higuruma hiromi #higuruma x reader #higuruma smut #jjk higuruma #hiromi x reader #hiromi smut #higuruma hiromi x reader #higuruma hiromi smut #jjk smut #jjk x reader

[moonit3]

THE PERFECT LOVER!

➥ warnings/notices: yandere, violence, obsession, codependency, blood, murder, gender neutral reader but you are into guys only, axel is a little sh*t at first but then becomes a yandere, reader’s ingenuity, implied depression, slow burn, stalking, obsession.

➥ yandere! rent-a-boyfriend x gn! reader

➥ synopsis: desperate to be loved after rejections and being stand up numerous times, you hire a rent-a-boyfriend to delude yourself that someone actually loves you.

➥ a/n: with the poll done, here the post choose by you guys! for the story, i think i got this idea from the rent-a-girlfriend manga? but the story is pretty boring and don’t lead to anywhere as every character dumb ^ ^ , so i have decided to write something based on this plot with yandere, blood and some violence. this piece won’t have any smut on it, sorry. this work is longer than my others, aware.

➥ like every start of the weekend, you are left to be alone at a friday night that you believed to be the day that you were going to meet your soulmate, but that was wrong. turns out the guy isn’t coming up for this second date as he texted, sorry. but you aren’t as attractive as I thought you would be!, resulting in you paying the drink you ordered was you were waiting for him to show up and walking back home.

➥ arriving home, you just throw yourself into the bed, ignoring the cute clothes and makeup you put on to impress that idiot, that doesn’t matter with the tears already flowing down to your chest. why this keep happening to you? all people you know or see in the streets are happily living their lives with someone at their side, even having children after years of being together. but you, you didn’t even got to the second phase of dating nor a boyfriend, all guys would just ghost you after the first date (if they even bother to show up).

➥ could it be that you are destined to be alone? your heart is breaking piece by piece with every failure that lead you to a final attempt in order to make you feel less lonely, a rent-a-partner dating site. it’s really bad that you are hiring someone to pretend to be your love, your are paying them to make up for your loneliness. you are quite pathetic, right?

➥ scrolling at the numerous pages full of candidates, you came across one that easily called your attention. axel, auburn hair with freckles all over his face and of course, a cute smile! the picture itself made you blush and already imagine the millions scenarios with him. a picnic at the park, maybe a shopping date where he buys you the jewelry you always wanted or even holding your hands! stay chill, [name]. he is a rent-a-boyfriend, not a real one, he is getting paid for it.

➥ and you did hire him for a completely service next day, your heart start beating faster and you couldn’t help but spend some hours preparing the perfect set of clothes to impress axel. something that is both casual, yet classy to give him the impression that you aren’t desperate for this nor that you never had a properly relationship before, nah, you are just trying to forget about your exe (at least that what you’ve told in your bio).

➥ once the day finally arrives, you put the best clothes from your wardrobe and waits for axel to show up at the cafe where the date will be set. sitting next to the glass window, taking a sip your favorite drink, he arrives. the redhead boy sit in front of you with that smile on the face, already acting and analyzing you from head and toes, oh god. he is even handsome in person!

➥ the date start so good! he is truly a gentleman with his manner and his acting is amazing, the way he holds your hand at every moment and how he pays attention in whatever you are talking is more than enough to make you blush. you feel lucky to have hired a guy like him, he truly makes the experience feels to real that you ended paying him more just to stay a little longer than you planned at first, and of course, he made it worth it.

➥ when his job was done, axel walked you back home despite not having do it, but he did and even hold your hand in the way. he said it’s to protect you from any possible danger or guy that might try to flirt with you, making you blush more and more (his plan is working!). once you got home, he kissed your forehead and waited until you got inside to leave with that smile of his, happy that everything is working out perfectly.

➥ to you, he is the perfect boyfriend that you always wish to have since the very moment you learn about romance, that’s why you are going to hire him more. and to axel, you are more than willingly to pay more than usual just to him pretending to be your boyfriend, aren’t you a little silly? you must be really lonely to have hired him from that stupid site, but he isn’t complaining, after all, you are the one paying him.

➥ then more and more dates happen, axel pretending to be your boyfriend while you began to truly falling in love with him, completely forgetting that he is just with you for the money and ranks of the enterprise he is part of, yet it’s easy to notice that you believe that axel is in love with you, that he will stop being a rent-a-boyfriend to become your real boyfriend. so you propose it to him after many dates, only to be rejected.

➥ his laughs are tormenting your mind and his words are unforgettable. you really thought that i loved you? you are so funny, [name] and quite pathetic too. do you really thought that i would stay with you if wasn’t the amount of money you spend on me? you are delusional for thinking that you are worth of my love. with that, you ended the contract with axel and leaves him immediately with tears ruining your makeup and clothes. he expected that you would apologize to him, but no, you blocked him from your social medias and deleted the photos that you posted with him. despite being his highest paying client, axel moved on to others clients and you moved on to find someone else.

➥ a couple of weeks passed and he couldn’t stop thinking about you at all. the expression you gave him whatever he would surprise you, the small gifts you gave him that he always wanted and the kisses you two share when it was his time to leave. why is thinking about it? you were just a client like everyone else, but why you are in his mind? he needs to stop thinking about you. so he began taking even more to job in an attempt to forget you.

➥ it was working until he catch a glimpse of you during one his job, you are serving tables at a expensive restaurant that his date asked to come and there are visible marks of dark undertones beneath your eyes. did something happened to you? he wants to ask it, but that would ruin the date and he won’t get his payment, so he keeps to himself and tries to pay attention on the woman that hired him.

➥ at some point of the date, he excused himself to go the bathroom, where he got hear some faint sounds coming from the kitchen and of course, he wanted to check it. there, he saw you hugging another coworker of yours in tears and your voice broken him, the way you spoke to your friend about being stupid enough to think that you are worth of love and how you are never going to fall in love again. axel knew that he did hurt you, but never expected it to hurt you so much to make you feel horrible…he needed to apologize.

➥ after his date, axel wait for you at the back doors and as expected, you were there, but weren’t alone. there is another guy standing next to you, someone he recall to be another waiter of the restaurant, someone who is too close of you with a arm around your waist. you replaced him? no, you can’t do it. axel began to talk, at least try, about his mistake and how he will repay for all the things you did for him, he even knee on the ground to ask for your forgiveness for his acts.

➥ it’s embarrassing that he is asking forgiveness from someone he treated like trash, but axel has to do it to beg for your forgiveness and to get back together with him, this time to become a real couple til their last breath on earth. i know that i was an idiot, a fucking horrible person and that y-you deserve someone better than me, but i promise that i have changed to be someone better just for you! let me become your boyfriend, a real one this time and then we get married one day , have a family if you want and grown old together. and he spoken even more til he loses his voice.

➥ you didn’t speak, not able to talk for hearing so much of axel’s rambling, but you did slap him harder. he is acting like he is the victim in this situation and that made you yell at him for a couple of minutes til you were done. the emotion you put in your voice made axel cry of guilt and once you left him along your friend, the redhead began rethinking about the ‘relationship’ you two shared weeks ago. it was so perfect and he ruined that.

➥ after that, axel began stalking you in his free time and leaving gifts for you in your doorsteps, hoping that you would accept his handwriting notes full of apologies and money, only to be left devastated when you didn’t even bother open the letter and throw it away in the trash. but he didn’t give up, no, he still has hope to change your heart and accept him once again.

@moonit3 writings

#yandere #yandere oc #yandere headcanons #yandere imagines #yandere male #yandere male x reader #yandere original character #yandere writing #yandere x darling #yandere x reader #yandere x you #tw yandere #yandere headcanon #yandere x y/n #yandere x gender neutral reader #gender neutral reader #my oc axel #yandere rent a boyfriend #➥·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳ moon writings

[starstruckunknown-princess]

Clematis - Anthony Bridgerton x Reader

Clematis (Clematis) - Meaning: Ingenuity, cleverness

Summary: Anthony's lover comes up with a way to see him after the ball.

Pairing: Anthony Bridgerton x Reader

Word Count: 1504

Warnings: SMUT, probably poorly written cunnilingus (F receiving), reader has female anatomy, Regency era gender politics, Anthony loves giving head

Day 15 and not sure how I feel about this one. Getting it in under the wire, it's almost midnight where I'm at. I just want a man to come in through my window and eat my 😼 okay???

In Bloom Masterlist

Likes, Comments, Reblogs are ALWAYS appreciated! ❤️

If this was how Anthony Bridgerton kissed, you couldn’t imagine how else he could make you feel. His lips were firm against yours, but gentle, coaxing, his large hands tracing down your neck and along the line of your decollete which made your breath hitch. 

Part of the intoxication was the danger of the situation — you were the daughter of an Earl, a respectable lady of the Ton, and if you were discovered with Anthony Bridgerton’s hands and lips all over you, you would be ruined. 

You broke the kiss, needing an influx of air or you would surely faint. Anthony rested his forehead against yours. 

“I need you,” you breathed out, “Anthony, I need you.” 

He ran a delicate finger down your chest, “Not here, dearest.” 

“Then where? When?” You couldn’t help the whine that escaped you as you pressed your pliant body against his firm one. 

He sighed, dropping his forehead to your shoulder. “If only I could whisk you away from here without drawing suspicion.” 

An idea came to mind — it was risky, but if he agreed you could continue feeling like you were on fire, and oh, how you wanted to burn. 

“Come to my home, tonight,” you whispered, gasping a little as his lips pressed against your neck, licking over your jeweled necklace. “There’s a trellis just under my window, you can climb right up.” 

“You wish for me to defile you in your own bedroom?” Anthony growled against your neck, “Naughty girl.” 

He agreed to the plan nonetheless, and you straightened yourself before heading back to your parents, claiming a headache and asking for the carriage. 

“But dear, you haven’t danced with Lord Hollingsworth yet!” your Mama declared, having selected the oh-so-boring yet oh-so-available man as your best hope for marriage at the beginning of the season. 

“Now, now Cecelia,” your Papa chimed in, “if the girl is unwell we shan’t force her to dance. I’ll call the carriage, dears, you two gather your things and say your goodbyes.” He nodded at you and ducked away, eager to get home as usual. 

From across the ballroom, you caught Anthony’s eye and nodded slightly. He winked, sending the butterflies in your stomach into a frenzy. He was to give you ninety minutes to make sure your parents were asleep, then scale your trellis like a hero in a romantic novel. 

Immediately upon your return home, you excused yourself upstairs. Your maid helped you undress, but you dismissed her quickly, claiming you could handle taking the pins out of your hair on your own. Over the next hour, you listened as your father retired to his study and your mother to her bedroom. 

Once you were sure your parents were in for the night, you placed a candle in your window — his signal that the coast was clear. Unable to remain still, you started pacing your room. Would he show up or leave you twisting in the wind like this? 

Only a few minutes of pacing later a knock came from your window. You dashed over, unlatching it and moving the candle for Anthony to pull himself up. He did so athletically, like letting a tiger into your bedroom. When he was inside, you closed the window and he was on you in a heartbeat, hot kisses along the back of your neck while his hands slid around your waist. 

Your hand came up to grip the back of his head, your fingers lacing through his silken hair. You pressed back against him, turning your head to meet his lips with your own. He tasted like whiskey and sin. He spun you around in his grasp and tugged you close to him by your hips. 

You gasped as you felt his cock pressing into your lower tummy — he was large. For a moment you hesitated, wondering how something so large would fit inside you, but Anthony’s insistent grip on your hips turned into him grabbing handfuls of your nightgown and pulling the cool silk up, up, up. 

“You came,” you gasped breathlessly.

“You didn’t think I would? Tsk, tsk,” he joked, clicking his tongue at you. “My dear, now that I’ve had a taste, I cannot get enough.” 

He emphasized his point by kissing your lips once again, licking his tongue into your mouth. You responded with a soft moan, which only seemed to spur him on. 

Before you knew what was happening, Anthony had tossed you back onto your bed and was  crawling over you, bringing the hem of your nightgown with him. Your breath hitched as you felt his warm, large fingers tracing trails of fire up your legs, teasing your wetness through your undergarments. 

“May I taste you,” he asked, and you moaned your response which prompted him to stop his fingers only an inch from where you needed him most. Opening your eyes, you looked down at him and whined. He rose to meet your lips with his. “I need you to remain quiet, otherwise I will stop. And we don’t want that, sweet one, do we?” 

Anything. Anything he wanted as long as he kept touching you. When he saw you nod, he hooked a finger beneath your gusset and ripped it, baring your wetness to him. With eyes dark as obsidian in the light of the single candle burning, he gazed up at you with such heat as you had never known. 

He hooked one of your legs over his shoulder, then licked a long stripe into you, sending a lightning bolt up your spine. His lips curled around your clit and you shuddered. A moan threatened to slip past your lips but you clamped your hand over your mouth to stop it. The noise was caught in your throat, fluttering like a canary in a cage. 

Anthony hummed a, “good girl,” against you, making you clench around nothing. 

You moved your hands, making an effort to keep your tone low, “More, please!”

You felt him smirk against you before he redoubled his efforts, this time breaching your entrance with a thick finger. Moaning at the intrusion, Anthony took this as an invitation to add another finger, stretching you deliciously. 

You were close, so close, his fingers pumping and hitting a spot within you that you couldn’t reach, his tongue flicking against your clit. Each movement made the knot in your lower tummy tighten, threatening to snap at any moment. 

“Anthony, please,” you whined, unable to control your volume.

He slowed his fingers and removed his mouth from you. “Quiet,” he hissed, “Or do you wish for your parents to find me here?” 

Unconsciously, you clenched around his fingers. The danger of being caught added something you couldn’t name to the situation. Anthony smiled. “Mmm, does my sweet want to get caught?” He teased, and you clenched again, “I think she does. Such a wanton little strumpet, tempting me into a dark corner to kiss me, then inviting me to her bedchambers in the middle of the night, and squeezing my fingers at the thought of someone coming in…”

His words, said in his tantalizing baritone, were pushing you closer and closer to the edge. If only he would put his mouth to better use and—

As if reading your mind, his lips landed back on your clit and his fingers picked up their pace once more, again finding the spot within you that made you see stars with every pass. 

You clamped your hands over your mouth again and moaned his name, which only spurred him on. He drove into you, his tongue and lips reciting an ode against you, dedicating it to you and your pleasure. Having the entire focus of this season’s most eligible bachelor was intoxicating to say the least — and inevitably what pushed you straight into your climax. 

You writhed against him, held in place by his strong forearm as he worked you through your orgasm, the aftershocks lasting much longer than they normally did. Anthony remained between your legs and cleaned up every drop of your release before withdrawing. 

The clock in the hall chimed thrice. Anthony joined you when you reached for him, kissing you deeply and letting you taste yourself on his tongue. You let your hand drift to the front of his trousers, palming his length until he guided your wrist away. 

“As much as I wish for it, I have an early appointment and must be on my way.” 

You pouted up at him, but he placed a sweet kiss to your forehead before slipping off the end of your bed with a promise to see you again soon. 

You watched as he made his way back down the trellis. When he got to the bottom, he blew you a kiss before disappearing into the dark Mayfair night.

The early appointment Anthony had, you would find out later, was to meet with your father. He asked for your hand that afternoon. And, knowing what awaited you in your marital bed, you happily said yes.

#writing challenge #in bloom #fanfiction #bridgerton #bridgerton fic #bridgerton fanfiction #anthony bridgerton #anthony bridgerton x you #anthony bridgerton x reader #smut #bridgerton smut #anthony bridgerton smut

[sweet-as-an-angel]

Yandere Kencanons

Warnings: Kidnapping, Abduction, Major Spoilers for The Barbie Movie, Unhinged Post, Possessive Ken, Ken Just Wants to be Loved, Petnames, Ken Being Condescending, Post-Patriarchy Ken, No Pronouns Used for Reader Except 'You'.

Simply put, you’d charmed Ken. Made his non-existent heart flutter and a feeling he always associated with Barbie to overtake him. Been in the wrong place at the right time. Hence, less than a few hours after your meeting with Kenneth, you were in Barbieland. Sorry - Kendom Land.

You’d made the mistake of asking him for the time, in a rush to make it to work. And, with a twinkle in his eye and a seeming newfound sense of purpose, he proclaimed that “You respect me!”

Dazed and with little else you could say, you shrugged. “I mean…I guess…?”

And that was enough for him.

“I must go – get back to Barbieland – spread the news about patriarchy!”

You'd humoured him, more for the promise of your own safety than actual agreement, and he tipped his hat to you, billowing away in the direction of Venice Beach in a haze of his own world.

You managed to dodge him initially, untangling yourself from his vacant stare and making it to work unscathed.

On your way to lunch a few hours after, however, you were accosted again.

Of course, by none other than Ken Carson.

Who, having put all he’d learnt from his books on horses, the Wild West, and patriarchy, literally lassoed you and threw you onto his shoulder.

“We’ve gotta get you back to Barbieland – the Kens are not gonna believe this !”

On your journey back to this mysterious place, Ken explained to you how Barbies usually rule everything while the Kens are left with nothing.

“But, with you at my side, I’m sure we can make it right!”

You genuinely chalked this guy up to be insane, if at most, an escaped patient.

However, as you traversed 2D landscapes, you were more inclined to believe him. That this fabled Babrietopia did in fact exist.

And, once you get there, you become Patriarchy Ken’s personal servant.

He tells you to “Brewski Beer” him, all the while talking about how his initial conception of patriarchy had been that it was “Horses who ran the world, but it’s actually men — and horses are men extenders.”

He calls you his “bride-wife” or “groom-husband”, which, compared to the other Kens’ long-term distance low-commitment casual partners, seems oddly…endearing. Dangerously permanent.

With no idea how to get back to the Real world, you’re stuck with Ken and his entourage of fellow Kens, the Barbies either indoctrinated into their way of thinking or in hiding.

Speaking of, you are basically Ken’s property.

And he treats you as such whenever one of the other Kens tries to accost your service.

His tone is low, eyes sharp. “(Y/N) is my long-term distance low-commitment partner, not yours, Ken.”

And, to show as much, you get to sit on the floor next to Ken as he watches the Godfather with his Kentourage, talking through the whole thing, commenting on its ingenuity and nuance.

He also makes you stay nearby whenever he changes outfits - which is just him changing into another faux mink coat, pants and headband.

Despite being this new, independent, untethered Ken, he asks your opinion on things which seem largely inconsequential. Still, you sense something unstable. Insecurity, perhaps.

"What about...this coat?"

"Isn't that the same as the last one you showed me?"

Ken looks at your glass reflection in the wardrobe doors. His smile glitches, falters. He replaces it.

"Yeah, course - I was just testing you, seein' if you were paying attention."

Whenever you get a moment alone, away from the madness of the Kens, it’s short-lived. For Ken is never far behind, seeming to materialise in the doorway of whatever room of the Dreamhouse you’ve adopted as your refuge.

“What’s wrong, tiny baby?” He says, sauntering over to you, snake-like.

“I want to go home, Ken,” You tell him, voice racked with sobs, tears in your eyes.

He just gives you a narrowed, confused look, adopting an almost incredulous posture as if to say ‘Why?’

“First of all, I don’t like your tone, Doll,”

He steps towards you. You step back.

“Second of all, why in Kendom Land would you wanna leave ?" Another step forward. Another step back. "This is the dream of any patriarch’s partner to be where you are now; it should feel just like home !” Another step forward, another step ba-

Your legs hit the edge of the bed.

It doesn’t matter how hurt - or frightened - you look. Ken doesn’t listen.

“And besides, do you know how many Barbies would kill to be where you are now ? I know Weird Barbie would.” And he smiles – smirks – as if he’s triumphed you in some way only he is aware of, hands on his waist. The image of power.

Ken tends to test his boundaries when it comes to physical affection.

Seeing as he received none with Barbie, he seems to want to try his luck with you.

And yes, this does include him puckering his lips and staying stood in front of you until one of you caves.

Usually, it’s him, causing him to retract and act as if nothing happened. Which it didn’t. 

But when he really wants a kiss, he can persist for hours.

You timed him. Two hours and three minutes until you relented and pecked him.

“Wow,” he says, every time, as if it’s the first time, his eyes clouded with dreams and what you could only pen as whimsy.

He’s incredibly touch-starved. Show him an ounce of willing and he’ll be overjoyed in his own, new, macho way. Though, he does have a hard time containing a squeal whenever you touch skin.

Secretly, he's entranced by how...human you are. how different you feel and talk to the other dolls in his Kendom.

He's developed an obsession interest with your hands, holding them in his, telling you how small and soft your hands are compared to his.

He squeezes them whenever he gets the chance, commenting on how "Squishy" your fingers are, despite you having a skeleton beneath your skin - a concept that blows Ken away every time you explain it to him.

He also adores hugs. Though, he only hugs you/lets you hug him when out of view of other Kens. He needs to protect his image as the stoic leader, after all.

Loves a cuddle; goes stupid crazy for them.

He favours holding you to his chest and resting his chin atop your head. He finds your warmth a foreign comfort. While you find his lack of a heart – and a beat – a discomfort.

“S’nice and warm,” he says, eyes closed, the image of laxity. "Being here with you."

He mumbles that last part. You know not to inquire further. The Kens consider any form of genuine affection to be a weakness.

It’s in your best interest to just let him stay there and talk about whatever it is he’s fascinated himself with, lest you wish to incur a temper tantrum or the cold shoulder.

Aside from being a fan of hand-holding, he's also a partaker in wrist-holding.

If you ever do something to aggravate him, he tends to grip your wrist hard enough to make you wince, his jaw clenched, eyes narrowed.

“Something wrong, Babe?” He’ll say, tone deep with simmering wrath.

You know not to push it with Ken.

Despite how platinum and perfect he is, he does harbour a resentment which, whether caused by you or not, he seems to target you with.

Talked to a Ken for too long, or in a way he didn’t like?

He’s going to embarrass you in front of him. Make you seem undesirable to all who are not himself.

He knows he can’t make you disappear, given the fact that you’re mortal. But he knows he can make other Kens disappear; an idea that, the first time it appeared to him, frightened him, made him confront a darker half he’d repressed. But, as time went on, he’s learnt to harness it in ways you’d never have suspected from a Ken.

Not that you’d know it from the way he treats you, but he does actually care for you.

Perhaps…as much as, even more so, than he does — did — for Barbie.

He doesn’t feel like he’s tethered to any one job or image when he’s with you; his identity is not an extension of yours. But, he does try to treat yours as if it is an extension of his.

“Babe, hurry up with those beers — the game’s about to start !”

He knows you’re impervious to the effects of his brainwashing, given that you’re from the Real World, so he feels that you’re the most genuine person in Kendom Land. Hence he tends to treat you with equal harshness and care.

This also often leads to Ken asking you things about your world. Things he doesn’t yet have the answers for.

His favourite pastime is to lay his head on your thighs while you sit against the headboard of his bed, asking you any and all questions that come to mind.

“What’s your favourite colour?”, “Where does the sun go when it’s night time?”, “What did you do at your job?”

Personal ones like that last one often cause you to tense, and Ken can tell. He tends to refrain from asking you such questions now, seeing as any reminder of your life prior to this cause you to, what he has learnt to call it, cry.

Despite how tone-deaf Kenneth can be, he is actually rather intuitive. Or, rather, considerate.

When you’d told him your favourite colour, he’d painted his bedroom walls in it. Albeit a slap-dash job of it, given how interior design is not in his box description like Interior Design Ken, but he tried !

Despite his small acts of kindness being his attempts to imitate comfort, they do little to calm you. For everything he says, does, discussing a future with you in Kendom Land, changing aspects of his world to cater to your preferences, feel as if you are to take up unwilling, permanent residence here.

And, while you wait and plot for a way to escape, you exist as a perpetual puppet for Ken to mither and berate and order around.

In the real world, a doll has started appearing on shelves – a new range of ‘Misery Barbie/Ken’ dominating the toy aisles of every supermarket and toy store, your visage wrapped tightly in every box.

Tears, an outfit demeaning enough to make a grandmother faint, and the unwavering expression of the need for freedom.

Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously and it is greatly appreciated :-)

Masterpost Masterlist

Yandere Masterlist Juicy Original Content <3

#barbie #barbie movie #barbie 2023 #greta gerwig #ryan gosling #the barbie movie #and ken #kenergy #just ken #barbie and ken #ken carson #ken barbie #yandere #male yandere #yandere x reader #ken x reader #ken x you #ken x y/n #ken x male reader #ken x female reader #yandere ken x reader #yandere ken #yandere ken carson

[two-white-butterflies]

house of the dragons masterlist

Daemon Targaryen

We Raise Our Cups to Them - Daemon gifts you a necklace.

The Last Dragon - You thought that you were the last dragon. That was until you met him.

You Taste Like Wine - The story of how Daemon gained his thorns. (Tyrell!Reader) ➺ pt.2

A Little Life - Short drabble on Daemon and your son.

Wanton Desires - Daemon speaks to his wife while you give him head.

Orange and Tangerines - You and Daemon visit a brothel.

Ingenue - Daemon falls in love with a wolf. ➺ part two. (Stark!Reader) 

in the land of gods and monsters - You were the Queen, but you loved the prince. (Tyrell!Reader)

A Heaven I Can’t Reach - You were left by the Rogue Prince. You find out that you are pregnant, and he returns.

The Prince of Flea-Bottom - (Hightower!Reader)

Ghost of You - Your soul consumes Daemon with avarice.

Fuck the Rich. Fucks the Rich. - Threesome with Harwin.

Maroon -  It is the night of your wedding, and instead of making love. You both decide on playing chess.

Anti-Hero - You are the first-daughter of Viserys and Aemma, as she realizes what war is about to begin. She marries her uncle.

Midnight Rain - You used to be Daemon Targaryen’s fiancee, until he is forced to marry Laena Velaryon. You fall in love with Aemond. years later, Daemon returns.

Labyrinth - The reader is the daughter of Viserys and Alicent. Daemon almost gets the entire court high with weed brownies. The reader spreads a malicious rumor about Daemon.

Poison From the Same Vine - (Hightower!Reader)

Bigger than the Whole Sky - You become a glorified hostage for the Blacks. Your husband refuses to show his love. (Hightower!Reader)

The Smallest Coffins are the Heaviest - Daemon comforts you after a miscarriage.

Arms Length - Daemon swears to corrupt you. ➺ part two ➺ part three

Mob Wife - mafia au

White Sword - angst with smut.

The Sun Rises from the West - angst poc!reader

i’m a m*therfucking starboy - you meet the infamous prince of dragonstone. [enemies to lovers trope]

fence - he’s your dad’s best friend.

therese ➺milk matches her underwear ➺horses, cars and cowboys do  - in where, your private life becomes public. [secret relationship trope]

two white butterflies ➺ how to disappear ➺ miss american pie - daemon begins dating a singer who hates the spotlight.

i shouldn’t cry - prince daemon in love with a rich girl.

false god - you are forced to choose between family and ambition.

Fresh Out The Slammer - daemon targaryen always found himself running to you after his failed marriages.

good riddance - daemon is forced to choose between love and duty.

Viserys I and Aemond Targaryen

His Real Ambition - being a matriarch to a family was has hard, watching the love of your life marry someone else is harder.

in the land of gods and monsters - You were the Queen, but you loved the prince. (Tyrell!Reader)

Midnight Rain - You used to be Daemon Targaryen’s fiancee, until he is forced to marry Laena Velaryon. You fall in love with Aemond. years later, Daemon returns.

The Alcott - You are Rhaenyra’s oldest daughter. You meet your uncle in Winterfell, and you heart feels like jumping off your chest. 

Peaches - your stepson’s swimming instructor can’t stop staring at your ass. introducing, jealous aemond. | mafia au 

Let the light in - you fall for your father’s right hand man | mafia au 

This is me trying - a late night phone call after your team falls short on the podium. aemond comforts you, and provides you some comforting. some phone loving.

Fucking in my BMW Sedan - exactly what the title states.

I want your heart - vampire aemond

the winner takes it all - you are engaged to another. (angst)

my way, back home - aemond wants to have a big family.

A Man Who Knows - (angst)

Hands of Gold - Aemond meets an older woman. (smut)

Thranduil as Aemond's Dad - (headcanon)

Aemond Reacting to You Wanting to Break Up with him - (headcanon)

you’re losing me - after a gruesome breakup with jace - his billionaire uncle offers you a proposal that you can’t resist. [fake dating trope]

illicit affairs - it was forbidden to date a man like him. but still, you choose to fall. [cheating trope]

cats and dogs - you meet him in the animal shelter. 

emma falls in love - fake dating trope for taylor swift tickets.

Rhaenyra, Helaena and Aegon Targaryen

me and the devil - rhaenyra targaryen seduces otto hightower.

exotic flower - rhaenyra garden date. 

don’t you - you meet your ex-girlfriend in a party while wrapped around the arm of your brand new fling. a fight begins. messy sex.

Wanting Was Enough - Aegon falls for his father's caretaker.

extended masterlist

#daemon targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen #daemon targaryen x oc #house of the dragon #daemon x reader #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen #daemon targaryen fanfic

[frannyzooey]

Short Days, Long Nights: 13

Joel Miller x f!reader

Series Masterlist

Rating: E (pregnancy sex, lactation, grief)

A/N: Thank you endlessly for being so patient with me while I've been on hiatus ❤ I'm gonna stay off for another couple weeks, but I didn't want to leave you hanging for too long. I appreciate every single person that has stuck with me on this! Thank you to @the-ginger-hedge-witch and @the-scandalorian for helping me with this one - you both are the biggest brains and the most wonderful writers and I am insanely lucky to have you on my team. Enjoy! ❤

--

Jackson. 

The image of the map is burned into Joel’s mind, always present. 

More concerned with your safety than anything, he knows you should leave, but as the weeks slip by, what picks at him more is that he didn’t have an answer to your question that day. 

“Where are we gonna go?”

He should be one step ahead. He should be on top of the potential outcomes. He should have a plan, since that’s always been his role. Stepped up with one when he had Sarah, took care of Tommy before the Outbreak, and after, led their way in the QZ. After Tommy left, he still did it, even if he was going through the motions more than anything. Doing it has always been second nature, a means to survive. 

You’d let his lack of answer drop because he knew you didn’t want to leave, and of course, he knew you shouldn’t. Not right now. But still - still - he should have had a plan for something he knew was bound to happen sometime. Blinded by the light of your fierce optimism and wanting so badly to believe in it, he simply…didn’t think about it. The first time that’s happened in decades. 

You’re depending on him, and for the first time in a long time, he didn’t have an answer ready.

“Where are we gonna go?”

He doesn’t fucking know.  

Wood dust floats to settle on the floorboards around his boots, and he runs a piece of sandpaper over the beam of rough lumber that rests across his lap. The rhythmic sweeps soothe his nerves, and he tries to focus on how good it feels to do something useful with wood again. Something familiar, the dry grain sliding against his palms. A task done because he wants to, instead of as a means to get by like so much else in his life. 

This…this was for him, and for you. 

The late afternoon sun streams through the window in the shed, not quite enough to dissipate the chill. Crisp air breezes in through the open door, the sweet smell of damp leaves blending with the wood and the tips of his fingers are cold enough to stop, but he doesn’t. He has to make the most of your nap times if he wants to get this done before next week. 

Before Christmas - or the closest approximation to the date anyway, using your rudimentary calendar. Celebrating the holiday had been your idea, and like every other time when it came to something you asked for, he couldn’t say no. He said yes when you asked him to cut you a tree, nodded when you pointed to the one you wanted after a trek through the woods, helped you rip strips of red, moth bitten flannel that was worthless for clothing just to watch you tie bows to the end of the branches, as a means to decorate it. 

He was impressed by your constant resourcefulness and ingenuity when it came to the things you’d been given, and at night, when the lantern shone on it and bathed the living room in a cozy glow, it almost did feel like Christmas time. The closest thing to it that he’s felt in years, anyway. 

Placing the sandpaper on the floor and picking up a knife, his mind follows the trail marked on the map. Winding through woods and across open swathes of land, it passes right through your area and he knows it’s only a matter of time before someone else follows the first. He knows that man can’t have been the only one with a map. 

He frowns, gouging the wood a little more forcibly as he works through a knot, and he pictures the curve of your cheek, the delicate line of your neck, the bright happiness in your eyes here. That Christmas tree, in the front room. Torn between the idea of the unknown being just as unsafe as being a sitting duck at the cabin, he is restless with the need to move. The urge to keep you tucked away and protected from the world spreads beneath his skin and grows stronger every day, along with your stomach. 

It’s large enough that it strains against the shirts you’ve borrowed from him, and though you’ve started choosing large sweatshirts instead, it’s begun to push against those too. You’ve begun to sway when you stand in place, an unconscious rock as a means to relieve pressure on your lower back, and he pictures you doing the same with a baby in your arms as you stand next to the cradle that he’s been building.

When he thinks about leaving it behind only to gather dust as he drags you somewhere else, the image eats at him, reminding him too much of another room, left behind to rot. 

Another life, upended by abrupt violence. 

Guilt has always gnawed at him for so many things, and following the mental image of you holding a baby, he adds to the growing list: the idea of another child replacing the one he had. 

He fixates on all the things he couldn’t do for her on that last day but also the things time has robbed from him: the image of her face, the sound of her laugh. The books she liked, the order in which she lost her teeth, the weight of her infant body in his arms. How much of that time he spent without her while trying to provide for her, and how here, he’s got all the time in the world for this new child. His new child. 

More feelings; the knife gouging deeper. Looking forward to a holiday that can’t include her, nervously anticipating holding a baby that belongs to him, looking at you and what you’ve built together and being so fucking happy he missed his mark on that bleak day ten years ago. 

Is it betrayal to feel joy?

He’s not replacing her. He knows that. He knows, and yet the guilt never stops and so neither do his hands nor his mind, both working on fixing other problems that can be fixed. 

Jackson. 

A bed for the baby.

–

“I know it would be cold, but I think I’d rather have snow.”

You look out at the sodden garden, the neat, large borders that surround it blending in with the damp landscape. The fence that Joel built the only visual marker of where it’s at, it’s prepped for winter, buried in a dense layer of leaves and compost. You absentmindedly finger the leaf of a plant you brought inside with you, sheets of rain sliding down the window. 

“Not me,” he says. “Might look pretty, but it would be a whole lot more dangerous.”

The blurred, muted mash of colors outside all blend together, the world a canvas of dingy brown and bleak gray. Everything soggy and limp, everything saturated with wetness: at this very moment, you’d take danger over another day of this. 

Turning away from the depressing sight, you watch him sort through a pile of loose screws and nails on the coffee table. His head bent in his task, his shirt pulls tight across his shoulders as he hunches over and nudges each piece of metal with the tip of his finger, sorting them. Listening to the pleasant clink of them being dropped into glass jars, you go back to watering the plants. 

After a process that had you pouring over the gardening book for days, you left what you could in the garden in order to have a good base for the spring, but took the rest inside, to see if you could keep growing anything through the winter. 

Mismatched buckets and pots, an amalgamation of anything that would hold enough soil to plant a seed in, it was an experiment for sure. Enough was stored in the pantry to get you through the winter if you stayed lean enough about rations, and Joel had been pushing his portions upon you like there was no tomorrow, constantly assuring you that he had plenty. 

“What is this?”

Stopping to stretch his back with a groan, he’s picked up a loose, shapeless scrap of fabric off the couch. 

“Wait –” you protest, setting the watering can down. 

He frowns at it, turning it in his hands, and when you make a hasty grab for it, he keeps it out of your reach with a chuckle.

“This my present, honey?” His facial expression still puzzled, he tries to work out what it is. 

“It’s for the baby,” you explain. Coming to stand next to him, you turn it upright. “See? This is the neckhole, and the arms go here.”

“.......And the legs?”

“I’m not that good at sewing, okay?” you defend yourself with a laugh. “I thought maybe their legs could just hang out in this little…sack area.”

You make a self deprecating face, looking to him for a reaction, and he fingers the bottom of it. 

“That ain’t bad. You should see if you can tie up the bottom, you know, for a draft or somethin’.”

“I used all the spare laces on the pants. I tried to make some, but of course I don’t have elastic and I don’t know how big to make them around the waist for a button, so I thought I could just cut two holes and make like, a little belt so that it would grow with the baby and...”

Your words taper off when you realize he’s staring up at you with an amused expression and you let your shoulders drop in defeat. “This kid is gonna look like they’re from the eighteen hundreds, aren’t they.” 

“I guess you would know, with the books you’re always readin’,” he says with a grin, and the stack of historical fiction next to your side of the bed comes to mind. 

“Oh God,” you moan quietly to yourself. 

Standing with a soft grunt, he bends to press a kiss to the crown of your hair. 

“Don’t worry about it,  honey,” he murmurs. “You about ready for bed? I’m gonna go do a final lap.”

Checking the perimeter of the cabin while you bank the wood stove for the night, he eventually joins you in the bedroom, bringing in the smell of cool night air with him. Already in bed, you’re propped against the headboard with your book in hand, and you admire him as he gets ready for bed himself: the edges of his curling locks catching the light in a glowing chestnut, the warmth held in his tanned skin as he peels off his shirt, the soft give of his still trim stomach as he pads over to bed. He climbs in, adjusting the covers around the two of you. 

“What about Mae?” you ask absentmindedly, skimming the book in front of you. 

He shrugs. “Not bad.”

You make a face at the reception. “What about….Lauren?”

Stretching out on his side to face you, he rests his hand on your bump, smoothing the fabric of your sleep shirt down. A small movement nudges underneath his palm, and the corner of his mouth lifts. An intimate, quiet moment, you keep reading while he chases the constant movements with his touch, his fingers splayed wide, searching. 

“Always so squirrely at night,” he says, the words rounded with softness. 

“Tell me about it,” you sigh. 

You set your book to the side and slide down next to him as he reaches to turn off the lantern, and the two of you lay facing each other, your belly between the length of your bodies. His hand finds your stomach again, and you let yours rest over it, guiding his touch lower. Lower, until the tips of his fingers brush against the band of your underwear and also right where a set of feet (or hands) slide underneath your skin. The taut skin shifts with rapid movement, a sensation that never fails to mesmerize you, but it’s something else when he’s the one who gets to see it. Watching him experiencing it is your favorite. 

“What about Margaret? I’ve always liked that name.”

He makes a face, telling you all you need to know. “What makes you so sure it’s gonna be a girl?” 

You shrug, lifting the hem of your shirt so you can feel his skin on yours, and his hand slides right back into place. 

“Have you thought of any names?” you ask quietly.

“I, uh…I was sorta thinkin’ about June.” His dark eyes flit up to yours. “After June Carter Cash. Or Pearl, after –”

“You wanna name my baby after Pearl Jam?” your eyebrows raise. You’ve heard him humming “Future Days” while working outside, you know the band is a favorite of his. 

He grins at your reaction. “That a no?”

“I should have guessed it would be music related,” you tease with a smile, scooting closer. “I like June. It’s pretty.”

The gentle exploration of his touch soothes you, and you close your eyes to savor it. 

“What about boy names?” you ask. “I can’t really think of any. It’s actually what makes me think it’s a girl, like she’s trying to tell me something.”

“I haven’t thought of too many either. Thomas, for my brother, maybe?”

“That’s a good one.” You yawn, and sleep softly rounds the edges of your words. “Are you ready for next week?”

The preparation of his gift has your hands aching and grasping one with the other, you rub the tender knuckles, working some of the soreness out. Wordlessly, he reaches for your hand and takes it into his own, kneading the joints. 

“I think so. S’kinda nice, havin’ a Christmas.” His touch lingers on the tips of your fingers, warming them. “Too cold in here? I can put another log on if you want.”

“No, it’s just…they ache. They're so swollen they get stiff sometimes. I don’t think the damp is helping.”

You hear it now, peppering the window in the dark. The steady drum of rain on the window, the sound makes the room all the more inviting: warm and safe, his body heat radiating underneath the quilt. He keeps rubbing your fingers, his own larger hands cradling your smaller one, and akin to someone rubbing your back to sleep, the touch lulls you, your eyes fluttering shut. 

“This good?” His mouth brushes lightly against your knuckles, his lips pressing against your fingers before he breathes warm air on them. 

“Mmmm, yea.” Silent for a moment, you speak. “Joel?”

He hums in acknowledgement of his name, and you voice the nightly request you started asking him weeks ago. 

“Tell me what you know.”

A prompt he’s seemingly ready for, he shifts to get comfortable, letting out a sigh. The motion similar to someone getting ready to tell a bedtime story, your reaction to curl tight next to him is the same. 

The first time you asked him this, he barely remembered anything. Other memories taking their place, the finer details of pregnancy and birth were buried deep, most of them forgotten. He remembered the doctor's visits but not the frequency. The general concept of birth but not the stages. The pain, but as someone who didn’t go through it, he couldn’t tell you what labor actually felt like. 

All guesses and long ago recollections, you took them because they were better than nothing. Tonight, he tells you about the night feedings. 

“Babies, they uh…” he begins in his gravely, lowered voice, trying to speak softly in the darkness. “You know they eat every couple of hours or so for a while after they’re born. Weeks of it.”

You nod against his shoulder, listening to his deep drawl. 

“I don’t remember much because when you don’t get a lot of sleep it all tends to blur together, y’know? But I do remember some of them. Peaceful, sometimes. Everything is so quiet and still, and there ain’t nothin’ but you and them, sittin’ together.”

He stops, and you reach up to brush your fingers along the edge of his jaw, just enough to let him know you’re listening. He sighs, a heavy, contemplative thing. 

“They are so small in your hands. So small it’s scary. I remember bein’ so careful, always feelin’ like I was gonna accidentally hurt her, or –” his breath hitches, and he swallows hard. He’s silent for a moment, and your breath slows and evens out. “Anyway, they don’t let you get any sleep, not for a few months, but sometimes….sometimes, you don’t mind.”

Your body loose and relaxed next to his, you’re on the edge of sleep when the words tumble softly out of your mouth. 

“Joel?”

“Yea?” 

“I’m scared.” The confession is whispered into his bare skin, and you breathe in his comforting, familiar smell, the steady drum of his heart beating underneath your cheek. His hand is a weighty drag down the line of your spine, the feeling of it steadying you. 

The wind blows outside, rain pelting the glass. 

“I know, honey,” he answers. “Me too.”

–

Long after you’ve fallen asleep, he stays awake, his mind lost in a memory. 

Her tiny body rigid with deceiving strength, he struggles to force her arm into a small sleeve. His hand is huge compared to her fragile arm, her skin downy soft under his palm, and moonlight shines through the window in her bedroom just enough to light the features of her scrunched, upset face. A small wail pierces the darkness, and succeeding in dressing her, he lifts her up. 

One hand cupping her entire bottom with the other covering her back, he makes low shushing sounds with his mouth to soothe her, inhaling the milky sweet smell that clings to her skin. 

“Hey baby girl, shhh. I got you. I got you.”

Her tiny face burrows into his chest, her body squirming until she gets comfortable, and he keeps soothing with low hums, his hand rubbing a slow circle over her purple pajamas as she settles. 

Moving slowly so as not to disturb her, he sits down in the rocking chair and continues to hold her; the carpet plush under his bare foot that gently pushes off the floor. His sleep blurred eyes focus on the small turn of a glass butterfly that hangs from her window, the rounded curves catching the moonlight as she sleeps on his chest. 

He lets the unearthed, vivid memory wash over him as his chest constricts, the pain suffocating. Finding himself in this position more and more since you started asking him about what he remembers, he closes his eyes and succumbs to the pain: worth it, to see her face again. To remember things he’d thought he’d forgotten. 

The edges of the memory blur and crumble, his mind losing its focus on that purple room and on the cusp of sleep, he tries to grasp and hold on tight to the details until they fade away. 

–

“Keep your eyes closed, okay? Wasn’t much to wrap with.” 

Anticipation thrums through you, your features lax with fondness as you wait patiently on the living room floor with your eyes closed. A fire crackles in the wood stove next to you, shadows pooled in the corners of the living room where the light doesn’t reach, and you scoot a little closer to absorb more heat. 

Never one to linger in bed, he’s been up since dawn, and when you awoke alone, there was a  weighted, peaceful stillness in the air—a significance to the day that was at best, a guess. Still, you felt it all the same: through drinking tea with him on the back porch this morning, through reading on the couch this afternoon, through helping him prep the small feast you allowed yourselves for dinner. 

You hear and feel a shift in the air when he comes to sit in front of you, setting your present at your feet. 

“Okay, you can open ‘em.”

Laughter bubbles bright and loud when you see what it is.

“Joel Miller, you shouldn’t have.” Picking up the bottle of vinegar, you tilt it in the light to see how much is left: about half, which is a find indeed. “How long have you been hiding this?”

He shrugs, looking pleased with your reaction. “Not too long. I found it when I went to check out that last cabin. I know it’s not a lot, but I thought it would be useful.”

Vinegar means pickling, means cleaning, means acid for the soil of your plants that you moved inside for the winter, and even though the label is half peeled off and the contents might not be as potent as they once were, you have never been so happy to see a bottle of the stuff in your life. 

“Thank you,” you say softly, leaning forward as much as you can, presenting your lips for a kiss. He gives you one, and you pull back, your mouth twisted in an apologetic pout. “This is a way better gift than what I got you.”

“That’s not true,” he argues. “You fixed my favorite jacket. Feels brand new.”

After snagging it on a tree branch while hunting, he had been so disappointed when he inspected the size of the rip when he came home. Handing it to you, he had declared it no good anymore and told you to use it for something else, but knowing it was his favorite, you’d been mending it in secret while he went out for the day. Textiles being a scarcity aside, that jacket was also your favorite: it’s the one he’s been wearing since you first started out; the sight of it comforting to you. 

“I actually got you somethin’ else, but you’ll have to close your eyes again.”

You automatically squeeze your eyes shut, your hands playfully grabbing the air as you squirm on the floor, and the sound of his low chuckle makes you smile wider. Hearing the front door open and then close, you frown when the object he places at your feet sounds heavy.

“Okay, open em’ up.”

It’s immediate, the way your expression drops from delight into something more reverential. Your breath frozen in your lungs, you reach out and touch the smooth edges of the cradle. Tracing the perfectly fit together corners, you take in how small it is – so small - but perfect. 

Your eyes lift to meet his, tears blurring your vision. “Did you make this?”

“Yea,” he replies softly. “I kept in the shed, workin’ on it when you were napping. I knew we needed somewhere to put her, so I thought –”

“Her?” Your fingers brushing along the neat edges, you look up at him with a small, watery smile, and he matches it with a soft one of his own. 

“Sure, why not. You’ve convinced me.” Affection is open and obvious on his face, the lines that normally crease his forehead softened as he watches you look it over. 

“This is…so much, Joel. It’s beautiful. I don’t even know how…I was thinking we’d have to put her in a dresser drawer or something, and I –” Overwhelmed with his thoughtfulness, you’re at a loss for words. “Thank you,” you eventually settle on, hoping the sincereness in your words expresses everything you feel. 

��You look so surprised,” he says, teasing laced in his tone. “Did you really think I would get you just a half bottle of vinegar for Christmas?” 

“I don’t know!” you laugh, a hitch in your breathing as you settle your emotions. “We can’t exactly go Christmas shopping, so I figured you did the best you could.”

He reaches to swipe a tear from the round of your cheek, and you chase the heat of his palm, leaning into it. “It’s been so long since I gave anyone a Christmas present. Glad I’m not totally out of practice.”

Gently sliding the cradle out of the way, you rise to your knees to give him a kiss. 

“I love it.”

You kiss him again, his lips tinted red from the wine at dinner, and the bitterness sweeps through your mouth when he gifts you a slow slide of his tongue. The tentative heat held in his response passes to you, and swallowing his hunger, it spreads through your limbs to pool between your legs. Pressing forward, your hand reaches out for his shirt, and you deepen the kiss.

You hope it conveys everything you want to put into words but can’t: appreciation, love, gratitude. Keeping your mouth on his, you slip your hand around the back of his neck and threading your fingers up through his locks, you hold him in place, his hand grasping your elbow to steady you as a soft sound rumbles from his throat. 

“I guess you really liked it.”

You just nod, pulling him in for another kiss, his familiar taste and scent filling your senses as he presses himself closer, and when you let out the catch of a moan in your throat, he pulls back just far enough for you to see hooded want in his eyes.

“We done with the gift exchange?” He presses a kiss to your your throat, his lips warm and delicate over the skin he finds and you nod, letting him taste.

“Here,” he asks, his mouth moving just below your ear, “or in the bedroom?”

“Here,” you breathe, cupping his whiskered cheeks to pull his mouth back to yours. Your hand slips between his thighs, finding him half hard under his jeans, and groaning into your mouth, he shifts on the floor to kneel in front of you. Your fingers work the buttons of his flannel open, pushing it from his shoulders at the same time he grabs the hem of your shirt to work it over your head and off. Undoing your bra, you fling it onto the floor as his hand reaches back to tug his t-shirt off in a smooth, overhand motion, and your hands drop to his belt buckle, tugging it open.  

The back of your knuckles swipe through the line of coarse hair that leads under the waistband of his jeans, a slight shakiness to your movements betraying the need you feel, and it’s something he sees and rewards with another consuming kiss.

The rest of your clothes tugged off in a rush, he rests his back against the couch and guides you onto his lap, the soft inside of your thighs straddling the outside of his firmer ones. One of the only comfortable positions you’ve got left, it’s been your favorite because it gives him unfettered access to your breasts and when he palms them in appreciation, anticipation sends a warm thrill up your spine. 

Using both his hands, he cups the sides of your jaw to draw you in, holding you in place while he opens your mouth with his, his tongue sliding smoothly against yours. His fingertips dig into the nape of your neck, one hand dropping to palm the plush weight of your breast, and you kiss him back even harder while he delicately teases your nipple with his thumb. 

The calloused pad skims over the top of it, the contrast between the tender touch and the fierceness of his kisses making your head swim with arousal, and pulling back, he takes in your kiss-swollen mouth only for a moment before bending his attention to your breast. 

Using the cradle of his hold, he pushes it up to draw the peak of it into his mouth, and your head tips back, a broken cry coming from your throat. 

“Please. Please.”

He would give you anything – anything – you ask for, and this is no different. He laves his tongue over the peaked bud, dragging firm pressure over it as he draws it into his mouth, and when you dig your fingers into his hair and pull with a moan of pleasure, his hand cups the underside of your breast to push more in. Frenzied, rough, desperate for more, a deep groan slides out of his throat at the same moment you feel a strange, tingling sensation on your nipple. 

Surprise shows in his brown eyes when they flick up to yours, and pulling back, you both stop. 

“Was that –” you ask, and he looks down at your breast, his thumb dragging delicately along the peak. 

“Yea, I think it was,” he answers, slightly mesmerized. 

A drop of milky liquid hangs from the tip of your breast, and he wipes it away, smearing it on your soft skin. Another one takes its place, and his eyes flicker with interest. 

“Holy shit.” 

The words slip out faster than you can stop them, and the corresponding lift of his eyebrows makes you laugh, his own deeper chuckle joining your lighter one. He pulls you in for a kiss right as you’re leaning down for one, and you find there was no hunger lost while the moment was broken; instead it comes back even stronger as you wrap your arms around his shoulders and he holds onto your back with a splayed grip so fierce it makes you squirm. 

Unsure of when you started grinding your hips against his, you work them slightly faster. Spread and wet on his lap, you’re so achingly empty right over where you can feel the heft of him pressing between your bodies, and fire lights under your skin with how much you want him to just take. 

He’s been so careful with you, so considerate in his handling of your body these last few weeks. Always taking care of every need that you have, he’s done so with no less attentiveness, but you can tell that he’s been holding back—a telling rigidness to his muscles when he moves above you, a tightness to his strokes every time he fucks you as if he’s keeping his body  in check to make sure he doesn’t lose himself. Missing the sharp edges to his love, you kiss him harder, and he groans as if in pain, his tongue sliding deep into your mouth. His beard rubs your chin raw, the pressure of his response forcing your body to tip back slightly in his hold.

“Fuck me,” you whine, the words breathless against his lips, and he groans again, breaking your kiss. 

“Christ, honey, turn around.”

Desperate to follow anything he tells you to do, you grip his shoulder to steady yourself as you turn yourself around, your back to his front. His mouth is an immediate brush against the nape of your neck, a heady sensation that has you melting back into him, and his hands travel up your sides to cup your breasts, pulling at the peaks. 

Your ass grinds in his lap, the thick, stiff line of his cock trapped between your bodies, and when you arch your back and lean forward in a silent invitation, he reaches down to line himself up. Easing yourself back down, the stretch is delicious but so tight it’s almost unbearable. 

“Goddamn,” he groans over your breathless whine. 

Wrapping your smaller hands around his thick wrists for purchase, you pull at your bottom lip with your teeth as you sink all the way down to the base, and when he’s fully seated inside you, he bands his arms just under your breasts in a tight hold, keeping you in place. You can feel how hard he’s breathing between your shoulder blades, his beard rubbing against your skin, and squirming in his lap with a soft sound, you start to roll your hips. 

He’s so deep this way, so much deeper than he’s been in weeks, and taking a moment to get used to it with a couple of slick strokes down, you chase the thick, filling stretch of his cock. Leaning forward, you brace your hands on his knees, and the deep groan you hear from behind you makes you wetter; your body physically reacting to his wordless praise. 

“You feel so fucking good, honey. So good.”

His hands traverse your back—one splayed wide to drag heavily down your spine, the other curled around your hip to guide your movements–and when you bend forward as much as your stomach allows, his hand drops to your ass, spreading you from behind. 

“I wish you could see how wet my cock is. I want you to see how you’re soakin’ it.”

“I can feel it,” you moan, your hips working faster. 

You can: every down stroke is smooth and audible, the tight walls of your cunt stretching around him to take him perfect and fluid every single time, and when you start to pull him deeper, he sits forward with a cinch, pulling you back towards his body. The solid, warm wall of his chest cages you in, his arm looping around your hip so his hand can reach your clit, and when he finds it, everything spreads warm and thick from your center outwards, your head tipping back to rest against his shoulder. 

“There’s my girl,” he smiles when your body drapes pliant and loose against his, your hips chasing the pressure of his fingers. Forward into his touch and backwards onto his cock, you can hear him breathing heavy and low into your ear and your hands find his forearms to hold on tight, your nails digging into the thick muscles as you work yourself faster. 

He rubs your clit in quicker, more precise circles, just right with the firm slip of two calloused fingers, and your thighs tighten in their tremble, your release a bright, shining edge that beckons. 

When it happens, it breaks you – clamping tight around him as you’re suspended in a state of strained rapture, his hand comes up to cradle the base of your throat in a possessive hold while his other hand keeps working, and a second wave takes you by surprise, washing over your skin as you cry out. You can feel the wetness that soaks his fingers when he reaches down to feel where you’re stretched around him, letting out a groan against your skin. 

His hand smears damply across your hip as he lifts you from his lap, slipping out as he guides you on to your hands and knees, and loose and pliant, you let him position you anyway he wants. 

“Just a little more, honey. Just a little longer,” he coaxes. 

Resting your cheek on the floor, you arch your back to put yourself on display for him as you catch your breath, but it’s stolen just as quickly when he gives you a rough, open mouthed kiss to your cunt. He eats you like a man starved, the wet muscle of his tongue flattening against you as he keeps you open with his hands splayed on your ass, and a deep rumbled groan is felt against the inside of your thighs when you reach back to tug on his hair. 

His tongue dips deep inside you for a taste, and just when he pulls back, he goes in for more, like he’s changed his mind because he can’t get enough. Harder this time, more forceful, the action pushing your hips forward, and when you cry out, he’s dragging himself back, pulling away to position himself. 

The heat of his body radiates along the back of your thighs, the thick tip of his cock notched against the slick dip of your entrance only for the barest of moments before he pushes himself in with a stroke of his hips, and you hear a hiss behind you, one you almost don’t catch over the low moan that spills out of your mouth.

“You’re so fucking tight,” he groans, his hips fitting neatly along your ass. He slides out and then back in, giving you time to adjust to his size. “I want – Christ – I want…can you take it harder for me?”

“Yes. God yes. Please.”

He answers with a rougher slide in, an audible muted pound of his hips against your skin. “You tell me if it’s too much, honey, okay?”

After turning your head and nodding so he can see you, he gives you another rough, smooth stroke in and then another one, each one filling you until the air feels like it’s being pushed from your lungs, and then he picks up his pace, letting out a low, heavy breath for every thrust. It sounds obscene: his rumbled, low groans and grunts, but you can barely focus on it for how sensitive you are to his thickness. Everything tighter, the fit is a snug, slick slide in every time, and you squeeze around him, earning you another hiss of appreciation. 

“This pussy is gonna kill me,” he groans and then holds nothing back: his hips snapping against you with his hand resting flat on your tailbone, every jolt rocking your body forward. 

Exactly what you asked for and what you’ve been missing, you let him know. 

“It feels…it feels so good. God I’ve missed this.”

“Yea?” The word is a breathless growl, and you clench down on him again. “What about this? Did you miss this too?”

His hands wrapping around the inside of your elbows, he tugs you back and up until your back is arched with your ass in his lap and then he’s pounding into you. 

“Joel!” 

Faster and harder, his hips work ceaselessly behind you for a dozen strokes and when he comes, his fingers dig tight into your skin, your arms aching as he holds you in place to take every last drop. Panting behind you, his strokes slow into a rhythmic grind and sliding out, he eases you gently down onto the floor where you slump, your cheek resting on the fold of your arms.

Dazed and loose, with a content smile on your lips, you lay down on your side and he joins you, dropping to the floor. His arm slung over his eyes, you watch his pulse pound in his neck as he tries to catch his breath. 

“So…was that also a Christmas present, or….?” you tease, the question coming out slow and saturated with contentment, and he laughs, a breathless thing that’s carefree and deep. 

“Sure,” he answers, rolling onto his side. “Merry Christmas.”

The light of the flames dancing across your bare body, shadows slide over his tanned skin and the bluntness of his reply makes you laugh. 

The two of you look at each other for a moment, his hand coming up to brush away an errant lock of hair from your temple. His hand glides down the length of your torso, coming to rest on the swell of your stomach and leaning in, his mouth meets yours.  

Still smiling, you cup his cheek and with a slick slide leaking between your thighs, pull him closer to deepen the kiss.

#joel miller #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller/you #joel miller/reader #pedro pascal character fanfiction

[gracesimp]

I know

14th doctor x reader

Request/Summary: With the Not-Things, there's a lot of potential for angst and hurt/comfort, etc. Totally fine if you don't want to write this, but I keep imagining a reader companion who has been secretly pining for the doctor and the Not-Thing reveals their love for the Doctor while trying to prove itself and yeah

Wild Blue Yonder Spoilers.

"You don't fool me," The Doctor says bluntly, looking at Y/n with his arms crossed and a grimace on his face. "You're not them, and I'd strongly suggest you stop pretending to be so before this ends badly." He threatens, voice dropped low into an hair-raising whisper.

"But I am! I'm me." They try quickly, tenuous pout on their lips and eyes full of tears. They place a hand to their heart, expression morphed into one of desperation. "Please, I swear! You have to believe me. After everything we've been through, you've got to know that it's me."

Scoffing and standing tall, eyes darkening dangerously, The Doctor shakes his head immediately. "Don't." He spits, taking a step forwards, so brutally it causes Y/n to step back in fear. "Don't you dare."

With eyes ingenuous and lips parted to allow shallow breaths to escape, Y/n responded quietly. "If I'm not me, then how would I know everything I do? How would I remember standing on the edge of civilisations, watching planets burn and being able to do nothing to help. Evil monsters - the ones that gave me this scar, remember?" They struggled, running a trembling finger down the little scar on their neck.

His face remains unimpressed. Blank. Angry.

"And how would I know how in love with you I am?" They whisper, swallowing thickly. "That thing may be able to fake being me, but they would never be able to fake a feeling as strong as that. Never."

It's silent for a moment, but then The Doctor's already dark manner growed into an appearance edging on detrimental. Without fear, he marched towards them, grabbing them harshly and restricting their movement.

A shriek left their lips, panting as they fought to escape his tightening arms. But then, their body fell limp, and they turned their head to look up at the doctor, smirk rising on the corner of their lips. "Got me." They taunt viciously then hissed as they kicked a way out of his grip.

/

Travelling with the Doctor, Y/n had grown accustomed to fear. The way blood would pump faster, the heart would bang harshly against the chest. It felt like it was going to burst out.

A few feet in front, the Doctor and Donna found sanctuary in the tardis. Unfortunately, Y/n was a tad slower. The two of them, Y/n and not!Y/n, exchanged a look before rushing into a full blown sprint.

"it's me!" Not!Y/n yelled as they ran. Arm reaching out, harsh breaths leaving their lips. "I'm me!"

"No, they're not! I'm me!" They corrected before suddenly halting in their sprint, hitting the other's back as they face the Doctor in the tardis.

But the Doctor's eyes never once glanced at the clone. Always, they remained on Y/n.

"I-I don't know how to prove it.." Y/n trailed off quietly before groaning, running a hand down their face. "Oh, gosh! Why can't I think of how to prove I'm me?"

"You don't have to." He answered simply, grabbing their hand and tugging them into the tardis, the doors immediately snapping shut with a bang.

"No!" Not!Y/n screeched as the door closed. They hissed and growled viciously, snarling at the fading spaceship. In a futile attempt to get the ship to stay in place, their nails clawed pathetically at the wooden box, blue chipping off and dirtying under their fingernails. "No!"

/

"That was scary." Y/n began, walking into the console room, freshly showered and in pyjamas, hair damp and eyes tired from the day's events. This captured the Doctor's attention and he immediately looks up from fiddling with buttons and such, a tiny smile instantly forming on his red tinted lips. His cheeks turn a sweet shade of pink at the sight of Y/n in one of his old tops. "I mean, I was starting to doubt that I was even the real me. How can you be so sure that you know I am?"

"I know," He assures quickly, not missing a beat. "and I will always know."

Blinking swiftly and nibbling their lip, Y/n looks down to avoid his eyes as their own cheeks colour, heart beating promptly. "Oh."

"You know," He begins, deserting the button he had been messing around with. "the other you said something interesting."

"Oh? Really? And what was that?" Y/n mumbles softly, rubbing their sleepy eyes and letting out a yawn. Upon seeing this, the Doctor's eyes soften and he grins, walking over to them and cupping their cheeks in his hands.

"Doesn't matter." He responds in a gentle voice, leaning down to press his lips delicately to their forehead. "Go get some sleep, angel. We can talk tomorrow."

As always, not proofread cos I'm lazy 🙈

#doctor who #doctor who fanfiction #nuwho #david tennant #doctor who x reader #10th doctor #tenth doctor #10th doctor x reader #doctor who x y/n #doctor who x you #10th doctor x you #ten x reader #fourteenth doctor #fourteenth doctor x reader #14th doctor #14th doctor x reader #14th doctor x you #whovian

[diejager]

I can imagine human reader getting tierd of being the only one in the 141 without like hybrid powers and just pulls a full brainstorm and makes like spider man stuff. like we just make some web shooters or something and the boys when we show them are just O°O

Webs

Dumbfounded, that’s the first thing they felt. To combat your mundaneness, your powerlessness in the face of a world full of hybrids and monsters born with powers and using them. You were human in every sense, you were powerless, mortal and weak, but you were resilient, mind brewing with theories and hypothesis for a way to become better —greater so that you could match the other men in the Task Force.

It took you weeks of building and searching for help, having Laswell connect you to the brightest minds in both worlds : human and monsters, to have your little contraption built. It was all hard work and sleepless nights, cooperation between both sides until you had your little shooter in your hand. It would be the tech that would help you hold your own in times of need and when you separated, stranded on your own.

It was a surprise, certainly, to the hybrids you worked with, watching you swing objects and shrapnel left and right when they’re thrown at you. You used your newly-acquired gadget to make the area safer before you started on whatever wound Soap or König had, touching up any injuries you already patched up hurriedly, or wanting to clear the area.

Price had commented on it, praising your ingenuity to further your reach, being able to do more than asked of you. Ghost, Gaz and König were often the ones to watch you practice, the exercise you added to your drills to master your ability to swing from wall to wall. Gaz would fly over your head, ready to fly down and pick you up if you slipped or if the web wasn’t shot far enough. If Gaz couldn’t reach you in time, Ghost and König were the failsafe, catching you in their arms.

Horangi’s curious, his swaying tail and careful steps matching Soap’s excited wagging and skip when they asked you questions, a feline’s curiosity and a canine’s eagerness. You told them all you knew, the less technical parts of the construction without confusing them or yourself. You explained how it worked, how to change the fibre and how to use it.

Rudy was the only one tempted to try it out, letting you watch him fumble and stumble around with it while he hung in the air, feet kicking the cement wall. Alejandro would laugh, his smooth chuckle making both yours and Rudy’s cheeks warm, him from embarrassment and you from something warm in your abdomen.

Perhaps you’d ask a few bigger copies just to see how well the rest of the TF fared with your gadget, just for the fun of it, to laugh and look back at this memory with joy and laughter.

Tag list: @craxy-person @crowbird @dead-cipher @iwannabealocalcryptid @iizx7y @mxtokko @yeetusspagheetus @capricorn-anon @perfectus-in-morte @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @tallmanlover @distracteddragoness @vxnilla-hxrddrugs @konigsblog @havoc973 @angelcakes-22 @cassiecasluciluce @ramadiiiisme @ramblingsofachaoticthinker

#x reader #cod mw2 #ghost mw2 #cod mw2 x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #konig x reader #konig mw2 #könig x reader #könig mw2 #john soap mactavish #soap x reader #monster 141 au #gaz x reader #kyle gaz garrick #captain john price #john price x reader #alejandro vargas x reader #alejandro vargas #rodolfo rudy parra #rudy x reader #kim horangi hong jin #horangi x reader

[joshym]

Muse

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x f!Reader

Summary: Your struggling artist is desperate for some inspiration.

Word Count: 3.4k+

Warnings: smut (18+ ONLY), unprotected p in v, oral (f! receiving), a smidge of sir kink, some spanking, a lot of fluff because i can't help myself, Jake draws a naked portrait of you (let me know if i've missed anything)

a/n: special thanks to this lovely anon for this brilliant idea. this was way too much fun to write.

this was inspired heavily by that scene from the Titanic. (you know the one.)

as always, thank you to my favorite editor/motivator, @jakeyt.

i hope you enjoy. ♡

“I want you to draw me wearing this.” You reach into the lapel of the robe, retrieving his coin that now hangs from your neck. “Only this.”

.⚘🀢⚘.⚘🀢⚘.⚘🀢⚘.

His frustration is palpable, evident in the nearly incessant huffing emanating from behind the closed door of his studio.

It's moments like these that leave you feeling utterly helpless. There’s nothing you can do, no inspiration you can provide that will pull him from his artist’s block.  

He's been holed up in there for hours, since the early dawn, lost in the depths of his imagination, sketching away. You know better than to intrude; he's never been keen on sharing his work until it's finished.

In fact, he's never once allowed you a glimpse into his creative process. "It's the strange doodlings of a mind overrun with ideas. It's not to be seen until it's in its final form," he's reminded you countless times when your curiosity gets the better of you.

Still yet, you're consumed by the desire to witness his beautiful mind in action, crafting masterpieces in real-time, each stroke flowing from his soul through his tireless hand on his Somerset velvet sheets.

But, like any artist, he’s his own worst critic. He’s never truly satisfied with anything he creates, though you are left utterly speechless after each piece he finishes. His mind is a beautifully profound chasm of endless wonder, manifested through his artistry.

You hate when he has these moments of doubt, these instances when he questions whether he’s truly capable of such greatness. 

And you especially despise days like today, when he spends the better part of it feeling as though he has a mental brick wall in the way of his ingenuity, hindering his hand from bringing to life what his mind so desperately longs to conceive. 

Commissioned pieces, like his project today, always hold the most weight for him— from the need to earn a living, to his persistent worry that his art might not meet the expectations of the client. 

It’s not that he doesn’t love doing them, or that he’ll ever stop taking them; quite the contrary, they’re his favorite pieces to work on. They provide him with an added pressure that elicits some of his best work. 

But, reaching that point can be rather strenuous for him. It can at times take days, weeks before he discovers the creative impulsion he needs. 

And right now, he’s in that very rut, awaiting the surge of inspiration that will reignite his dulled spirit.

There truly is nothing you can do when he’s lost like this, and any effort you’ve attempted in the past has always proved useless. 

The one thing you can do, however, is prepare him some dinner.

He’s hardly left his studio today, and you know he’s not eaten much, if anything at all. Perhaps a morsel of sustenance will ignite the dormant embers of his mind. 

.⚘🀢⚘.⚘🀢⚘.⚘🀢⚘.

After a quiet tap to the door, he invites you in with a serene voice. 

He looks tired, but lovely as ever. The golden hour has officially set in the sky, and the opened curtains on the windows have allowed for a warm hue to encompass his studio, enveloping him in its delicate lume.

“That smells absolutely divine,” he remarks as you enter his studio, his plate and yours delicately balanced in your hands. 

“I figured a little homemade pasta would do you some good,” you tell him while you pad across the floor to his work station.

With a sly disposition and a playful glint in your eye, you aim to steal a glance of his day-long project, but alas, you’ve been caught. Your sweet Jake misses nothing.

"Not yet, my love," he murmurs, flipping the page over as he takes your hand, planting a tender kiss over your knuckles. "You know the rules."

“I know, I know.” Your response holds a bit of remorse. You know better, but can’t begin to help the relentless desire to see his mind at work. 

Setting his dinner on the desk he’s working from, you move yourself across the small office to the green chaise lounge that sits across from him, silently seeking his permission with your gentle glances. The smile in his eyes tells you that he’s more than happy to be graced with your company for the time being. 

After taking a bite of the spinach tortellini you prepared, he unbuttons his white striped shirt, removing it from his shoulders and stretching his arms high above his head as though he’s ridding himself of the weight of his frustrations.

You can’t help your glare, watching him do something so normal yet so intriguing all at once. 

His skin is velvety smooth, his chest rising and falling with every breath he takes, his chestnut wavy locks sitting atop his broad shoulders. You’re in awe each time you look at him; the sheer magnitude of his beauty never fails to steal your breath away.

And his necklace, his most cherished piece of jewelry that he wears each and every day. The precious coin, a relic salvaged from a centuries-old shipwreck that hangs against his chest.

The way it sits on his bare skin is nothing short of elating, sexy. It’s a wonderful addition to his already captivating aura. 

He’s flawless. Everything about him.

Once he catches your gaze, he responds with a sly wink, eliciting a blush that paints your cheeks a bright shade of pink.

Then, a thought begins to swirl around your mind for a brief moment. One that you’re shocked you’ve not conjured until now. 

The vision of the pendant against his bare skin sets your own imagination alight. 

“I’ve got an idea,” you propose, your voice soft and sultry, trying to pique his interest even just a little, something that may help the rusted wheels of his mind turn at full capacity once again.

While his focus remains on his work, his right eyebrow arches ever so slightly, and you catch the hint of a grin daring to curl in the corners of his mouth.

“And what might that be, my dear?” he asks with an unknowing, devilish smirk. 

As you get up, he hastily flips the page back over to hide his work from you once again.

“Don’t worry,” you say as you move behind him, placing your hands on his bare shoulders. “I won’t peek.”

You glide your fingers along his skin, feeling the subtle rise of each goosebump in the wake of your gentle touch.

He hums inquisitively as you delicately take hold of the clasp of his necklace in between your index and thumb, undoing it in one fluid motion before slowly slipping it from around his neck. 

“Be right back,” you say as you head towards the door. “Don’t move.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he responds, a myriad of questions splayed across his features.

With light steps, you make your way down the wooden floors of the hall towards your shared bedroom. Hanging on the back of the door is your sapphire hued satin robe, adorned with a delicate lace detailing along the hem—the one Jake has always fawned over. 

The satin drapes coolly against your skin as you slip it on, wearing nothing underneath, save for the weight of Jake’s necklace resting against your chest that you hide beneath the fabric. 

You run your fingers through your hair, adding a subtle tousled look, before applying a light blush to your lips and cheeks to impart a bit of natural color to your complexion.

And with that, you're poised and ready.

.⚘🀢⚘.⚘🀢⚘.⚘🀢⚘.

As you turn the corner to face his studio, you see a very weary version of your Jake. His head sits in the palms of his hands, his leg bounces up and down at a rapid rate—a clear sign of the mental battle he’s waging. 

This is as good a time as any for your little idea, and you’re hoping that it’ll be the very thing he needs to find some much needed initiative to keep going. 

“Hi, baby,” you venture, leaning your body alluringly against the frame of the door. 

As he looks up, a familiar twinkle dances in his eyes—a sight you've longed for all day long. It's a glimmer that tells you he's rather fond of the vision before him.

“And what exactly is your idea?” he inquires softly, slowly standing from his chair. But you stop him, motioning for him to stay just where he is as you saunter towards the chaise you were seated on just moments ago. 

“My idea,” you begin, making a very slow, deliberate attempt to untie the sash holding your robe together at the waist. “...is for you to draw me.” 

As if your thought has affected him physically, his posture immediately straightens, and his once tired eyes hold a renewed sense of life as they watch you intently. 

“I want you to draw me wearing this.” You reach into the lapel of the robe, retrieving his coin that now hangs from your neck. “Only this.” 

Your robe suddenly falls to the floor, revealing your fully nude figure that was hidden beneath. 

“Oh…” he utters, his tongue wetting his lower lip before tucking it between his teeth. “You can’t do this to me, baby. I can’t look at you like this an–”

“Consider it a commission,” you interrupt, tracing your fingers lightly up and down the skin of your torso. “And when you’re finished, if it’s to my liking, you’ll receive a full payment.”

With a raised eyebrow, his gaze sweeps up and down your form, while his index finger lightly grazes his chin.

“You’re quickly becoming my favorite client,” he quips, wiping a stray bead of sweat away from his forehead, tousling the front of his hair in the process. “Consider it done, ma’am,” he continues with a confirming nod of his head. 

You lay yourself down on the forest green velvet cushions, positioning yourself sensually across the chaise. Your body is turned slightly to the side, your leg gracefully crossed over the other, an elegant display of your curved silhouette. 

The warm glow that is so beautifully cast upon Jake, is now cast upon you, the aura laying over your nude body like a golden blanket of light. 

“Is this okay?” you ask him, draping your arm over the back of the chaise, making sure the coin sits meticulously atop your chest before your other arm falls to rest against your body. 

He simply grins while nodding his head, his eyes drinking you in, a mix of surprise and desire evident within his expression.

“Yeah, that um…that’ll do just fine,” he tells you, the slight crack in his voice eliciting a smile from you, a break in his professional facade. 

With a deep breath, he takes his prized Faber Castell 9000, carefully sharpening the tip just a bit before putting it against a blank sheet. 

And then, as the true artist you know him to be, he begins without a hint of hesitancy. The gentle sound of the lead scratching away at the paper fills the quiet room— a sound you’ve come to cherish, a sound that signifies his craft is steadily blossoming to life.

He seems charmingly nervous, his hand gently brushing against his nose every so often between a series of strokes from his pencil, clearing his throat more than usual. His eyes flint to you, then back to the paper, then back to you, a succession of his adoration and determination, ensuring that the likeness captured in his art closely mirrors your essence. 

You try to keep your face composed, a seductive allure about your features. But as you watch him, immersed in his passion, the way he’s studying you so intently, it becomes nearly impossible to suppress the beginnings of a smile upon your lips. 

But despite your efforts, he takes note of the curve adorning your flushed lips, mirroring it with his own. “Relax your face for me, beautiful.” The soft rasp in his tone is enough to send a blush throughout your whole body. 

Breathing in your nose and exhaling through parted lips, you’re able to reclaim your composure enough to steady your expression. 

Every moment you share with him is a brushstroke of beauty, but something about this one stands out. The intimacy of it all, how he must diligently study every inch of your form to convey your image through his art, the intensity behind his focused gaze…your heart is racing in your chest, despite your relaxed demeanor. 

.⚘🀢⚘.⚘🀢⚘.⚘🀢⚘.

With the sun almost hidden behind the early moon, he completes the final stroke.

He lays his pencil down, gently blowing on the paper to remove any stray lead before he picks it up, examining it closely while he walks it over to you. 

As he holds it out before you, allowing you to at last see his craft come to life, you’re left entirely awestruck. 

“Oh, Jake.” The sight before you leaves you nearly breathless. It exceeds every expectation, beyond the boundaries of your imagination. It’s a portrayal of you, but not just that— it’s how he sees you.

It’s the first time you’re witnessing yourself through his eyes, and in that, you feel a profound sense of beauty within yourself that you’ve never known. 

“Do you like it?” He asks, a slight tremor present in his voice. 

“It’s…incredible, Jake.” 

Propping yourself up a bit, you carefully take the drawing from his hands, poring over his vast attention to the detail in your face, your body. 

Specifically your breasts, how perfectly he depicted their round curve above your rib cage, encapsulating the fullness and allure of them. 

You’re entranced by the way he drew the contour of your hips, how he captured the dip in them that you’ve always looked at with disdain, yet in his portrayal, you’re able to see the beauty in what you’ve considered a flaw.

He encapsulated everything, even the faint freckle beneath the curve of your left breast, and the mole under your belly button. He managed to immortalize all the intricate nuances that you typically overlook.

“Is this what I really look like?”

“Yes, but,” he takes the drawing from you, placing it on the mahogany table beside the chaise lounge. He helps you lay back down, gently caressing your face that he’s just conveyed through his artistry as he props himself above you. “The essence of your beauty defies any depiction.”

Then, his lips envelope yours in a kiss so fervent, so ardent, as though he’s waited hours to finally have you within his grasp. 

His hand moves with a swift grace to your breast, fingers toying with your perked bud. This erotic moment with him has you already so flustered, so sensitive to every touch of his hands. 

He breaks his lips from yours, only to land them down the column of your heaving chest.

“You’ve no idea how hard it was for me to look at you like this, to look at these,” he mumbles against the tingling skin, hands kneading the flesh of your breasts. “And fight the urge to come place my lips on every inch of this beautiful fucking body.”

And just as he said, he bestows tender yet hungry kisses down the length of your torso, maneuvering his body down the chaise lounge until he kneels before you. He nestles his face perfectly between your thighs, his warm breath tantalizing your wet center from his dangerously close proximity. 

“I certainly hope you don’t let all of your clients pay you like this,” you mutter, breathless and yearning for his mouth. 

“Only the ones that tickle my fancy,” he says, his words adorned with a playful wink before he delves into you. 

He laps away at your pulsing cunt, like he’s been starved for your taste this entire evening. The lewd, lascivious sounds he’s emitting from between your legs only serve to heighten your need for him, causing your back to instinctively arch away from the plush cushions. 

And when his lips envelop your throbbing clit, his tongue swirling around it inside his warm mouth, your body trembles and shudders. A rush of warmth encompasses you, starting from the depths of your core, the pit of your stomach, spreading to every inch of your being. 

You surrender to the intoxicating bliss, your breath catching in your throat while your heart pounds in a crescendoing rhythm.  

He guides you through it, gently holding your hips in place while the movement of his tongue slows in perfect time as with the ebb of your climax.

“Oh, that was so beautiful, my love.” He lovingly kisses the inside of your thigh before he stands, removing the belt from his patchwork jeans. “Turn over for me, baby.”

“Yes, sir,” you quietly utter as you obey his demand, knowing good and damn well what that specific name does to him. 

Just as he commanded, you turn your body over to your stomach, placing your elbows against the arm of the chaise, your back arched as much as you can so that your ass is sticking up just right for him.

“Love when my sweet girl calls me that,” he purrs before his belt hits the floor, his jeans and underwear quickly in tow and freeing his impossibly hard cock. 

“So, what’s the verdict, my love?” You feel the cushion sink in behind you as he settles himself between your legs, his right hand caressing your hip while the other teases your soaked cunt with the tip of his cock, leaking with precum. “Was my work to your liking?”

You giggle breathlessly, poking your ass out even further as an offering to him for his hard work. “Yes, I believe you’ve earned your reward.” 

He steadily begins nudging his cock into you, going slow at first, allowing you to fully adjust to him. 

Inch by thick inch, he fills you completely to the hilt, your breath catching in heavy gasps that are robbed from your lungs as he buries himself deeply within you. 

Your nails claw at the velvet armrest as his thrusts quicken in their pace, your upper body nearly going limp as you’re no longer able to easily hold yourself up.  

His hands hold a firm grip at your lower waist, pulling you into his cock rhythmically, yet becoming more and more disordered as he’s beginning to lose himself to the pleasure. 

You cry out a slew of obscenities mixed with his name, begging him to fuck you harder, faster.

Without question he complies, landing an open palm against your ass cheek. “So good for me baby,” he hums, his thighs slapping against the backs of yours as he drives into you just the way you need. “So fucking good for me.” 

With one more vigorous thrust of his hips, you feel that familiar rush throughout your whole body as your cunt throbs and pulses incessantly around his cock.

“Fuck, I feel you, baby. Pretty little cunt squeezing me so tight.” You feel the twitching of his cock inside of you, an indication that he's on the very brink of his own release. 

“Cum inside me, sir. Please…need you to fill me.” Your voice is faltered, your body still reeling from your second climax. 

“Jesus,” he groans, moaning exasperatedly as your words have him spilling within you, filling you with his warmth just as you requested. 

He stays buried inside of you as he catches his breath, feeling his release slowly trickling down your thighs as you struggle to fill your own lungs. 

You have to fight the urge to protest when he begins pulling himself away from you, not yet ready for the empty feeling he leaves you with. 

You practically collapse against the cushion, your body exhausted in the most enthralling way, the kind of exhaustion that only immense amounts of pleasure can bring forth. 

“My sweet, beautiful girl,” he whispers, kneeling himself before you as he softly caresses your flushed cheek. 

You kiss the pad of his thumb as it crosses over your mouth, summoning the strength to lift yourself up enough to steal one from his lips. “I hope it worked,” you say, gently cupping his face in your hand. 

“You hope what worked, my love?” He asks, leaning into your soft touch. 

“I was hoping this would help inspire you.” You reach for the drawing, savoring its beauty once more. “I was hoping I could help inspire you, pull you out of your moment of doubt.” 

“My love,” he murmurs, setting the portrait back down before he gently brushes his lips against yours. “You inspire me endlessly, every single day.” 

His tender smile warms your very soul as he leans in for a deeper kiss, imbued with all the love you could ever want for.

“You’re my perfect muse,” he utters against your lips, “I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of you.” 

.⚘🀢⚘.⚘🀢⚘.⚘🀢⚘.

a/n: suffice to say, this inspired the hell out of me when i've lacked inspiration/motivation lately. thank you, anon.

if you have any juicy ideas, feel free to send them my way. ♡

love you guys.

taglist: (let me know if you'd like to be added/removed!)

@jakeyt @objectsinspvce @stayinginthesun @sinarainbows @stardustcordzz @klarxtr @ohgodthefeeling-gvf @highway-tuna @way-to-go-lad @reesetrippingthelight @jakesgrapejuice @sacredjake @notthedroidz @kiszkashousee @psychedelicstardust-gvf @jjwasneverhere @gvf-ficreads @stardust-jake @gretavanbear @gvfmelborne @sirjaketkiszkasharmonica @jaaakeeey @neptune2324 @jaketlove @myleftsock @joshskittytickler @audgeppp @jordie-gvf @gretavansara @gretasfallingsky @jazzyfigz @louiseecraigg @hippievanfleet @blacksoul-27 @sarafrusciante2 @heckingfrick @citylight-delight @electricgoldtendercare @musicspeaks @hollyco @gvfpal @dannys-dream @josh-iamyour-mama @edgingthedarkness @earthgrlsreasy @hernameis-heaven @mackalah @gvfmarge

Masterlist

#jake kiszka x reader #jake kiszka smut #jake kiszka fanfiction #jake kiszka fic #jake kiszka fanfic #jake kiszka fluff #greta van fleet fic #greta van fleet smut #gvf fanfic #gvf fics #gvf smut #greta van smut #jake kiszka #greta van fleet

[reiniesainyo]

IN BETWEEN. charlie bushnell x reader – 01

01 | SPARKS FLY previous | next | masterfile

SYNPOSIS. when a girl's co-star is good to her and now she wants it more than everything in between. (smau)

A/N. this chapter is more like world building (it's where i explain what the fuck i'm doing with the YN okay)

The "Percy Jackson and the Olympians" series at Disney+ has added an unexpected pick to its growing cast.

The new live-action series is based on the hugely successful novels from author Rick Riordan of the same title. We will be seeing YN LN join the series as Rina Velasco, one of the supporting characters of the show.

LN's Rina Velasco is referred to as "the offspring of The Muses, goddesses of the sciences and the arts." Unlike most other demigods, she is born out of the artistic and scientific output of the muses. When the moral ingenuity of humans meets the divine musings of The Muses. Her character is described as a unique allrounder who becomes a mentor figure to our main cast as they embark on their journey.

This will be LN's first on-screen role of her career. LN's experience mostly lies in Broadway, she is known for playing Kim in the Miss Saigon revival on Broadway. LN was nominated for a Tony in 2022 for the same role. She is repped by Salonga/Chien Entertainment and B817 Agency.

Riordan posted on the Meta app, Threads, about this update to the casting saying: "YN was one of the actors we didn't expect to see a tape of but when we saw it, we couldn't help but fall in love with her. She embodies the spirit of Rina so well and is such a kind spirit, we can't wait for you to fall in love with her too! Welcome to the cast, YN!"

The live-action show is based on Rick Riordan's Percy Jackson book series. It tells the fantastical tale of the titular 12-year-old modern demigod (Scobell), who's just coming to terms with his newfound supernatural powers when the sky god Zeus accuses him of stealing his master lightning bolt. With help from his friends Grover (Simhadri) and Annabeth (Jeffries), Percy must embark on an adventure of a lifetime to find it and restore order to Olympus.

Production on the show is now underway in Vancouver. Riordan and Jon Steinberg are writing the pilot with James Bobin directing. Steinberg and his producing partner Dan Shotz are overseeing the series and serve as executive producers alongside Bobin, Rick Riordan, Rebecca Riordan, Bert Salke, Monica Owusu-Breen, Jim Rowe, Anders Engström, Jet Wilkinson, and Gotham Group's Ellen Goldsmith-Vein, Jeremy Bell, and D.J. Goldberg. 20th Television is the studio. Salke was formerly the president of Touchstone Television and originally put the show into development.

liked by percyseries, iamcharliebushnell, and 37,789 others thelnarchive the child of the muses @percyseries

percyseries OUR MUSE!

user1 this is literally perfect casting who cried i did ↳ user2 she's so rina coded! thank the gods for the casting directors

iamcharliebushnell only muse in my life ↳ thlnarchive only traveler in my life ↳ user3 the way filming hasn't started and they're already like this ↳ user4 their chemistry is chemistry-ing

user5 roman empire. she is my roman empire.

dior.n.goodjohn i LOVE LOVE LOVE women ↳ thelnarchive HELP i love you

user6 this is so fcking random but i NEED her in a taylor swift music video

A/N i truly hope you guys can forgive the horrible editing in the pictures. the article portion is based on (and has some parts that are directly pulled from) this article from variety ! here's some succint information about rina velasco, the PJO character YN LN plays (and is my childhood OC!) - rina velasco, filipino, 18 years old (year younger than luke) - she's an offspring of the muses, not directly a child or daughter, though she may be referred as such - by her being an offspring of the muses, i mean that she was born in the same way athena's children are born. - but in rina's case she's more like a weird conglomeration of each muse. her birth is a rare event, but her mothers are honored as minor goddesses so she stayed in the apollo cabin (connection to music) - rina operates as a guidance figure for the main trio, especially annabeth - she's also luke's love interest, there's a lot of tragicness and doomed romance stuff with those two - and for the sake of everyone, we pretend like the weird i love you from the books didn't happen !

#luke castellan imagines #luke castellan x reader #percy jackson imagines #percy jackson and the olympians imagines #percy jackson #percy jackson and the olympians #percy series #pjo #pjo series #pjotv #heroes of olympus #luke castellan #charlie bushnell x reader #charlie bushnell #charlie bushnell imagines #smau #pjo smau #pjo tv show #percy jackson tv show #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson smau #pjo au

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Could you do the OM bros seeing a friendly, opmistic, kind , funny Mc who's actually a cunning and a manipulative seducer/seductress. Always keeping a poker face in order to get what they want which is power and gets away with it but the brothers realize it too late( I know Lucy, Satan and Belphie are smart enough but It is possible for them to get "tricked" by Mc since they love them.)

Two-Faced Reader | Yandere Obey Me!

Power is what you’re after and you’re used to doing whatever you feel like to get it. Including acting like the innocent lamb that gets all of them wrapped around your fingers. Now whether you intended for their infatuation with you or not it's bound to further your agenda or more likely their own:

Leviathan 

“Whooooa talk about mad twists!”

Thinks it's hot when you switch from the sweet ingenue to domineering master 

Kind of likes the way switch 

And the curiousness if its some condition and you only do it with him

Oh how he hopes

At your command, he summons Lotan on the daily 

Sometimes completing sidequests without you telling him

Like offing those conspiratory NPCs

Satan

“I see what game your playing and I’m intrigued.”

He knows your games

And man does he love playing them

Your ambition rivals his own and he can’t help but want to encourage you

He’s not going to say he’s whipped but he’s certainly willing to cause all kinds of mayhem in your name

A shame that he’s not roped in by your fake personality

Asmodeus

“Oya~my baby wants them gone? Promise to give me kisses?”

He falls head first for you’re precious persona

So innocent, so cute

It makes pining for you all the more fun

And killing for you even more satisfying

He’s someone who’s not going to flip when you’re personality shines through

Your still his sexy lamb 

And he so badly wants to keep you

Even if it means using his beauty to deceive those who get in your way

And the ones he just doesn’t like

Beelzebub

“Don’t accuse them of such things, they hardly know how devildom works.”

Falls hook line and sinker for your persona 

No doubt easily deceived by your little acts

And in your defense, he’ll eat just about anyone 

Even when it’s revealed, the truth of your true colors he can’t help but still believe

That you’d been deceived 

That underneath the cunning persona is still the poor human that needs protection

And is number one in your crew for most likely to usurp 

You don’t know what you’re doing so maybe he and Belphie should bother with the bad guys out there

Belphegor

“...Right. But they still want that one out of the way and we promised to do that right?”

Sees right through you 

And originally isn’t all that fond of Beel’s perception of you

He thinks you tricked his sweet brother 

But in a way, he finds that he agrees

You're a stupid, in over your head human

And who better to intervene in your shenanigans than the two of them 

Plus he enjoys your bloodthirsty behavior

Though it's nothing compared to his murderous drive you’re still cute

If anyone is more likely to initiate the usurpation its him

Lucifer

“You think you’re so slick, I can’t help but be enamored.”

He doesn’t immediately see it

Playing into your hands for a short while 

Before catching on and switching from compliance and not

He thinks both sides of you are cute

But you're just so naive to think enabling their murderous tendencies will end with only who you’ve designated a threat

He and his brothers can easily see more than you 

So trust in that

#yandere obey me #yandere obey me asmodeus #yandere obey me shall we date #yandere obey me lucifer #yandere obey me x reader #yandere lucifer obey me #yandere lucifer #yandere satan #yandere belphegor #yandere belphie #yandere beelzebub #yandere beel #yandere asmodeus x reader #yandere asmodeus #yandere asmo #yandere leviathan #yandere levi obey me #yandere x reader #yandere x you #lovelyyandereaddictionpoint #yanderexrea #yandere #yanderes #yandere harem