#I made most of these upon initially reading - and then I had to sit on them through all of October!! Can you imagine the impatience??

[sysig]

Utterly Defeated (Patreon)

#Doodles #SCII #Helix #<Sticking to my tag so they're all together ♥ #Dexter Favin #Max Vyer #But really that's ZEX in there! What's left of him anyway ;; #ZEX #Hhhhhhh it was so goooood and saaaaad <3 <3 #Helix is a tragedy - on repeat in my mind ad infinitum #I made most of these upon initially reading - and then I had to sit on them through all of October!! Can you imagine the impatience?? #I've been absolutely chomping at the bit for these hhhhh feelings!!! So many!!! Max's eyes and ZEX being behind his single remaining ;; #Dex wanting him to be safe and knowing he used to and now he can't offer it anymore I jifdsahfdjsaf #Have I mentioned I love them lately I love them <3 <3 All of them! Dex and Max and ZEX! And DAX I'm sure ZEX misses him so badly #In a way it was good that I had a bit more time to set it down and come back - I reread it very recently hehe <3 #I still get teary at some scenes ah </3 It's so beautifully sad #But it also gave me some time to finish ZEX starting to shape the word ''Max'' and then back off it ahhhh it hurts!! #The rest were at least all lined at the time - came back in to tone some recently but they were all ''finished'' October 1st ah #Especially of Dex waking ZEX to call him by his title hhh they both just want peace so badly but it looks so different to both of them #Lingering on his scar and then carding through his hair <3 Comfort and softness and it's all not enough #His scar is quite fun to draw as well ah - scars tend to be like that haha ♪ The stitches and discolouration give it a unique look! #And the way his hair pulls back from it ah #I had a lot of fun with his hair hiding his bandaged eye as well - just barely peeking out always just enough of a reminder #And all his lying-down poses - his hair is fun to pose like that as well #One of the original Landel doodles of ZEX talking about what Hell would look like for a VUX really struck me as well #Dex can't help him in so many ways ehn </3 He wants to! But he wants Max and he just can't have him anymore #Hhhh it was such a good read <3 <3 <3 Thank you again to Zarla it really made and still makes me happy to read it ahhh ♥♪ #Now that I've (finally!) gotten my thoughts out I can read the other!! Yay!!

[gay-dorito-dust]

Can I request headcanons for Sunday, Boothill, Welt, Gallagher, Blade, and Dan Heng react to his shy gn crush giving him a love letter before leaving quickly?

Sunday:

Is calm upon receiving the note and still just as calm after reading it.

He knew this day was coming, you weren’t necessarily subtle about it either but he didn’t want to bring it up to you, knowing that if he did you’d loose all the confidence you’ve mustered up in order to give him the note.

He could read you like an open book and yet your sweet, genuine words touched his heart regardless. You held his heart in your hand and you weren’t even aware, he’ll be sure to rectify that soon enough.

While he wishes you could’ve told him in person, however he’ll gladly suffice for a note instead, seeing as it was the closest he’ll get in regard to an official confession.

With his place in your heart ensured, Sunday could finally use this as an opportunity to spoil you to your hearts content. Anything and everything you could ever possibly want or wish for was going to be yours if he had anything to do with it.

Your wish was his command and he’ll gladly rid himself of any competitors for your heart, all the while shielding your eyes from his underhanded tactics in doing so.

Welt:

You make this old man feel as though he were young and lively when you gave him the note and running off before he could say anything.

He felt as though he was in a romcom that he saw once…not that he was complaining.

Your note was so sweet and thoughtful that the more he continued to read, the more he began to find even more reasons to love you, for who you were was the most precious and perfect person in his life.

He didn’t want to confess first incase that he misread your past interactions for something else, but the note you’ve given him proved that his initial thoughts were correct, and that in reality he was just insecure and felt silly of the idea that someone his age was still experiencing things such as a crush.

But it was so much more than that and Welt knew it.

The only question left was, when was it going to be his time to confess?

Dan heng:

Thank god he took the note back to his room while he did because had he read it beforehand, otherwise his fellow trailblazers would’ve seen his face go the reddest it’s ever been in history.

He reads and re-reads your note to make sure that he wasn’t tricking himself but no, it was a real physical note from you confessing your crush on him.

Dan Heng felt as though he needed to sit down and think this through before he did something impulsive and stupid.

His little dragon noodle brain was telling him that he should seek out the most beautiful of all treasures, whether that be literature, clothing, jewels, and give them to you in droves in hopes of impressing you into being his mate.

Dan Heng dismisses it quickly as it came as it’ll probably overwhelm you and that was the exact opposite of what he wanted, and with that it was back to the drawing board to brainstorm.

Gallagher:

The moment he reads your note, he’s already got ideas on how your first date should go.

He’s not pissing about, not when you’ve given him the opportunity to treat you like he thought you should be treated; like you were the most priceless thing in existence because to him you very much were.

So why should he hesitate and potentially miss his chance to be with the person of his dreams?

He knew your favourite drink like the back of his hand from the countless times he’s made in perfecting it to your liking, so that wasn’t going to be as much of a problem as asking you out on a date was.

But he’ll figure something out, even if he’d have to improvise on the day. It would’ve been worth it if it meant having you by his side by the end of it.

Blade:

He’s not use to this sort of thing as love notes were a foreign concept to him.

He understood the intention and meaning behind it but he wasn’t the one to receive such notes.

So when you dropped off the note with him and ran the faster he’s ever seen you with a flustered look upon your face, Blade instantly knew then and there what the note was solely from your expression.

He wasn’t stupid so why he feeling a fluttering within his chest upon making this revelation?

It wasn’t painful nor caused his body any ache nor strife, if anything the more the warm, euphoric feeling spread throughout his body, the more his daily pains become an after thought in light of a possibility that you might actually like him back.

He always thought that the stories and blood -both his own and others- that stained his hands would run you off within a moments notice. Instead you choose to grasp his hands gently, wipe away the blood unfazed and still be able to look into his eyes after all that and smile.

You were his and Blade would be damned if he allowed anyone to encroach on you, regardless of their intentions. You weren’t to be taken from him for he’s already been through a lot and you weren’t going to be another name amongst the lost.

Boothill:

‘What’s this? Finally come to confess to me have you?’ He’d tease but would be genuinely surprised when he opens the note and finds that it actually is a confession note.

His crush? Liking him back? Bullshit!

He may act confident and self assured but he was in heavily in denial to begin with, but the more he re-read the note, he could tell that you were being serious. Which was a drastic change from your typically shy and anxious demeanour.

He even had to pinch the skin of his face to make sure that he wasn’t dreaming this up and that you were genuinely in love with him.

Sad he knows, but would you really be willing to date a man who wouldn’t be able to feel you expect from his face? Yeah he didn’t think so.

And yet you’ve proven him wrong by writing him a love letter confessing how you didn’t care about that, and how you loved him regardless if he could feel you or not. He was still someone you cared for deeply at the end of the day, never less someone you happened to find attractive. You weren’t shallow and Boothill knows this.

Not only that but he was genuinely scared that his best wasn’t going to be enough for you, sweet, kind, caring you…However Boothill recognises that hesitating and fearing the what ifs weren’t going to help him in wining your heart true and proper.

#hsr blade x reader #hsr imagines #hsr imagine #hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail #Honkai star rail imagines #Honkai star rail imagine #hsr sunday x reader #sunday x reader #sunday imagines #sunday imagine #hsr boothill x reader #boothill x reader #boothill imagines #boothill imagine #welt x reader #welt yang x reader #welt Yang imagine #welt yang imagines #hsr gallagher x reader #gallagher x reader #gallagher imagine #gallagher imagines #dan heng x reader #Dan heng imagine #Dan heng imagines #blade imagines #blade imagine #blade x reader

[sweatervest-obsessed]

Violent Delights Have Violent Ends

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!reader

WC: 1.8k

TW: Serial killers, murders, blood, referencing to infidelity,

A/N: This has been something I have been thinking about for a while. I hope y'all enjoy it!

Spencer did not realize that someone could know more about anything intellectual than he did. It honestly baffled him, when Hotch called him into the office, to introduce the two of you. 

“Spencer this is Doctor Y/N Y/L/N, Doctor Y/L/N, this is Doctor Spencer Reid.” 

He gave you a small smile, and a slightly awkward wave. You were beautiful, there was no doubt about it, an absolute plus to the fact that you were intelligent. He was captivated by your eyes but quickly coughed and looked back at Hotch. 

“Doctor Y/L/N—”

“Please Agent, call me by my first name after the initial introductions, Doctor makes me feel a tad bit ridiculous after like the second time.” You couldn’t have been more than twenty four, Reid deduced. 

Hotch smiled at you, nodding. “Please, call me Aaron, or Hotch, I feel the same way about agent. Reid,” He turned towards Reid. “Y/N, is going to be a consultant on this next case, and you two will be working closely together.”

Reid was suddenly excited by the prospect of working with a consultant. He usually dreaded them, but something about you made him excited to actually be able to converse intellectually with someone on the team. 

But luckily for Morgan, you were not what anyone was expecting. You all had boarded the jet, sitting around and chatting since you had a long flight from DC to Oregon, not really willing to get into the details of the case just yet. 

“So, Doctor Y/L/N, what made you choose Shakespeare?” 

You rolled your eyes. “Agent Morgan, if you keep using my official title, you’re going to be talking to the wall. Wanna try again?” 

His jaw dropped slightly, enjoying the banter you were providing. Derek Morgan was far from ugly, far from it. But he simply wasn’t your type. But that did not mean you couldn’t flirt back. 

“Well then, Miss Y/N, why Shakespeare.” 

You smiled, “Shakespeare is just another language. And I already speak French, Arabic, Spanish, some Latin, a little Greek, and I’m learning enough Mandarin and Cantonese to get by on my next trip to China. So understanding Shakespeare from a linguistic point, I’ve already got covered. Especially since it was something I could read easily from a young age.” 

JJ and Emily had stopped their conversation and turned to face you, eagerly listening in to what you have to say. 

“But, from a theatrical point, his writing is so incredibly intricate. There are layers upon layers of text and context and subtext throughout all of his plays and sonnets, not to mention the fact that Shakespeare can be transformed, moved from one thing to another incredibly easily. You have to factor in that he was a misogynist, anti semitic, probably-most-definitely racist, among all of the other things, but adapting his works throughout time is something I have a special interest in, particularly his portrayal of woman and how that has been changed throughout productions over the years, mainly focusing in comedies and this strange need for him to have happy endings end in weddings.”

The jet was all staring at you, while a smirk slowly slid onto Derek’s face. “Looks like you got some competition here, Pretty Boy.” 

You shrugged at Derek, and looked back at your phone. “I appreciate competition more than meaningless run-around conversations Derek. If you’re going to profile me, then just profile me. Or google me really. There’s no need to prod and pretend like you’re not trying to find out whether or not I’m single. If you wanted to ask me out, you should just ask me out.” 

Jaws on the plane dropped. Derek tried to stutter out a response but was cut off by Emily, smirking over at him. “Besides consulting on murder cases, what do you actually do with a PhD in Shakespeare?”

You looked up at Emily and shrugged. “Whatever I really want to do. It’s just flexible enough that I can bullshit a job I want and take it, excluding present company. Usually I consult in England with the Globe Theatre and the Royal Shakespeare Company, I also guest lecture Shakespeare for younger audiences, like high schoolers and first years in college because I’m still young enough that I could be considered nerdy by a high schooler, but have college freshmen not be able to talk to me because I’m just good enough to get away with it.”

“What did you get your undergrad in?” Spencer spoke for the first time to you since you met him, you smiled a little bit. 

“No one really asks me that.” You looked over at Spencer. “I have a bachelors in Directing with minors in English Literature, French, and Classics, and then I went on and got my Masters in Art History, since the visual aspect of the Arts is what interests me so much.” 

Rossi nodded, “Makes sense considering I’ve seen your thesis–very impressive.” 

“What did you write about?” JJ looked over at you. 

“I–” You started but Rossi interrupted you. “Actually, if any of you had done any research, or were familiar with the Theatrical Arts, you would know that her thesis was an incredibly well-received production of Hamlet that delved into the female psyche and experience.” 

Your jaw dropped slightly. “I-I didn’t think you, any of you would have even known that. Let alone had time to go and see my production?”

“Well, I have a fondness for the arts.” 

You shook your head. “Or incredible timing.” 

“Wha–timing?” JJ scoffed. 

“Well,it’s— the program was in London, and it was only running for a few weeks…”

“Rossi when the hell did you go to London?” Derek finally spoke up, slightly captivated by you, but not in the way Reid was. You were something else, something completely new, which meant he could learn, and you were something he wanted to learn everything about. 

“Well, right before I rejoined the BAU, I did a lecturing series over at Scotland Yard, and everyone had been discussing this production by the youngest female director to ever direct at the Bridge Theatre. I loved your use of, what were they, silks?” 

You nodded, slightly embarrassed, mostly in awe. 

“Ah yes, your usage of silks and the columns. I was on the floor, part of the cattle that was moved around. Very innovative use of that space, very impressive.” 

“I’d have to agree.” Hotch spoke up, and you turned to look at him, eyes even wider than before. He smiled at the look on your face. “When we got this case, and we were requesting you as a consultant, I watched the recording. Very good work Y/n.”

“W-wow, um, thank you so much Age–Hotch. I really appreciate it–from the both of you.” You smiled at him and Rossi. 

“I would love to hear all about this production, if you don’t mind me asking.” Emily slid across the aisle, taking the seat across from you, JJ doing the same, crowding Derek. 

“Well, as Rossi said, it was about the female experience, and my Hamlet, was absolutely incredible, really took on the queer aspect of the role since Ophelia was still a woman, and–” You explained the concept, the design, the thought behind all of it. Every single person on the plane was simply obsessed with you by the time you were done, asking questions when they were curious. It confounded Spencer how he had never really paid attention to that section of the world of academia, and he was almost beating himself up over it, because he had missed you this whole time. 

-------------------------------------------------------------------

“Eyes look your last, Arms take your—this is Romeo’s death monologue before he stabs himself. And this other one, is ‘Be buried quick with her, and so will I’, which is Hamlet trying to fight Laertes after he learns of Ophelia’s death…And..this is the one from this morning ” You turned to the sheriff who was just trying to make sense of the fact that you just were able to comprehend and relay Shakespearean information after reading the images of the victim's blood used on the walls, so calmly. “Sheriff?”

“Sorry, yes. Yes” 

You frowned a bit, “They’re getting more violent. This is Brutus finding out Portia is dead–’with meditating that she must die once, I have the patience to endure it now…”

Reid looked over at you, “All of them are the men’s reactions to the death of their beloved.” 

You nodded and sighed. “That means, uh…If he has a list,” You walked over to the white board and started writing the names of the fictional couples on it. “He still has Antony and Cleopatra…Macbeth and Lady Macbeth,,,,and….”

“And what?” The sheriff looked between you and Reid, as you turned a little white. “The um. The last couple dealing with murder/suicide of each other is, uh, Othello.”

Hotch gave you a look. “Explain.” 

“What do you know about Othello?” 

Hotch furrowed his brow.

You took his silence as permission to ramble. “It’s just a theory but, it’s regarded as not only one of the most tragic endings to lovers, even beyond the stupid miscommunications of Romeo and Juliet, because Othello kills his wife, believing she had cheated on him, suffocating her to death on their marriage bed, and then once he realizes he’s been tricked by Iago, he kills himself next to her body. It’s horrendous.”

“If I had to guess, He’s forcing the husbands to kill their wives, and then he kills them..” Spencer followed up, analyzing the pictures across the tables. “Based on the way they were positioned—he’s setting them up as a series of muder-suicides, just like Shakespeare.” 

“Actually.” You picked up one of the pictures and handed it to Hotch. “I think it’s a woman.” 

“You just stole Reid’s line.” Derek mused from the doorway, handing you a cup of coffee, which you gratefully accepted. 

Reid huffed and rolled his eyes. “It’s not my line.” 

“It is.” Hotch said dryly as he analyzed what you had just told him. “Y/n, can you please get me a list of the monologues left, so we can try and figure out who might be his next victims, so we can try and link the victims we do have.” 

You nodded and sat down at your laptop. It was bugging you slightly at how much you enjoyed working on this case, working with the BAU, working with Doctor Reid. 

This was the most action your PhD had seen since you had written it. 

Part 2

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #x reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x you #spencer reid angst #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader fluff #spencer reid fluff #dr spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x self insert #Spencer reid x y/n angst #Dr Spencer reid x dr!reader

[kamisatomay018]

It’s called being in love, Silly!

Neuvillette x fem!reader

angst with lots of comfort, very fluff, our poor hydro dragon struggling to understand his feelings. I hope you enjoy<3

It had been raining in Fontaine for 4 days straight now. No one knew why, yet the citizens were so used to the unstable weather conditions that all they could do was grumble about it and continue with their day. The cause of this endless rain happened to be sitting all alone in his huge office, staring blankly on the papers sitting on his desk, too lost in thought to do anything.

Neuvillette had a hard time understanding human emotions, despite being among them for over 400 years now. And just when he thought he was beginning to understand emotions like joy, sorrow, guilt, surprise and what not, a new emotion unlike any other came crashing down on him, that too unexpectedly: Love.

Sure, he had seen many, many people in love over these years. He had witnessed the love between couples, between families, friends and had read about it too, but he had never experienced it, until that one fateful day when his eyes landed on you, crouching down to examine a rainbow rose that had been crushed and withered, only to fix it using your dendro powers. He couldn’t help but be captivated by you instantly. While most humans would simply ignore the flower or throw it away, here you were, fixing it and giving it another chance to bloom again. He had also noticed how breathtakingly beautiful you were, and for the first time in his long life, he felt such weird feelings within him- his heartbeat accelerating, his stomach feeling uneasy. Only he knew how many glasses of water it had taken for him to return back to normal. And as if it was written in the stars, he kept encountering you often, and in the blink of an eye he developed..strange feelings for you. He loved being in your company, he shared his worries with you, your presence felt serene and your words would calm down the crashing waves in his heart.

To his utter surprise, one day he found himself standing in front of you, hearing your honeyed voice shyly confessing your love for him, and ever since that day, you both had decided to take a chance at being together. Neuvillette was very inexperienced when it came to love and he had told you that very honestly, but you were ready to teach him, to be patient with him. 8 months had passed by since, and it’s safe to say that he had been very happy in your company. Sure, he was still awkward and stiff, not initiating physical contact or romantic gestures because he just couldn’t understand them, but he was also a great lover. Always calm and gentle, taking care of your every necessity, taking note of your likes and dislikes. He had even opened up to you about being the hydro dragon sovereign, about his past and his hobbies. To his delight, you always tried to indulge in his hobby of water tasting, even listening to his intricate explanations about the taste of the water from each land. If things were going so well, then what could’ve possibly happened that made the hydro dragon so upset?

Well, two months ago you had moved into his apartment upon his request, and you both had developed a morning routine soon enough. Your love language was physical touch, but you always made sure to respect Neuvillette’s space. You both had not even shared a kiss yet, and the only skin ship, aka hugs and holding hands, had been initiated by you always. But of course, you didn’t mind because Neuvillette wasn’t a bad lover, he just needed time. After moving in with him, you had requested him to let you do his hair, for you absolutely loved caressing his long locks. His draconic features were so fascinating for you, and doing his hair would give you the excuse of admiring them up close. He had agreed, and ever since then, every morning you’d help him get ready, making sure the Iudex looked dapper and proper for his job.

However, a week ago, while brushing his hair, you had very softly caressed his horns, an action that had made his body stiffen and his breath hitch. Various insane emotions had emerged that very moment, emotions like his heart literally skipping a few beats, his stomach feeling all uneasy again and chills running down his spine. He hadn’t complained however, so you thought that he was okay with it. You continued doing that for the next three days, until the following morning, to your surprise and agony, Neuvillette had very stiffly asked you to not touch his horns.

You apologised immediately, trying to control the ache in your heart, blinking away the tears burning in your eyes. There was an awkwardness in the air that morning, and you hadn’t even hugged him goodbye as he left. How could you? Insecurities stirred in your heart, as you felt that your touch made him uncomfortable, because his tone wasn’t soft, it was stiff and hurried, which made your heart sink in hurt. That day you sat alone on the couch, overthinking about your relationship with neuvillette. Had he ever told you that he loved you? …No, he had not..he had told you that he liked you, liked being around you on the day you confessed your love for him, and had accepted your feelings. Was it out of pity? You had never told him how you longed for his warmth, for him to just hold you close, for him to at least kiss your forehead, or hold your hand. It was always you, and now he had asked you to not touch him. Tears rolled down your cheeks, and from that day, you had stopped initiating physical contact with him. Yes, you still did his hair, but you never hugged him anymore, you never held his hand, never touched his horns.

Neuvillette on the other hand, felt yet another wave of emotions crash down on him because of your distance. Why were these feelings so complicated? Ever since then, rain had been pouring down on Fontaine. Now he felt himself miss your embrace, the feeling of your smaller hand holding his. He had noticed the sadness looming in your beautiful eyes, how you had been more silent, how there was a heaviness between you both that neither of you spoke about. He truly hadn’t meant to hurt your feelings, in fact, all of this was a huge misunderstanding.

The reason why neuvillette asked you to not touch his horns was because he was shy! When you caressed his draconic features with so much love and care, it made his heart jump, his ears turn slightly red while he bit the inside of his cheek to not burst into his biggest smile. It felt weird- but in a way that was too good for him to handle! He just couldn’t understand what was going on with him. Is this what love is like? And why is it so darn difficult? There were so many things he wanted to say to you, but he held himself back. He wanted to hug you so tight, smother you with kisses and cling onto you, after all he was a dragon who was touch starved. But his mind told him that these thoughts were inappropriate, which caused him to come off as rude and cause that dreaded incident, which had now ruined everything. Just why couldn’t he improve, and be a good lover? Surely, he didn’t deserve an angel like you.

Today morning, he had invited Furina to visit him in his office to discuss this issue with her. She may not be an archon anymore, but she was still his dearest friend in whom he placed great trust. When he told her about all of this, to his shock, she burst out laughing! “Hahaha, oh my goodness Neuvillette!” He looked at her, absolutely baffled. “Miss Furina, I do not understand how any of this is funny.” After what seemed like ages, she calmed down her laughter, looking at him with an expression which indicated that everything was so obvious. “All the feelings you’re experiencing is called being in love silly! You’re in love with her, and such things happen! The uneasiness in your stomach is what humans like to call butterflies in their stomach, and is good! It is not wrong to crave her touch, to want to hold her close! In fact, I’m sure she must be dying to feel your affection in these 8 months!”

Neuvillette processed each word carefully, guilt seeping into his heart slowly. “So..you mean to say that..” Furina looked at him with a soft smile, nodding. “Yes, you have hurt her feelings, yes, you might have made her feel insecure. But! It’s not too late! Go talk to her, be honest about your feelings. Tell her that you love her.” Neuvillette looked down in remorse, realisation about many things settling in his mind. “I…have been a terrible partner to her..Will she even forgive me?” Furina placed a hand on his shoulder, smiling assuringly. “She loves you, and she understands you. But unless and until you’re honest with her, she can’t help you right? I’m sure she’ll forgive you, but you will have to make sure to not let her down.” “I cannot lose her, I’ll be sure to be a better partner..” Furina smiled happily, getting up. “Well then it’s settled! Good luck Neuvillette!” He smiled fondly, thanking her dearly. His mind was made up; tonight he would apologise for his behaviour and be completely honest with you.

Looking outside the window, you sighed softly seeing the rain. You weren’t a fool, you knew that something about you was bothering him. But what had you done now? You both had been so distant, so awkward since that incident that it was tearing you apart now. But if this is what he wanted, you could do nothing but respect his wishes. Sighing softly you heard the door to your apartment open, going like usual to greet him. However, today, for the first time you saw Neuvillette standing in front of you, a bouquet of fresh and glowing rainbow roses in his hand along with your favourite desserts. “Neuvi..?”

What he did next completely knocked the air out of your lungs, and took the words right out of your mouth- literally. The next thing you felt were the softest pair of lips against your own, making you freeze for a moment. Neuvillette had kissed you? On his own? But your body reacted faster than your brain, melting in his embrace as you gladly returned his kiss. Oh archons, nothing could feel better than this. Your lips moved together in perfect harmony, crashing together like the waves gently crash against the ocean floor. As you wrapped your arms around his neck, he pulled you closer, losing himself in the feeling of this foreign sensation. Your hearts were beating together in sync, faster than ever.

He then pulled apart ever so softly, opening his beautiful lilac eyes, staring at you with such tenderness that it made your cheeks flush. “Mon amour, I am so terribly sorry..I have been a bad lover..” You frowned at his words, cupping his cheeks softly. “No neuvi, don’t say that..” He shook his head, hugging you close, and you felt his body relax and melt into yours, just like you. “It’s the truth darling..please forgive me, I never meant to hurt your feelings that day, I never felt uncomfortable..I..I wish to be completely honest with you, and what I’m about to say might sound..ridiculous at best..” You smiled softly, glad to finally be able to talk to him, moreover be in his embrace. “Your feelings are never ridiculous..please talk to me, I’m right here to listen.”

He took a deep breath, being completely honest with you. “The truth is..that I want nothing more than to be close to you..I crave your touch, I crave to hold you close, for my draconic instincts make me naturally possessive and clingy towards you..When I am with you, my heart goes insane, I get butterflies in my stomach, I feel…shy, but so happy…However, these feelings are so foreign to me, that my mind makes me think it is..inappropriate. My lack of knowledge about love makes it worse..the truth is that my thoughts have been holding me back from being completely honest with you, and I know it is in no way an excuse that can justify my behaviour..I have made you feel unloved and insecure, and that fact alone is the biggest punishment for me..”

To say that your heart melted in an instant was an understatement. You felt so relieved, so glad that he was finally honest with you. You understood his feelings, you knew love was so complicated, and with him being a dragon, all these emotions were unnatural for him. As humans, fantasising about love and experiencing it is very simple. But neuvillette has been alone all his life, and love is far from what he has ever received. “Oh Neuvi..I understand you, but these feelings aren’t wrong! If your instincts tell you to hold me close, then please do it! I won’t be uncomfortable, in fact I crave your embrace..I feel so comforted and safe in your arms, your touch feels warm and gives me unexplainable joy..”

Neuvillette looked into your eyes, in disbelief that he had found the most kind, understanding and beautiful woman as his lover. “I..cannot thank you enough for how patient and understanding you’ve been with me..I give you my word, I will be better for you Mon Amour.” You gave him that sweet big smile of yours, one that always made his heart skip a beat. “You are the best already! You just need to let go of your formalities and be yourself with me..I promise you, I will not leave you..I love you for who you are Neuvillette..”

“I love you too Mon Amour..”

Your eyes widened, and at that moment you felt joy unlike any other. Finally, he said it. “Say that again, please..” He chuckled softly, placing a sweet kiss on your forehead. “I love you so much..” you laughed out of pure joy, hugging him so tight, feeling ecstatic. Your joy was contagious, for neuvillette felt himself smile wide, caressing your hair softly. “As..for what happened that morning..you touching my horns didn’t make me uncomfortable..On the contrary, it made me..extremely flustered and shy, it felt very soothing but so..unexplainably foreign that I asked you to stop, which I never wanted..I suppose I didn’t expect anyone to admire my draconic features like that..”

You pouted at his words, looking up at him sweetly. “But your features are absolutely beautiful! I love how unique they make you, that is why I wished to admire them…after all I want to love every part of you equally..” Hearing your words, Neuvillette let out a breath of relief “I do not deserve you..” You smiled at him, leaning into his touch. “On the contrary, you are the only one who deserves me..Don’t be afraid to be vulnerable and shy in front of me, it’s all normal! Besides, I love it when you smile, it makes me happy..”

He ends up laughing softly at your words, a sweet pink tint adorning his cheeks “If that’s the case Mon amour, then I’m afraid you’ll have to smile more, for your happiness is contagious in the best ways possible..” Both of you giggled at that, a newfound sense of love blossoming in your hearts. Your bond had strengthened even more, the rain had completely stopped while all the flowers in Fontaine were in full bloom. Perhaps being in love isn’t that complicated, Neuvillette thought. With you by his side, he’s sure he’d learn in no time.

#genshin fanfic #genshin impact #genshin fanart #genshin imagines #neuvilette x you #neuvilette genshin #neuvilette #neuvillette x reader #neuvilette x reader #neuvillette #genshin impact neuvilette #genshin fluff #neuvillette fluff

[xxsabitoxx]

I still do it better

Obanai x Mitsuri x Fem! Reader

Sequel to I can do it better

Warnings: rough sex, face sitting, cunnilingus, come eating, unprotected sex, creampies, marking and bruising, degrading, praising, overstimulation, consensual restraining, spitting, biting, breast play, scissoring, group sex, threesome, idk man a lot is going on I’m not gonna lie lmfao

Note: here we go! The long awaited part two. Hope y’all enjoy & I apologize if it doesn’t meet your expectations… this is why I kinda hate sequels I can’t lie 😭

The paragraph lengths vary in size because I had to break them up. They were initially massive paragraphs and I know damn well nobody is gonna want to read all that… so I had to break them up a bit half-hazardously

Word count: 10.5k

Your fingers trailed along your thighs, the small crescent shape bruises were nearly faded. For some reason, that made you feel a bit sad. It had been nearly a week since your encounter with the love and serpent pillars and nearly everyday that had passed since had felt as if you weren’t even there. You pulled yourself from your daze, turning to test the warmth of the bath water that you had been waiting on. You set your robes to the side, letting your body sink into the water and relishing in it as if it were a warm embrace.

You flinched at your own thoughts, you had been feeling utterly touch starved. You were silently longing for their warm bed once again, the soft touch of Mitsuri at your back, the warm breath of Obanai fanning across your shoulder. What got you the most is that you were missing him just as much as you were missing her. Not a day had gone by that your mind didn’t linger on that night. You had initially been so scared of it, the rough treatment Obanai bestowed upon you, the way Mitsuri seemingly cheered him on.

Part of you was mortified that you had enjoyed it so thoroughly. Now, you were aching to be treated like that for a second time. You craved the taste of her arousal, the feeling of his hands on you. They had unintentionally ruined you. You sunk lower in the water, not stopping until it reached just below your nose. You couldn’t believe yourself, betrayed by your own thoughts several times while trying to go about your day to day life. You had no concept of how to bring it up again, the physical reminders left on your skin wouldn’t let you forget.

Yet, part of you was aching for more, not quite satisfied with the marks that remained. You wanted more, from both parties. But above all else, you wanted to prove your worth. You wanted to convince Obanai you were worthy of his cum. Your legs kicked in the water, eyes squeezing shut as you came to the conclusion that you’d simply be plagued with these thoughts until you did something about them. Laying alone in your bed after had been the worst part. Having to drag yourself from their warm home and back to your empty quiet one felt like a death sentence.

“You really don’t have to leave just yet.” Mitsuri was worrying around you, fixing your hair neatly after you refused the offer of a bath. You wanted to wash your skin yourself, not create some fantasy that you’d stay here forever. “I’m fine, really Mitsuri. I need to get back in case I’m summoned for a mission.” You waved her off, thanking her quietly after she finished your hair. “Are you sure? You really don’t want to stay longer? We wouldn’t mind.” Obanai didn’t interject, instead he remained quiet as he began wrapping his face once more on the far side of the room.

He had been awfully quiet since waking up, but it wasn’t an uncomfortable silence like you were used to. “I appreciate the offer. I truly do. But I have to get back to my own home.” Your hands fidgeted in your lap, moving to stand with a slight limp. “You can’t even walk properly, please stay. Let us help you… it’s the least we could do.” You felt warmth spread across your face, especially since you caught Obanai chuckling softly. “Mitsuri please, if she wants to leave, let her leave.” You didn’t want to leave, but you knew if you stayed you’d fall in deep and never recover.

Little did you know the damage was already done. “Alright… but if you need us, you know where to find us.” Mitsuri’s hands fell to her kimono, fidgeting because she couldn’t quite figure out how to say goodbye. It was a one time thing, there were no strings attached from it. At least that’s what you told yourself as you bowed to them, stepping off their front porch and heading back the way you had come. It was a one time thing, nothing more. It repeated like a mantra as you limped back, face holding on to the embarrassed warmth as you tried your damn hardest to not look like you had just got your ass handed to you. “Damn him.”

You pushed yourself up, the bath water sloshing dangerously close to the edge. “What the hell am I going to do?” you whined to no one, your voice bouncing off the walls and right back at you. It felt like you were being taunted at this point, like the universe was waiting to see how long you would take to crack. You had to wonder what would happen if you just gave in. What if you just dragged your sorry ass back to their estate and begged for a second round… a rematch.

“Don’t be ridiculous.” you rubbed your face, trying your hardest to ignore the slow throb between your legs as your mind betrayed you yet again. “You’re a great stress reliever.” Obanai’s words lingered, probably a lot longer than they should have. The various things he had said to you felt as if they had been engraved on your skin. “Stay still and he’ll stop.” Mitsuri’s voice echoed softly, the gentle scrape of her nails on the back of your skull. Every time you close your eyes, you see them. “This has to be some sort of curse. Maybe Shinobu has something she could give me that will make me forget.”

Forget about the ache of wanting to people who would never want you back. You got out of the bath, not quite able to enjoy it the way you hoped you would be able to. The water ran off of you in rivets, the steam of the room was warm enough to not draw a shiver from you as you reached for a towel to dry yourself off. It was as if your body moved on autopilot, dressing yourself in one of your finer kimonos. It was a risky move, but you couldn’t keep going on like this without at least trying. Your fingers trailed along your face, head tilting left and right to make sure your hair looked alright.

You reached for your perfumed oils, dabbing a bit on your pulse points. You hesitated for a moment, wondering if putting on a bit of makeup would be too much. In the end you decided against it, you’d head out as you were. The worst that could happen would be rejection, then maybe you’d be able to move on. “It’s nearly 10pm, showing up at their home at this time will make me seem insane.” Yet, you were still stepping off your porch and into the moonlight, a clear destination in your mind. You sighed, knowing there was also the chance that neither of them may be home.

It was night after all, they could be patrolling their sectors and not be home till morning. Then, you’d feel like an absolute desperate idiot for doing this. Yet, the off chance that things would fall perfectly into place started propelling you further. The walk itself wasn’t a long one, you had come to find that you only lived about fifteen minutes from the two pillar’s estate. Thinking back on it, you only found your way home because of Mitsuri’s crow guiding you. How it knew your coordinates you’d never know, especially since Mitsuri had never been to your home. That, however, was a question for another day.

You steadied your breathing as the trees grew few and far between, eventually leading to the open space that their shared estate resides on. The estate itself was large, not as large as the butterfly estate but still quite spacious. A simple stone pathway leads up to the large roofed porch and double doors that would grant you entrance. You had to admire the amount of work Mitsuri put into her home, various wild flowers were planted along the pathway. You kept moving, slightly motivated by the various windows that held the light of glowing candles. It seems the two pillars were home, honestly it sent a chill of anxiety down your spine. Things had been so much easier when Mitsuri was the one initiating everything.

You stopped just before the small set of stairs leading up to the door, the quiet rustle of fabric making the hair on the back of your neck prickle. “Are you trying to scare the shit out of me, Obanai?” Your jaw clenched after speaking, a lame attempt at acting tough when in truth he’d scared the shit out of you. “Good to know you have some sort of spatial awareness.” He emerged from the shadows a moment later, still dressed in his corps uniform with Kaburamaru still sitting around his neck. You bit your tongue, scrunching your nose in disdain as he gave you a once over. “I noticed you as I was walking home, took a shortcut to beat you here.'' He looked almost smug about it, arms moving to cross his chest as he waited for you to say something.

“Oh so you’ve just finished patrolling for the night? I guess you’ll be of no use for what I came here for… Mitsuri’s home though, right?” You moved up the stairs, freezing when his arm shot out to prevent you from making it to the door. “That’s a sharp tongue for someone who’s trying to enter my house.” you glanced down at his arm before looking back up at him. “It’s the truth… I did come here for your girlfriend after all… not you.” You couldn’t see it, but you could just tell there was a shit eating grin creeping up his face. “You’re such a fucking liar.” you forced your expression to remain neutral, you knew you were a liar but you had hoped he wouldn’t see straight through you. “Don’t flatter yourself.” Kaburamaru hissed softly, reaching out to look at you better.

“Even Kaburamaru knows you’re full of shit.” Obanai’s hand moved to mockingly allow you entrance, pointing to the front door. “But if you’re so determined, go ahead and enter. I’m sure Mitsuri will be thrilled to see you.” There was a catch, you could tell by the glint in his eyes. There was something he knew that you didn’t. You stepped tentatively, pausing as your hand reached for the knob. “Go on, since you’re so desperate for her, there should be nothing holding you back.” The bite in his tone, everything you did that so much as pissed him off would only come around to bite you later.

That’s what it was, you realized quickly as you pushed on the knob and entered. He was observing your every move to use against you. “Obanai? That you?” Mitsuri’s voice echoed through the entryway, “Yeah, it’s me. We have a guest.” The rustle of cloth was followed by footsteps. “A guest?” Pink hair rounded the corner a moment later. Mitsuri’s hair was down, holding a faint wave from her three braids she typically wore. She was dressed in her sleepwear, the front of her kimono dangerously low and exposing her breasts. “I was just getting ready for bed. I didn't think we–Y/N!?”she stopped rubbing her eyes, blinking in surprise as she looked you over.

“Y-yeah, it’s me. If you were getting ready for bed then I can go…” You stopped mid-step backwards as Obanai’s hand grabbed your upper arm. “No! No it’s no trouble at all…I uhm…I assume…” Mitsuri’s face was steadily turning pink, apparently it was too obvious to everyone as to why you had hauled yourself over here. “She’s here for the reason you think, lovely. Seems she can’t stop thinking about you… though she claims to want nothing to do with me.” Obanai’s grip tightened, duo-tone eyes watching Mitsuri’s shift between the two of you.

“O-oh I see… well…” You could see the slight disappointment in her gaze, you wanted to turn and slap the serpent pillar for making you seem like a complete asshole. “That’s not true!” you swallowed your pride, even though it was literally the last thing you wanted to do. There was no point and no fun in any of this if Mitsuri was uncomfortable by the idea of you wanting nothing to do with her boyfriend. “Oh, It’s not?” Obanai jeered, he needed to hear you say it. “You’re such a dick, though I’m sure you know that…'' you glanced at Mitsuri, not able to hold Obanai’s gaze as you spoke.

“I-I came here because I can’t stop thinking about either of you. If you’re willing…I’d like to do it all again.” Heat flooded your body from head to toe, primarily in your ears. Neither spoke, for a moment you had to question if you’d crossed a line. “You would? Really?” Mitsuri’s eyes seemed to regain their sparkle, hands clasping excitedly in front of her. “Y-yes… if you’d have me… both of you.” Obanai should have known you’d turn into nothing more than a timid kitten when in Mitsuri’s presence. He couldn’t necessarily say he blamed you for it. As kind as she was, she was someone you didn’t want to upset or disappoint.

“Of course we’ll have you. Come along, let’s go upstairs, we can discuss more there.” Mitsuri’s hand reached for your own, Obanai’s grip letting you go as she dragged you towards the stairs. He stayed behind for a moment, watching Mitsuri practically hauled you up the stairs in her own haste. He had expected you to return a lot quicker than you did, for a moment he almost found himself impressed by your will to resist your desires. “Obanai?” Mitsuri’s voice pulled him from his daze, “Coming, I was just taking off my shoes.” his sandals were kicked off a moment later, Kaburamaru hissing softly. “Yes, I know. I’ll give you your dinner in a moment.”

“He’ll take a moment, he has to put Kaburamaru to bed. For now, make yourself comfortable.” The sleepiness the love pillar had felt was long since forgotten, replaced by a bubbling heat and shiver of excitement. There had been so many things she wanted to do, so many things that she had thought about doing since you had left that day. She had even considered going over to your estate only a few days after the fact to ask you if you’d like to do it all again. Obanai had convinced her otherwise, saying it was better if you came to them since they were the ones to go to you first.

He was certain you’d come back, though Mitsuri couldn’t really figure out why he was so sure of it. “You look beautiful.” Mitsuri smiled as she looked you over. “Oh-thank you… you look beautiful as well.” You hoped it looked effortless, as effortless as Mitsuri looked. Though something about the smile on her face told you she knew you had put a little bit of time into your appearance before coming over. “You’re so cute, y/n-chan. You’re trying so hard to not seem flustered but I see right through you.” She sauntered across the room, not stopping until she stood right before you. One motion and you knew she wanted you to open your legs, allowing her closer.

“You’re desperate aren’t you? It’s okay to admit it…” she reached to hold your face, holding you so you couldn’t look away from her. “… I am too.” “Y-you are?” You weren’t sure why you felt so vulnerable, part of you felt like you were a bother for coming over. “Of course I am, I’ve been thinking about you since you left last week. I wanted to go after you the moment you disappeared from our sight. I even had my crow follow you to make sure you got home alright.” Her thumb was brushing your cheek bone, green eyes scanning every inch of your features. “That so?” Your voice was just above a whisper, hoarse with desire. Her gentle reassurance quickly had your doubt melting away, replacing it with the desire that had driven you to this point.

“Of course it’s so.” Obanai was standing in the doorway, his haori discarded somewhere out of your sight. “Mitsuri…and I… were concerned about you. You left quickly after all, you never gave us a chance to discuss things with you.” “Discuss things…?” You glanced between the two pillars. “Yes, a lot happened, you know. And you were scurrying out the door… I should say limping out the door…” Mitsuri shot him a look, one that had him throwing his hands in his defense. “…anyways. I didn’t take it easy on you, then you were quick to leave after. Would have been nice if you stuck around to at least assure me you enjoyed yourself. I may treat you like a dick but I’m not heartless.” He stepped into the room, making his way to the vanity table Mitsuri had set up. “So, before we do anything… Did you enjoy yourself last time? Anything you’d like to do differently this time?” He began to unwrap his bandages, Mitsuri’s hands gently guided you back to looking at her. “Well, y/n? Did you enjoy yourself?”

“I… of course I did. I mean I was a bit overwhelmed at first but… I enjoyed it a lot. I… wouldn't have you do anything differently… honestly.” Your eyes squeezed shut as you uttered the last words, finally admitting to yourself more so than them that you did, in fact, enjoy the rough treatment. “That’s good to hear, though it would have been better to hear it a week ago.” Mitsuri let go of your cheek as Obanai spoke, stepping away from you with a small smile. Your head turned to look at the serpent pillar, face growing warm as you observed his unmasked face. Even in the dull glow of the candle light his scars stuck out. His eyebrows raised subtly, as if he was surprised to see you staring. You looked away quickly, chewing on your inner cheek in a failed attempt at not being embarrassed for getting caught.

“Well, if we’re all on the same page… why don’t we give it another go?” Mitsuri was shouldering off her kimono as she spoke, an innocent smile plastered to her face as her breasts spilled out of the top. There was something almost comical about the way both you and Obanai’s eyes zeroed in on her breasts, as if she were dangling candy in front of a baby. “Y-yeah… another go sounds good…” your skin prickled with desire, hands coming down to pull at the belt that kept your kimono in place. You stood a little quicker than you intended, the garment falling apart half hazardously as you tried to shoulder it off. “Eager… how cute.” Mitsuri was in front of you a moment later, helping you tug the garments off as Obanai observed quietly as he did before.

He loved to let Mitsuri take the lead, obediently waiting for her green light to do as he pleased. He didn’t mind it in the slightest, especially not when he was watching two women undress each other. His arms came to cross over his chest again, falling to lean back against the wall. You took the opportunity to close the distance, crashing your lips to Mitsuri’s and swallowing the noises of surprise she made. Your hands found her breasts easily, kneading the soft flesh for a moment before you moved closer, pressing your chest to hers. The noises of approval, her hands on your bare waist as your kimono fell in a heap on the floor, every motion causing your confidence to soar. “…bed.” It was breathless, saliva connecting your lips even after separating.

You let her go, dropping back to your spot on the edge of the bed. “Perfect… Now lay back.” You did as she asked, propping yourself on your elbows to watch her bend down to toss both of your kimonos to the side. “Obanai… you’ll do as I ask, right?” Your gaze shifted between the two, the smile on his face was enough to make your heart skip. “Of course.” It was almost effortless, as if the two had discussed things prior to your arrival. “Good.” Mitsuri was crawling onto the bed a moment later, arms and legs caging you in as she smiled down at you. “Lay back fully, no need for you to be up at all.” Again, you did as she instructed, completely enthralled by her and her closeness. “You did such a good job last time, eating me out and such…” you swallowed, eyes widening as your hazy brain began connecting the dots.

“I want you to do it again… just a different position this time. If that’s alright?” You blinked a few times, “you’re asking if it's alright to sit on my face?” You needed to hear her say it, not just imply it. Mitsuri’s face warmed considerably at your bluntness. “That’s exactly what I’m asking.” Yet she didn’t miss a beat. “Then, yes. Absolutely it’s alright.” There was no point in hiding your eagerness, not when your entire body seemed to throb with the desire to please her… and to please yourself. “Good girl…” the sudden praise sent a shiver through you, hands reaching to find purchase on her thighs as she crawled further up your body. “Real quick before we start… one tap on my thigh signals that you’re doing good when I ask. Two taps means you need to pause… three means you can’t breathe and need me to get up. Simple enough?”

This was a new side of Mitsuri, a side that took charge when Obanai wasn’t in the mix just yet. You loved it. “Yes, that’s simple enough.” You swore you heard Obanai chuckle at your obedience. Then again you couldn’t be annoyed when Mitsuri’s cunt was just inches from your face. “Alright then…” you swallowed again, watching as Mitsuri pushed herself up one last time. Plush thighs caged your head, Mitsuri’s cunt was hovering just above your face now. “Sit… please.” You begged softly, all too eager to feel her soft thighs squeeze your head. Mitsuri chuckled softly but lowered herself down just as you asked. Your tongue darted out immediately, licking fat stripes up her folds until they were slick with your saliva. Your nails dug into the soft plush of her thighs, dragging her down further as you lapped at her entrance.

The angle itself caused your nose to bump her clit every few passes, but created the perfect position to edge her for a while. Soft noises escaped the woman above you, her hips rocking ever so slight against your eager tongue. You drew the first moan from her when you tilted just enough to graze her clit with your tongue. Her warmth was intoxicating, making you feel warm all over as you licked and sucked at her cunt. Tentatively you prodded her entrance, collecting the taste of her arousal on your tongue as her head fell back. “You’re so good at this…” the feeling of her hands threading through your hair sent you into overdrive, tongue moving even quicker against her dripping cunt. The longer you worked on her the more prominent the throb between your own legs became.

“Spread your legs for me, please…” she moaned softly, hand reaching back to tap the flesh of your thigh. You spread them effortlessly and without hesitation, shivering as your cunt was revealed to the cooler air of the room. You were wet, embarrassingly so at this point. After only a few minutes of eating her out, you were dripping and needy. You weren’t quite sure what she was planning, considering she went back to gripping your hair and moaning praises as you worked. You nearly forgot about it after a minute, especially as Mitsuri’s first orgasm hit her at full speed. “O-oh fuck…” she yelped, hips jerking agaisnt your unrelenting tongue until she pulled herself up just a bit. You could catch your breath for a moment before tugging her desperately back down… she wasn’t going to deny you after all.

You tilted your chin upwards again, angling yourself to lick and suck at her already sensitive clit. Her whimpers and moans were all you could hear over the muffling of her thighs caging your head. When you felt something wet and warm on your own cunt, it came as a complete surprise. The noise that left you proved it, Mitsuri’s laughter following. “Don’t worry… it’s just Obanai.” You figured that much but the realization that his tongue was on your pussy was enough to freeze you up for a moment, mind drawing a blank. You tapped twice, shock causing you to need a moment so you could gasp for air. Mitsuri lifted herself, smiling down at you as Obanai’s hands gripped the flesh of your thighs, keeping them spread. “Don’t tell me you can’t handle this…” Obanai’s mouth was hovering your cunt, eyes trailing over your breasts and further up to taken in Mitsuri’s ass and back. “You caught her by surprise.”

Mitsuri spoke for you, rather likely the way your pupils seemed to dilate in response. Obanai made a noise of disinterest before lowering again, tongue slipping between your folds to prod at your clit. A shaky gasp left you, body feeling so warm you swore you’d melt into a puddle. You dragged Mitsuri back down, needing to feel her weight back on you. It was almost comforting in an odd way. You lapped at her cunt the best you could, a wet mess of your saliva and her arousal covered your chin. All the while Obanai was teasing your entrance with one finger, mouth suctioned to your aching clit. He was relentless, just like last time, not giving you any moment to adjust by starting off rough and fast.

You could already feel the familiar tension building, everything was too much, making you too sensitive. The moment he curled that one finger your thighs shook, but it wasn’t enough to push you over the edge. He knew that, which is why he kept doing it. The goosebumps that prickled your skin were a dead giveaway to him. So he didn’t adjust whatsoever, instead he dangled your orgasm right out of your reach. Every thrust of his finger had arousal dripping out of you, wetter and wetter as his saliva covered your cunt. You tried your best to keep up, the awkward angle making it a bit hard to do exactly what you wanted.

So, you tapped her thigh twice. “You okay?” She cooed softly, chest heaving as she had been just seconds away from coming a second time. “Yeah but…” you moaned as Obanai added a second finger, laughing softly at your reaction. “Can you turn around? Sit on my face the other direction.” It would be much easier for you if she could do that. “Oh? Sure…” Mitsuri moved herself around, locking eyes with Obanai as she did. He pulled away from your cunt, mouth and chin shining with your arousal. “Hey pretty.” You sucked in a breath, not used to the tender voice he was using with her.

Mitsuri giggled softly, moving backwards until she was hovering over your face again. Obanai watched, two fingers still knuckle deep and scissoring you open. You dragged Mitsuri down again, lips suction to her clit and sucking. “O-oh!” Mitsuri nearly fell forward, the new intensity bringing her right back to the brink of her second orgasm. “O-Obanai… can I?” His eyes shifted from her face to where your mouth was. After a second he connected the dots. “By all means, pretty.” You had no idea what was going on above and below you, too focused on getting her to cum a second time. Your chest seemed to freeze, breath sucked straight from your lungs as you felt Mitsuri’s body press to yours.

A second later you felt what was undeniably her tongue, not Obanai’s. The realization along with the sensation was almost dizzying. Obanai’s fingers resumed their normal pace as he watched Mitsuri eat you out instead of him. This time there was no edging, no teasing, Mitsuri was determined to bring you over the edge the same time you bought her over it. Which wouldn’t be hard at all considering how worked up you’d been due to Obanai’s stingy attitude. There was something incredibly lewd about the sight before him, maybe it was the sounds… no it was definitely the sounds… that were getting him the most.

Your pussy was squelching with each thrust of his fingers, walls suctioning to them as if you were trying to hold onto him. There were also the noises you were both making, the moans, the sound of wet tongues sliding along each other’s most sensitive parts… he cursed under his breath. His pants were far too tight, even though he had discarded his uniform top his skin was way too warm. He withdrew his fingers a moment later, placing his hand back on your other thigh to keep you spread. Your arousal smeared across your skin where his fingers gripped you, if you weren’t so occupied you would have complained about his withdrawal.

Obanai, however, had other plans. He watched Mitsuri for a moment longer before ducking his own head back down. The love pillar seemed a bit surprised as his head brushed hers, it only took a moment to understand what he was after. The angle was a bit awkward but he managed to fit his face down where Mitsuri couldn’t reach. While she was busy sucking on your clit, Obanai began fucking you with his tongue. Now your mind was really going hazy, your tongue’s eagerness halting all together as you simply forgot how to breathe. It was almost too much, too much warmth, too much stimulation… way too lewd for you to handle when Mitsuri was sitting snugly on your face.

You ached to see it, letting your imagination run wild with the ideas of what the two pillars looked like as they ate you out. Mitsuri took the initiative to begin rocking her hips against you, needing to reach her own release a second time. Especially since it was so close, she couldn’t let you leave her hanging again. Mitsuri’s gasp sent you spiraling, orgasm washing over you so intensely that you couldn’t help but cry out against her cunt as she came with you. After a few seconds, Mitsuri pushed herself off of you, falling to a heap right beside you on the bed. Obanai pulled away, taking the opportunity to stand and begin undoing the belt of his pants.

He looked over both of you, chests heaving as you tried to calm down. “Don’t tell me you’ve both worn yourselves out.” there was a small bit of relief as the restriction of his uniform fell off of him. He wiped his mouth of your arousal, watching as Mitsuri pushed herself up to look down at you. “S-still with us?” You nodded, hands rubbing your face to get rid of the shine. “Y-yeah… fuck.” Mitsuri smiled, different from her others, lazier. It sent your heart into a frenzy. “Do you wanna lay this way instead? It’ll be easier for what I want to do next.” You did as she asked, moving to lay on the bed regularly rather than sprawling across it.

“W-what exactly do you have in mind.” You had come to the conclusion that the two pillars must have discussed things at some point. Given the fact that Obanai wasn’t raising any questions, instead giving Mitsuri full reigns to do as she pleased for the time being. “Don’t worry, you get to relax for this. I’ll be doing all the work.” You let her move your legs, spreading them wide to reveal your cunt again. You watched her curiously, turning her body to hook one of your legs under her own. It took a moment but you quickly realized what she was doing yet again. “I-oh… I see…”

Your hands found purchase in their bedsheets, a terrible attempt at grounding yourself as Mitsuri slotted her cunt against yours. “I heard that this is supposed to be pretty fun.” She commented offhandedly, rocking her hips against yours. It was warm, slick enough that her hips gilded easily. Obanai studied you particularly closely, watching as you angled yourself better to aid Mitsuri. It was a bit addicting, watching the two of you fumble around. He would gladly let Mitsuri try all of the things she didn’t get to last time, but there was only so long he could wait before needing to put you back in your place.

The throbbing was only getting worse, but Obanai was a man of patience, he could resist his own temptation in order to really take it out on you. He’d never admit it to your face, but he’d been thinking about you just as often as Mitsuri had been. He was eagerly waiting for you to come crawling back, begging for more, just as Mitsuri hoped you would. Though she worded it far nicer than he ever could.

“Do you think she’s alright…” Mitsuri sighed, clinging to Obanai’s arm a moment later as you finally disappeared from their sight. “She’s fine, she’ll likely walk off the limp by the end of the day.” The dissatisfied sigh that left the woman beside him was enough for him to know that’s not what she meant. “You were really rough on her, I’ve never seen you act like that in the bedroom.” Obanai knew that was coming, though for the first time in a long time he didn’t feel like explaining himself on the matter.

“If she didn’t like it, she would have asked me to stop.” Silence fell between the two as they stood in the doorway of their estate. He really wished you hadn’t run off so quickly, there were far too many questions that they wanted answers to. “Should I go visit her tomorrow?” Obanai shook his head, taking a step back and pulling Mitsuri along with him as they entered their estate once more. “Leave her be for now. If she wants to, she’ll come back when she’s ready.” Mitsuri didn’t seem satisfied with that answer but decided to leave it alone.

“Mitsuri, you’ll have us here for hours at this rate.” Obanai was moving onto the bed, you realized that at some point he had discarded all of his clothing. You’d been much too busy with Mitsuri to even notice. “B-but… it’s so…” she huffed, the tingling remnants of an orgasm hovering just out of her reach. “It’s frustrating, that’s what it is.” He was moving behind her, hands trailing up her sides. “See, you’re even breaking a sweat, pretty girl.” His tone was enough to make you look away, for some reason it felt more intimate than the position you and Mitsuri were in.

“I-I’m so… close just give us a minute.” Mitsuri’s hips swiveled against yours quicker, whining softly as Obanai’s hands made it to her breasts. You glanced at her again, one hand reaching forward in hopes of her coming closer. She caught on, breaking away from her boyfriend to crash her lips to yours. For a moment, Obanai was reminded of the fact that this was likely still a competition in your eyes. Essentially being ignored for this long was finally getting on his nerves. He was more than willing to let Mitsuri have her fun, but your sly little tricks to keep Mitsuri away from him… he was at his wits end. “You’re not as subtle as you think.” You knew it was directed at you, that alone had you smiling into her hungry kiss.

Obanai clicked his tongue, moving to pull Mitsuri back towards him. “C’mon now, you’ve had your fun…” he cooed as she gasped, her third orgasm of the night hitting her as she fell into him. You were dazed, Obanai had pulled her away just before you were able to cum. “Remember what we talked about?” You watched them intently, pushing yourself up into a sitting position with your legs still tangled in her’s. “I-I Sorta do.” Obanai chuckled, motioning for Mitsuri to sit up by the pillows. “You’ll remember better in a minute.” He let her go, watching as she untangled herself from you.

With Mitsuri out of the way, you were left on full display for Obanai. Nothing was separating him from you now, especially as Mitsuri settled just behind you on the mattress. “I’d like to think that we’ve been lingering in your mind.” the comment had scrunching your nose, not quite seeing where he was taking this. “Tell me, have you touched yourself thinking about us?” your legs immediately wanted to snap shut as his eyes dragged over your glistening cunt. “I haven’t actually… couldn’t satisfy myself in the way you both did.” It tumbled past your lips despite your body’s natural reaction to shrink away.

Obanai seemed pleased with that answer, hand wrapping around the base of his neglected cock, finally giving it a small bit of attention. “Hmm? That’s just what I wanted to hear.” he chuckled softly, breathier than normal as he stroked himself slowly. “How pathetic you must have looked…felt…nothing but your fingers and it still did nothing for you.” He ruined you, so did Mitsuri. If you had the capacity to think of anything outside of the two of them at this given moment… You’d be wondering how you’d go on with your life after this came to an end. “Probably sounded pathetic too…” you weren’t sure what made you want to feed into his narrative, but the red coating his cheeks as he spoke to you made you want to see him crumble.

“Hmm? Why’s that?” Mitsuri spoke for you, hands coming up to run through your disheveled hair with her eyes locked on Obanai’s fist. “Couldn’t stop whining… it was frustrating you know… kept thinking about the two of you…” Obanai inhaled sharply, torn between wanting to put you in your place and ease your previous frustrations. Though he couldn’t understand why he was even torn in the first place… that was a thought for later. “Oh? I’d that’s the case why don’t you tell me how badly you want this.” He motioned to his cock, head tilting and eager to hear what you would say.

“Haven’t I given you enough? Or would you rather I fuck your girlfriend again to prove it?” Mitsuri suppressed a giggle, shifting herself so your head was in her lap. Leaning her weight on her free hand, she continued to stroke your hair. Obanai huffed out a humorless laugh, “You’re still a fucking pain.” You yelped as he suddenly grabbed your ankles, holding them as tightly. “Mitsuri, remember now?” Obanai’s tone changed as he spoke to her, purposely ignoring your wide eyes. “Yeah, I believe I do.” Her fingers left your hair, trailing down to your arm and stopping when she reached your wrist.

You glanced up at her, watching as she found herself a new position and reached for your other wrist. Now, she sat behind you, head on her lap and legs tucked neatly underneath herself. She brought your wrists together slowly, holding them in a gentle grip that you knew you wouldn’t be able to escape from even if you wanted to. “Good job.” Obanai cooed as he moved closer, shifting his grip from your ankles to your calves as he pushed your legs towards your chest. “Mitsuri wanted me to take it easier on you this time around, she’d like me to be gentle with you…” now, he fully pressed your legs to your chest, forcing you into an awkward position, one you couldn’t move from. “I told her no.”

You swallowed, being completely restrained sent a chill down your spine, the second orgasm you’d been denied of only moments prior was prickling your skin. That familiar throb returned, aching so deeply it was as if you never came in the first place. Obanai angled himself, pressing the dull head of his cock to your weeping entrance, no assistance needed. “You don’t mind, right? You like when I use you like a fuck toy… it’s why you came back, yeah?” You would say or agree to anything in that moment, especially with the way he was shallowly thrusting against you, teasing you by not entering at all.

“C’mon…I won’t do anything till you tell me I’m right…” he pressed his hips forward, the head of his cock splitting you open. You inhaled sharply, hands flexing in Mitsuri’s grasp as you sought for something to ground you. “Y-yes… fuck you… seriously… but yes. Use me… please just fucking—“ Obanai cut you off, pressing his hips forward and bottoming out immediately, watching intently as you squealed and squirmed from the sudden intrusion. Your eyes had squeezed shut, lips trembling as you tried to steady your breathing. You were wet enough that bottoming out within a second hadn’t hurt but the stretch had certainly taken your breath away.

“Ah, Obanai…” Mitsuri’s brows were creased with worry, easily switching both of your wrists to one hand so she could caress your cheek with the other. “She can take it.” He spoke through gritted teeth, heart thumping wildly as your walls spasmed and suctioned to him. Maybe he had neglected himself a little too much during you and Mitsuri’s foreplay. He could feel himself throbbing, threatening already to spill a load deep inside of you. It pissed him off to no end, especially since he had no intentions of cumming in you. He still didn’t think you were quite ready for that yet, he still didn’t think you deserved it. “Can you?” Mitsuri’s question caught both of you off guard, your eyes flying wide to stare up at Mitsuri before moving to stare at Obanai who was hovering over you.

“Oh? You’re picking up on her sharp tongue, aren’t you, pretty girl.” Obanai chuckled, though you could tell it was a bit strained. He hadn’t moved yet, the grip on your legs would likely leave bruises. It thrilled you. Mitsuri sighed, thumb still rubbing along your cheek as she gripped your wrists together. “Just seems like you’re trying not to cum, Obanai.” You didn’t think she had it in her, her voice had taken on a sultry undertone, different from the breathy whines she bestowed upon you. “Watch it…” he gritted out, face bright red as his eyes squeezed shut.

He hadn’t expected Mitsuri to defend you… though he couldn’t say that he didn’t enjoy seeing her do so. “Well? Is her pussy that good?” You swore you were dreaming, that’s what it is, you were dreaming right? You never would have thought Mitsuri was capable of talking in such a way. Obanai seemed a bit hesitant, as if she were testing him by asking. “I’m serious, it’s not like I have the ability to feel it the way you do…” it clicked, she was a bit envious. “I mean I know how good it feels from the outside… but inside… ahh I wish I could know! Tell me please, Obanai.”

For a moment your eyes locked, you and Obanai sharing the same look of disbelief as Mitsuri rambled on. It took him a moment to collect himself, he had gotten passed the point of nearly coming but now he needed to wrap his brain around everything Mitsuri had said. “I…uhm…good… it feels good.” He swallowed, looking up at Mitsuri through his lashes. “Ah that’s not good enough! Describe it to me…” she whined softly, the feeling making your entire body squirm. You needed him to move, if not you were convinced you’d lose your mind being stuffed so full while listening to them speak in such a way about you.

“It’s…shit… it’s warm…” it was a slow start, just as slow as he dragged his hips backwards before pushing in again. The fraction of a movement, barely there but enough to have you gritting your teeth. “C’mon Obanai… you can do better than that…” Mitsuri sighed “you could also do better if you moved.” She had a disappointing tone, as if upset Obanai wasn’t doing as she asked of him. That seemed to be enough to jumpstart his brain…and his hips… as he gasped. Legs still pressed to your chest, he used them for leverage as he pulled nearly all the way out before slamming back into you.

A loud, shaking moan slipped past your lips as he repeated the process, pistoning his hips until you couldn’t see straight. “I’m waiting…” she mewled softly, watching your face contorted in pleasure while Obanai seemed to be biting his tongue. “It’s…” he groaned as your walls suctioned and spasmed around him, your cunt was good, too good even, and it irked him to no end. Admitting that out loud just may kill him, but disappointing Mitsuri seemed like a far worse fate to face. “It’s good…fuck it’s so wet.”

You inhaled sharply, skin prickling with sweat as he spoke. Your pain was fully outweighed by the pleasure, though you were certain your body would be sore after. “It’s tight too, hot and wet and tight…soft…” his hips stuttered as he lost control over his words, taking only a moment before he found his rhythm again. “And it’s still undeserving of my cock.” He gritted out, looking you in the eye now without any embarrassment. “It’s the pussy of a little fucking whore.” The smile was strained, but it sent a shrill of arousal through your entire body, walls fluttering uncontrollably.

“Oh…” she cooed softly, urging him to keep going as your moans turned to cries. Tears burned your eyes, clit throbbing and neglected as he continued to pound into you. You couldn’t even figure out where the tears had come from, but that didn’t matter one bit. Not when Obanai’s pupils seemed to drown out the color of his eyes, completely enthralled by the wet streams running towards your temples. He wanted to see them streak your face, the same way they did when he shoved his cock so far down your throat… “What a little whore… mad that I won’t make you my cum dumpster?”

He chuckled, hips meeting your body particularly hard, dragging an unrestrained yelp from you. “Answer me or I won’t move.” Mitsuri was quietly hypnotized by the scene playing out right before her, cunt throbbing with needy desire. She couldn’t tell who she wanted to be more… Obanai was never this rough with her but she’d give anything to experience you the way he was right now.

“Obanai…” you whined softly, his own name coming from your lips caught him by surprise. “Please…” you didn’t even know what you were asking for, uttering the words in hope that he’d somehow decipher it. “Obanai… kiss her.” Mitsuri instructed softly, the tears leaking from your eyes never slowed. Obanai stopped for a minute, teasing you by only leaving half of his length inside.

“Kiss her? Why should I do that?” He hadn’t kissed you ever, not last time and you assumed he wouldn’t this time. “Because I want you to… I’m sure she wants you to… you want to.” Mitsuri’s face was flushed, pupils dilated and eyes filled with need. Obanai couldn’t say no when she looked like that. You watched him, chest heaving as you sniffled, waiting for him to act. Obanai shifted more of his weight onto you, hands gripping your legs so intensely you were certain there would be bruises for a while. His hips pushed into you again, just as his lips crashed to yours. It was sloppy, a mess of teeth and tongue.

You cried into the kiss, the new closeness allowed you the tiniest bit of friction for your aching clit. Each thrust had his hips slapping into yours, abdomen pressing to your lower half just as tightly. Obanai seemed to lose himself a bit, kissing you so deeply you forgot how to breathe. He parted a moment later, head ducking to bury itself in your neck as he bit down on the sensitive skin. You yelped, body flinching as his teeth threatened to break your skin. “There…” he pulled away, admiring the deep indents of his teeth.

Mitsuri watched as your lips met his again, the bed shaking with the force of his thrusts. She had to wonder how he was holding up so well, considering he was seconds away from falling apart after entering you. Though, maybe that offhand thought had jinxed him. Obanai’s thrusts turned sloppy, he was convinced he could last long enough to pull out of you right when the timing was right. It wouldn’t be that hard, he’s done it before.

Yet you continued to prove him wrong, walls tightening like a vice around his cock, pulling his orgasm straight through him. He gasped into your mouth, pure shock as he dragged his hips out of you, spurting the rest of his release on your cunt. Though, it had been too late, some of his cum had been released deep inside of you. His face was bright red, a look of shock on all three of your faces as his lips parted from yours. The room was quiet save for your ragged breathing, you couldn’t quite believe that he had messed up. Though it drew a cocky smile up your tired face, “I-I thought you weren’t gonna give me your cum… thought I wasn’t good enough…” you glanced up a Mitsuri, her eyes locked on your cum covered cunt.

Obanai couldn’t meet your eyes for a moment, he too was watching his own release slip out of your fluttering hole. “Mitsuri…” his voice was low, the grip on your legs finally loosening enough for you to relax them a bit. “Hmm?” She was hiding a smile, wishing he would have dumped the whole load in. “You’re going to fix this.” He moved away from you entirely, dick still twitching with need despite coming. “Fix it?” She let go of your wrists, watching as you managed to stretch while keeping your legs spread in order to not smear his cum. “Yes, you’re going to clean her up… with your mouth.” Obanai had made enough room for Mitsuri to take his place, hand wrapping around his cock tightly.

“And you’re going to make up for it.” You watched him motion towards his cock before meeting her eyes again. “You caused this, after all.” You blinked, watching Mitsuri move without hesitation, settling below you on her stomach, ass in the air for him. “H-how’d Mitsuri cause this?” You yelped as the pink haired woman dragged her nails over your thighs, hands kneading the squishy flesh before dragging you closer. “Doesn’t matter, but seeing that she’s complying so easily, she knows I’m right.” Mitsuri only chuckled, tongue licking up your thigh. You couldn’t complain, not when you still felt a cocky sense of pride over what happened. 

Instead of cleaning you up like he instructed, Mitsuri used two fingers to collect the rest of his release. You gasped as she plunged both fingers inside, forcing more of his cum in you. Obanai watched with parted lips, hand coming to knead the flesh of Mitsuri’s ass before lining his cock up with her entrance. “She really is rubbing off on you, you’re usually so obedient.” Mitsuri hummed before moving her mouth to hover over your clit, looking at you with a small smile. “I’ve come to see why y/n finds it so fun to mess with you… you’re pretty hot when you’re mad and embarrassed.” Her mouth met your clit a moment later, tongue lapping at it. 

Obanai scoffed, rosy blush on his cheeks as he pressed his hips forward. Even when mad, he still managed to take things easy on her. At least… easier than he did with you. Mitsuri’s stuttering breath had your head tilting back, the orgasm that had been dangled out of your reach that whole time was now in your grasp. Sloppy and uneven thrusts forced Mitsuri’s mouth against your cunt in various amounts of pressure. The tension in your gut building with each struggling suck and lick as Obanai’s hips met her ass with each thrust. “Gonna cum again?” He was seething, yet perfectly able to control himself when it came to Mitsuri. 

“Fuck…yes…” you slurred out, walls twitching around her fingers as she messily plunged them in and out of you. You came crashing down around her, a loud breathless moan escaping your lips as your body arched off the mattress. Mitsuri whined, losing balance as your body moved away from her. Obanai watched both of you in fascination, yet he was not willing to let himself get distracted like he did before. That’s why he blamed Mitsuri, asking him to kiss you had fully thrown him off. He had become so engulfed in you that he didn’t even recognize the warning signs until he was already diving head first off of the cliff. 

His hips moved in a hasty rhythm, the flesh of Mitsuri’s ass rippling each time he moved forward. It was addicting, just as addicting as to it fucked out expression as you tried to sit yourself up. “Don’t run off now…hah…I’m not done yet.” Obanai fixed you in place with a hard glare, your eyes immediately shifting down to the mumbling and drooling mess below you. Mitsuri was on the brink of another orgasm, at this point she had lost count of how many she had. The only thought ringing through her mind was how well both of you treated her. “Y/n… Obanai…” you it names left her in a struggling mantra, drunk off of both of your bodies. 

“Come for me, pretty girl… I know you want to.” Sweat was dripping down his temple, abdomen going taut as he tried to hold himself back. He had other plans in mind, he refused to come until he was able to achieve them. You, on the other hand, moved forward, body feeling like gelatin as you moved towards him. Obanai’s eyebrow cocked, watching as you struggled to move to the opposite end of Mitsuri. You nearly collapsed into him, watching as the pink haired woman squashed her cheek into the mattress, no longer able to support herself.

“Here…come for us please…” your hand snaked lower, finding her clit and rubbing it quickly. Overstimulation nearly overpowered her pleasure as a high pitched shriek left her, her final orgasm ripping through her body as a gush of warm liquid splattered Obanai, your hand and the sheets below. “Holy shit…” you croaked as she fell limply against the mattress, pulling Obanai out of her in the process. “Fucking filthy…” Obanai sneered, as he looked at you. “Get on your knees.” He ordered a moment later, cock wet and shining from Mitsuri’s release. 

You nearly fell off of the bed, knees hitting the wooden floor unceremoniously. You knew what was coming next, it sent a shrill of arousal through you as he got off of the bed with you. “Open your mouth… though from the looks of it you know what’s coming, don’t you? You little whore.” Your mouth parted, tongue sticking out as he grabbed your cheeks with his free hand. As excited as you were, you still clinched when a glob of his spit landed on your tongue. “Be a good little whore and swallow like you did last time.” You did, mouth shutting and reopening a moment later. 

“Atta girl…” the praise nearly had you melting. Mitsuri watched from the mattress, too worn out to even lift her head, never mind moving to help you. Obanai, as ruthless as ever, shoved his cock down your throat in a similar fashion to last time. You choked, embarrassingly loud as tears burned your eyes again. He hit the back of your throat, hand grabbing a fistful of your hair to drag you along his length. The taste of bitter precum mixed with Mitsuri’s release, the force of his tugging making you see stars. Your hands scrambled to find his legs, nails scratching the delicate skin  of his thighs as you tried to steady your breathing. 

Your nose brushed his pubic bone, body tensing as he held you in place. You looked upwards through wet lashes, watching a smirk creep up his face. The scars on his cheeks only lengthened it, he reminded you of a snake. You had the urge to call him beautiful again, though it would be quite difficult to do so at the moment. You forced your jaw to relax, seeing that he had no intentions of pulling out just yet. “You’re such an addictive pain in the ass… I mean really.” He pulled your hair a little tighter, watching as tears slipped down your cheeks. Sick satisfaction bubbled in his gut as your eyes turned glossy.

 He let you go a moment later, allowing you a second to breathe properly before shoving himself back down. “I’ve never met someone so infuriating…ha…yet so fucking intoxicating. To the point I actually miss your presence.” You made a noise of surprise, watching his head fall back as your throat vibrated. “T-that shocks you hmm? I figured it would…shit…ya know I’m really trying, Mitsuri.” His eyes shot over to her, her eyes lidded with sleep as she watched. “She was so persistent about me being nicer to you… easier…” his hips began thrusting back and forth, building in tempo slowly. 

“I think you can take it though, I think you enjoy being used as a fuck toy.” He slammed his hips down, earning another harsh gag from you as drool dripped down your chin. Your tongue lathered the underside of his cock, throat constricting as you swallowed the best you could around him. It didn’t help the saliva running down your chin and neck, dribbling onto your chest as Obanai had his way with you. “Cmon now…” his hand hit your cheek a couple times, pulling your attention back to him. “You enjoy it, don’t you?” this time you hummed something similar to a yes, throat vibrating around him once again. He was going to cum, he knew he was, but he was torn.

Come down your throat or see how pathetic you look with your face covered in it. He was already familiar with the satisfaction that came with the ladder, seeing your face covered was all too appealing. Not willing to fuck up again, the hand in your hair tightened to keep you in place as he retreated from your mouth all together. “Be a good little bitch and keep your mouth open…tongue out.” You watched with blurry vision as he pumped himself with his free hand. Your saliva clung to him, allowing his fist to glide rapidly. “You got lucky.. Lucky that Mitsuri distracted me. This time…fuck… this time it’s my way.”

It took a few more pumps for Obanai to spill himself all over your face. Sticky white painted your mouth, chin, chest and even your cheeks. Eyes squeezing shut in fear of getting it where you’d prefer you didn’t. The sight itself was nothing short of filthy, paired with the shaking whines of the man fisting your hair, it was enough to make Mitsuri squirm, head turning to look away. Obanai let go once his orgasm had died down, nothing but labored breathing filled the room as you tried to collect your wits. “Are you alright?” Obanai’s voice was quiet, face flushed and sweaty as he dropped down to your level. You swallowed, “Y..yeah…a wet cloth would be nice though…”

“Of course… get on the bed and make yourself comfortable. I’ll be back.” Mitsuri was pushing herself up, scooting to lay her head on one of the pillows. “Ahh y/n-chan, come lay beside me. You’re not running away from us again.” You pushed yourself up as Obanai disappeared from the room, making your way over to the bed and nearly collapsing onto the sheets. The only thing stopping you was the fear of making a mess… granted the sheets already needed to be changed due to Mitsuri. “Run away? I slept here last time too.” You chuckled softly as she rolled over. “Yes, but you still ran away the morning after. You’re not allowed to do that this time!”

“That so? How come.” you teased softly, trying to ignore the fluttering in your chest. “We have a lot to discuss, but I’m far too tired… you are too.” You opened your mouth but no words came out, “Mitsuri, you’re doing it again. You make it seem like we’re going to execute her or something. Don’t fill her head with useless worries or she’ll never fall asleep.” Obanai entered the room, wet cloth and new sheets in hand. He had also taken the time to throw on a kimono, as if trying to be modest after what you had just done. You let him clean your face, hands gentle as he wiped away his mess. It was probably the gentlest he’d ever touched you.

“Sorry…I guess that’s true.” Mitsuri slurred, already falling asleep. “G’night Mitsuri.” you laughed softly, eyes glancing over Obanai’s face. “We’ll change the bedding in the morning. You can bathe then as well, we have clothing you’d like if you’d allow us to wash the clothing you came in.” He was motioning you backwards, pulling a pillow to place under your head. “Oh… thank you…I don’t mean to be a nuisance.” he scoffed, shouldering off the clothing he had put on once again. “Stop saying things like that. We want you here, y/n.” You snorted, “You’ve called me a pain multiple times.” He climbed in beside you, the gentle snores signaling that Mitsuri had fallen asleep already.

“That’s because you are. But that’s not a bad thing… I assume you see me as a pain as well.” He sighed, settling comfortably on his back. “Oh absolutely… you’re just a bit insufferable… though I can’t say you don’t fuck me good.” You hummed, ignoring the burn in your cheeks as you shifted onto your side, back facing him. “Glad we’re on the same page… now get some sleep. Mitsuri and I have some things to talk about in the morning with you… so don’t try and run off like last time.” You huffed softly, muttering out a soft “fine” as sleep tugged at you. You could sleep easier when they were with you, warmth on each side, lulling you to sleep.

The third and final part of this little series will be I Always Do It Better

I plan on working on it and posting it hopefully some time this summer… definitely don’t intend on making y’all wait over a year again lmfao. I hope you enjoyed this part!! - May

#kny #demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer imagines #demon slayer fanfic #demon slayer headcanons #demon slayer smut #hashira #demon slayer fluff #mitsuri x iguro #mitsuri x you #mitsuri x obanai #kanroji mitsuri #kimetsu mitsuri #mitsuri x y/n #mitsuri x obanai x reader #mitsuri smut #obanai smut #obanai x reader #obanai x y/n #obanai x you #kny smut #kny mitsuri #kny obanai #kny fanfic #xxsabitoxx’s work!

[licorice-tea]

congrats on 100 followers! I just started reading your work because of ur prompt post and you do notttt disappoint!! soooo I want to request Zoro w lovers rock BUT SPECIFICALLY the end dialogue

“Now, how many men have you kissed?”

“Very few. “

“But you offered me a kiss. Why?”

“Such a foolish reason, I'm afraid. I just wanted to kiss you. “

- 🍙

Such A Foolish Reason

Pairing: Roronoa Zoro x reader

Content: reader is usually kind of a flirt and Zoro is unsure of how much they actually like him!

Word Count: 0.6k

A/N: another request from my 100 follower event! ty for the submission @🍙 and i hope you like it! <3

You had already determined that Zoro wasn’t going to make the first move, no matter how glaringly obvious you made your feelings for him. The man was simply out of his breadth, and too unsure of how to navigate this sort of emotional territory. That didn’t through you off though; you still want him more and more every day. So eventually you had taken it upon yourself to initiate the first kiss, since you could barely contain the depth of your feelings for him any longer. Every moment around the swordsman is like a game of “will they? won’t they?” at this point.

But no matter how badly you desire Zoro, you can’t just dive straight into him into a kiss the way you want to. He’s not the kind of person to do things without being sure, and neither are you. Even something as simple as kissing would require a straightforward request and, hopefully, he would agree to it.

Ever so hesitantly, you turn to Zoro one starry night at sea. His sharp jawline is turned away from you, and his eyes are trained on the waves down below. You hate that he’s so concentrated on the ocean when you’re sitting right there, shoulder to shoulder with him. Because tonight, all you want is to be the focus of that intense stare.

“Zoro”, you whisper, and he responds with a grunt, “I have to ask you something.”

Finally, he turns to face you. His irises sweep across your starlit features, then come back to meet your own eyes. From the way your pupils are blown wider than usual and your soft, glossed bottom lip is being bitten under the top, he gathers that you’re nervous. It’s strange, for someone of your confidence and boldness. “Yeah?”

“Can I kiss you?”

A furious blush ignites and burns across his cheeks in a matter of seconds. And though he’s unsure of how to respond in words, Zoro can at least nod.

Your palm finds its way over his jaw as you tilt his face so that it will align with yours. His skin is softer than expected; so soft that you give into the temptation to simply run your thumb across his cheek. It’s warm, which isn’t surprising given how pink he’s turned.

Zoro expects that you must have done this a thousand times to be able to touch him with such great care. To make him feel so strongly that his mind is scattered and he can barely get his thoughts in order. He’s engrossed in the feeling of you.

From your point of view, Zoro has simply gone quiet again. But you can feel the furious beat of his heart through his neck’s pulse-

“How many men have you kissed?” One of the thoughts manage to tactlessly slip out.

You immediately stop and hesitantly pull back “Very few.” Though your reputation as a heartbreaker precedes you, you rarely find yourself falling hard enough to do much of anything with the men you flirt with. Most of the time, it’s only to get things out of them; directions, supplies, etcetera.

This surprises Zoro. “But… You offered me a kiss. Why?”

The corners of your mouth curl upwards as you smile bashfully. “It’s a foolish reason, I’m afraid. I just…” You trail off with a shrug, and Zoro leans in- hooked on your every word. “Wanted to kiss you.”

And so, you do.

#fanfic #one piece x reader #one piece #one piece x you #x reader #zoro x reader #zoro x y/n #zoro x you #zoro fanfiction #zoro fluff #roronoa zoro #zoro drabble #drabble

[glorystark]

His Saviour | Part 1

Steve Rogers x Reader

Summary: You disobey one of Steve's orders in a mission but you don't think about the consequences...

Warnings: (TRIGGER WARNING!) mentions of self harm and suicide, mentions of killing and torturing, pure Angst no happy ending, mentions of injures, dark!Steve Rogers, swearing, minor spoilers of Black Widow, Steve being an asshole in general

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader

Featuring: The original 6

Disclaimer: please don't read this if you're not comfortable with any of the topics below or/and if they trigger you. This is just a fiction and it's never ok to act like this. I'm not romanticizing any of these topics and this behaviour!

You are sitting in the Quinjet, observing everyone who is injured in different ways. Natasha has been stabbed in her right thigh, Clint’s left ankle has been twisted, and Bruce, although not injured, appears exhausted due to a significant code green call, during which Nat almost lost him trying to retrieve him. Thor has a few scratches on his face. Everyone’s faces show bruising in different areas, and their bodies are still aching. But you, you have been injured the most. Your right wrist is broken, and you have been shot in your left leg, though the bullet wasn’t deep and didn't cause major damage; otherwise, you probably would have passed out by now. You still have trouble breathing, and your voice is sore because one of the HYDRA agents almost choked you to death. Your face is bruised, you can only open your right eye halfway, and your lips are swollen. The numbness has made it so you can barely feel any pain. When everyone saw you upon returning to the jet, they were extremely worried. You didn’t possess inhuman powers and weren't a super soldier, but you used to be a well-trained assassin and spy in the Red Room, closely partnered with Natasha Romanoff before joining S.H.I.E.L.D. So, it was surprising for the team to see you so battered, though they understood the mission was challenging.

Everyone needed a break upon returning to the tower. Initially, everyone thought it was a straightforward mission: infiltrate a high-security HYDRA base, get two flash drives containing vital and dangerous information, and exit. What no one knew was that it was a trap, with far more agents present than expected. Eventually, you managed to escape, but only securing one of the flash drives.

As everyone settled back in the jet, Bruce finished removing the bullet from your leg and bandaging Nat’s thigh. Thor bragged to Tony about his usual lack of injuries on missions, joking that he could have taken down all the HYDRA agents that day if he hadn’t been 'unlucky', which elicited laughter from Tony. Clint checked on Nat while she recounted a memory from Budapest. Meanwhile, you contemplated going home for a long shower until you noticed Steve, whose eyes were fixed on you with intensity. Confused, you assumed he was lost in thought, but you were wrong.

“How could you be so reckless?!" Steve's voice boomed through the jet as he stood up from his seat, his gaze piercing into yours. Everyone stopped what they were doing, surprised by his uncharacteristically loud tone, given his usually calm demeanor, even when upset. You looked at him, uncertain of what to say. You understood why he was angry; you had disobeyed an order. However, if not for your 'disobedience,' you wouldn't have acquired half the information you have now. To you, this seemed like Steve Rogers throwing a typical Captain America tantrum.

“Well, are you going to answer, or are you too stupid to respond to a simple question?" he growled, advancing toward your seat.

“I wasn't being-" you began to mutter, only to be interrupted by Steve.

“Speak up," he demanded, his voice cutting you off. You met his gaze, puzzled by his demeanor.

“I wasn't being reckless; I was being thoughtful. The-" you tried to explain, but Steve interrupted again.

"Thoughtful?! You call that thoughtful?! Really, Y/n? It's clear you don't understand the difference between stupidity and thoughtfulness.” he retorted.

“Will you stop interrupting me?" you interjected, your voice growing louder as you rose from your seat. You locked eyes with Steve, standing almost chest to chest in front of each other.

“I wouldn't have interrupted you if I knew any useful words were going to come out of your mouth," he countered, finally yelling, causing everyone but you to flinch.

“You have no right to yell at me like this, Steve.” you asserted, standing up for yourself.

"I have EVERY right to yell at you, you-" he began, but you cut him off this time.

"Why are you making it seem like I committed a crime? Yes, I agree it was wrong for me to enter that room alone, but I retrieved the flash drive we needed, didn't I?" you challenged.

“That is not the point right now. The point is, I'm your captain, and I gave a strict, direct order not to enter that room, and you disobeyed me.” he stated firmly.

That was all true. When you disobeyed his order, you knew he would be angry, but not to this extent.

You sprinted down the hallway, incapacitating every HYDRA agent in your path. You tried not to use your gun too often, knowing there would likely be guards in the room.

"Steve, I found the room," you said through your earpiece. You subdued the agent guarding the room where the flash drives were, and as the door swung open, more than twenty HYDRA agents stood before you, blocking your view of the drives on the computer table.

“Y/n, what did you just say? Get out of there now! Do you even know how many agents are in there?" Steve's urgent voice echoed in your ear.

“I do now," you replied, still facing the agents, who were also eyeing you cautiously.

"Y/n, this is an order. Get. Out. Of. There. Now.” Steve commanded, his tone almost a shout.

“Sorry, Steve, but people's lives depend on this.” you declared, charging toward the agents, disregarding Steve's pleas for you to retreat.

“Steve, I really don't understand what the big deal is. I got one of the drives, and yes, I went alone, but at least I obtained something that will help us.” you reasoned, taking a seat.

“Alright, y/n, I'm definitely sure now that you are deaf. You entered a room with so many HYDRA agents-" he began, only to be cut off by you.

“They were like 10 and they were really weak-" you defended.

“They were 27 trained assassins!” he corrected, making you widen your eyes.

"And do I need to remind you that your leg has been shot, and you can barely keep your eyes open, not to mention the rest of your injuries." he added mockingly.

“Okay, Steve, I get it, and I'm sorry for being reckless. Can we let this go now?" you pleaded, sitting down.

“Let this go?!" he started laughing, though his laugh lacked any humor. Everyone looked at Steve, unable to believe his behavior. They never expected him to speak to you this way, especially in front of the whole team.

You and Steve had been friends since meeting during the Battle of New York. You had a lot in common and quickly connected. A few months later, at one of Tony's parties, he kissed you, and the following day, he asked you out. It had been six months since then, and Steve treated you like a princess. He called you his savior because you helped him adjust to life after being thawed from the ice. He adored you. You had a few minor disagreements, but they were hardly fights, more like disagreements. You could never stay mad at each other, and now you couldn't believe the man who was laughing at you and humiliating you was the same person.

"Steve, I think that's enough," Nat finally intervened, her voice calm yet firm.

"Is it really? I think baby y/n hasn't learned her lesson yet.” Steve retorted sarcastically.

“Fuck you, Steve. You can't speak to me like that. I'm not a kid. If it wasn't for me, we wouldn't even have that one drive, and god knows how many people could have died. But you can't even realize that because I disobeyed ‘Captain America's orders,' and no one is allowed to disobey America's 'hero.' The only kid between us is you!” you shot back, your voice rising, though not as loud as Steve's had been.

“I'm a kid, y/n? Really? And what are you, a hero? Do you expect me to thank you now? Do you expect all of us to be on our knees thanking you?!" Steve challenged.

“That is not what I said!" you finally snapped.

The tension in the room escalated, and the team grew more uncomfortable by the second.

Steve smirked at your angered state.

“What's the matter, y/n? You seem a little bit defensive. I thought you liked being a hero. You know, because of the guilt, since you started killing and torturing people at the age of 8.”he said, still wearing the hurtful smirk on his face.

The whole team gasped, especially Natasha, whose story paralleled yours. You looked at Steve, unable to believe what he had just said.

“You seem shocked, Agent y/l/n. Oh, and Natasha, don't take this the wrong way. We all make mistakes in our life, but at least after we realize our mistakes, we try to make them up as soon as we can and not run away like a coward.” Steve continued, ignoring your reaction. You and Natasha widened your eyes, understanding what Steve was referring to."Steve..." Nat began, but Steve cut her off.

“I'm not done yet. Some of y'all look confused, well, let me explain it for you," Steve said, addressing the rest of the team.

"Steve, don't." you murmured, your voice weak now. You weren't even sure if anyone heard you, and you were right. No one heard you, but Steve who chose to ignore you.

“Our dear y/n y/l/n was a well-trained assassin back in the years with Natasha Romanoff in a place called the Red Room, which I'm sure you've heard about. Before even Natasha was out of there, Agent y/l/n found a way to leave the Red Room, a way to save every girl, from children to adults, who were mind-controlled into killing, and even worse. But do you know what she did instead?" he turned around the room, looking at everyone as if it was a show. No one said anything; they just kept looking between you and Steve. It was getting harder for you to focus on your breathing.

“Well, in case you haven't guessed yet, she just left everyone who could've been saved, even her best friend who is sitting right here with us.” he said, pointing at Nat.

“And even though she could've killed Dreykov, who was the leader by the way, with her genius plan, she didn't because she was a coward.” he said, emphasizing the word coward.

You've never felt so small and betrayed. You couldn’t believe he was using your awful past against you. When you confided in him, he comforted you, assuring you it wasn't your fault. That you’ve been through a lot and you took the only chance you had to save yourself. And now… now he was a different person.

“Cap that’s enough, it’s not our business what she did in the past. We all did something in some point that we aren’t proud of. She made up for that mistake many times now, since the battle of New York until today’s mission. I’m sure she still feels guilty and you’re just making it worse.” Tony looked at your trembling sight, standing up from his seat and walked towards Steve. The rest of the team nodding along, glad that Tony stood up for you because they were frozen themselves.

“Oh yeah Tony, you’re right I’m sure she feels guilty, don’t you y/l/n?” He looked at you as if you were a kid

Everything about him was hurting you right now. His voice tone that humiliated you in every way, his eyes that sent daggers to your way, his body that was intimidatingly towering yours, his smile which always made you happy and now it was only mocking you. Your throat is dry, your eyes are wet and you feel like your heart is going to come out of your chest in any second. You were hurt and unwell, and everyone could see that, everyone but Steve.

“Agent y/I/n do you feel guilty about your past?" He repeated his sarcastic question.

"I wouldn't worry about that too much since you have a good way to cope with your guilt right?" He continued.

You looked up at him frighteningly, understanding where he was going.

“Steve don't you dare." you whispered, finally being able to say something.

Everyone was confused since they had no idea what you both were talking about.

“you seem scared agent." Steve smirked at you sending shivers down your spine. It hurts so much more that he wasn't even using your name anymore, he felt like a stranger to you.

“SHUT UP!" you had never yelled so loud in your life, the whole jet shook. Everyone flinched but Steve. It seemed like he was waiting for this.

“Come on y/n are you that afraid of everyone knowing how you used to deal with your problems, or do you still do it?"

Everyone was quite once again, something in them wanted to know what Steve was talking about but they also didn't because of the way you reacted.

You looked at him not saying anything but your eyes were begging him to stop. You've never been in such a vulnerable position, especially considering everything you’ve been through.

“oh don't tell me you're gonna cut your wrists open again because you feel guilty you didn't get the second driver."

Everyone froze and widened their eyes, silence filling the jet. No one knew that you used to harm yourself until you started dating Steve, he was the first person to ever know. You felt so comfortable around him that you didn't want to have any untold secrets.

You thought about what if you guys break up but you convinced yourself that even if you guys separate your ways from each other at some point, you're definitely going to stay friends and he's never going to tell your secret to anyone because you believed he was a good man. You trusted him more than yourself and now he proved you all wrong.

You didn't cut anymore, because you found a way to save people. If it wasn't for Nick Fury, making you join the team you'd be long gone by now. But you didn't have a reason anymore, you were happy you had a new family and a new job, everything was perfect for you. Now you felt alone all over again and you didn't even blame Steve, you blamed yourself. You failed.

You started trembling more and started to see black spots. The team walked towards you to see if you were okay. Thor pushed Steve away, "Stay away from her," he warned, before walking to you. You heard Tony and Natasha yelling at Steve, Clint trying to calm them down but looking angry himself, Bruce and Thor asking you if you were alright, but you couldn’t hear anything anymore. It was so loud, but you only heard annoying mumbles. You let out a sob before passing out in the strong arms of the god, the last thing you saw being Steve's worried eyes…

A/N: This was my first (published) fan fiction. I apologise for any writing and/or grammar mistakes considering that English isn’t my first language. Feel free to correct me! If you enjoyed this, please let me know and let me know if you want to be tagged in the upcoming posts! (This fic will make a twist;))

#steve x reader #steve rogers x reader #dark steve rogers #dark steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #the avengers #avengers x reader #steve rogers x y/n #tony stark #bruce banner #natasha romanoff #thor #clint barton #black widow #steve rogers angst #captain america #mcu #marvel #marvel mcu #red room #dark!steve rogers #dark!steve x reader #steve rogers and reader #angst #steve Rogers x Reader Angst #x reader #reader insert #marvel steve rogers #mcu steve rogers #steve rogers fanfiction

[rubra-wav]

Snap (part 2) - Honesty

Snap (Part 1) - Deception

A/N: Listen man, I wish I could just say that Vox would just accept 'I love you' with his secret situationship he's terrified of losing and just say it back, fluff instantly ensuing, but we all know that would not be accurate at all.

Ow.

Td;lr for this one for the people who don't wanna read the actual smut - reader who's in a secretly mutually requited situationship with him catches Vox looking at them through cameras and decides to 'punish' him for it. In the end, though, the reader ends up accidentally telling them they love him. This fic ensues. Also, flower symbolism <3

Cw: rating 18+ (there's no smut, but it's part 2 of smut, so yeah), Vox is insecure and delulu as hell, reference to staticmoth/toxic/abusive relationship stuff, angsty asf, ref to physical abuse, miscommunication, hella infuriating - we get there eventually though, gn reader

There was one unbending, unspoken rule between the two of you ; that even with how obviously attracted to one another you were, you would never attempt to push it further.

You had your life, and Vox had his. His image being the clearly most important thing to him that trumped whatever you two had.

Even if your attraction to one-another became far more than just physical, you'd never push it further than friends with benefits for fear of it being unrequited and ruining everything the two of you had.

'I love you.' Spoken hazily, without a second thought however, changed that completely.

It broke all of what your relationship was fundamentally built upon; that being hiding your true feelings beyond what was physical for one another.

'I love you', spoken in your bedroom, under the eyes of the wilting red flowers that had now exposed not one but two deceptions, ruined everything you had going.

Or at least, that's what it initially seemed like.

Vox felt his heart go crazy at the words you'd just spoken, him feeling even more over the moon then he already did that you weren't going to kick him to the curb.

But then his heart dropped again as he realised what must have been really happening.

His face burnt with anger as you said those words, him sitting up and pushing you off of him.

"Do not say that to me." He growled out, standing up and moving awkwardly with what had just transpired to go put his clothes back on to go leave.

He'd done this before, and he really thought that this would be different, that his feelings for you wouldn't be played with like his were constantly his in his situationship with Val.

But here you were, telling him you loved him after fucking him and only after fucking just like he did.

How long would it take for you to start starting undesireable fights with him for no reason?

How long would it also take for the security you provided to be ripped away from him?

How long would it take until you moved on to find someone else because he wasn't enough for you.

How long would it take before he's always option 2 whenever that other person you want isn't available? When he's always just the afterthought and nothing more.

Your eyes widened in shock, and a wave of pain and regret washed over you. You didn't see the real reason he was flipping out, just seeing the man you loved telling you not to express that to him. Just saw your worst fears being confirmed.

You didn't have the guts to pry further to find the true root with your own hurt, unable to take his response as anything but bitter rejection of your feelings.

Vox didn't see the way you crumpled, expression fucking ruined behind him as unshed tears made your eyes hazy. "Right.. sorry." You apologised quietly to receive no response but him letting out a sound that expressed clear disappointment as he left your room without another glance towards you.

As Vox reached for the door, though, now out of eyeshot of you, he hesitated for a second. Tears once again formed in his eyes for what's the umpteenth time tonight.

His hand hovered above the doorknob as he considered a different thought process. Maybe you were actually being serious. Maybe this was real.

He grit his teeth, shaking his head and taking the only light in the house with himself as he left with bitter pain in his chest. He would not allow himself to have another Val in his life.

The door shut behind him with a sound that weighed heavy on your shoulders as the house became completely and utterly silent.

You sat with your head between your knees on your bed, feeling a mixture of sadness and anger forming a truly disgusting concoction of emotions inside of you.

You'd discovered he'd been doing this greatly violating thing and had given him a second chance, only for him to walk out on you because you told him you loved him? Of fucking course. It wasn't even surprising at this point. It was Vox.

You shook your head as you laid down on your bed, looking at the ceiling as tears blurred your already shit vision in the darkness, your heart in a million pieces.

Just what had you been expecting exactly? It was clear that the only person he had eyes for was Valentino, even if the piece of shit was a horrible boyfriend through and through. You'd been there many a time after their fights for him only to come crawling right back to the fucker.

Of course, he'd walk out on his side piece telling them they loved him. Your strange situationship with one another was never going to ever be anything but second to his real love; an abusive asshole who didn't love him and only showed up again when he got bored of his other toys.

You blinked into the darkness as you tiredly leaned over to the light on your bedside table, feeling for it and flicking the switch.

It didn't come on as it clicked.

Of course he'd caused the damn lights to break.

You growled in annoyance, turning over onto your side and curling up in a ball.

You'd fallen for such a piece of shit and allowed all that was good with him to slip away in one stupid moment of peace with him after a hell of a lot of pent up anger towards him.

It was stupid, really, that you'd be so upset over what was so obviously going to happen from the get-go.

It still hurt, though. So fucking much.

-

The next week was hard, to say the very least. In the whole fiasco with punishing Vox, he'd fried your phone as well as your lights so you now didn't have one.

He usually supplied you with new ones when this happened, but obviously, no Vox around meant no new phone.

His lack of effort to attempt to contact you pissed you off frankly. You repeatedly attempted to try and speak with him in person, but you just kept getting told to leave by his staff.

Your relationship wasn't exactly public, and you were sure he'd blow up rather than go silent on you if you told them you were together to try to get him to come out of hiding from you like a little bitch, so you just let bygones be bygones for now.

The man child could come crawling back to you whenever he got sick of whatever (you expected at least) he had going on with Val again, you weren't going to let any of this bullshit slide though even if he came back on his knees beggin for forgiveness. (Something that would, of course, never happen. Vox didn't do apologies. Not real ones at least.)

You were frankly done as fuck with him and his constant unending string of bullshit he refused to take responsibility for.

Your anger just worsened the longer he was absent. You almost wanted the thought that he was done with you this time to be true, despite the stupid fucking part of you that wanted him to come back.

Under all this bullshit and masks he wore; he was so different. You wished you could just be with that part of him, the real parts he hesitated each time to show to you because it was imperfect and a fucking mess. But of course, that would never happen. It was truly a fantasy.

After 6 days of nothing, the first sign of him showed up finally. A letter to your house saying he wanted to see you to 'talk'.

-

Vox knew damn well he was being completely unfair to you doing this, but he couldn't bring himself to back down and apologise.

He didn't make mistakes.

At least, that's how he liked to act. He'd rather hang onto his bullshit knowing full well it's bullshit until the end of time than ever admit fault.

After the incident, he'd spiralled completely. Privately having an angry breakdown about it, humiliated that he'd let himself fall into yet another Valentino situation.

It was easier to just take it out on you than actually hold himself responsible for shit and do the disgusting, pathetic practice of crawling back to you and apologising.

So even though he knew damn well that either way he was in the wrong, just expecting you had turned out to be another mistake along his path of failed lovers, he went silent on you rather then actually communicating at all. Naturally.

It probably looked to you like he'd run off, not giving a single shit anymore, but that was far as it gets from the truth. It was eating away at him. The rare feeling of genuine regret and guilt for his actions shocked him, and it only grew with each passing day.

He couldn't just let things end like this, he needed some... one last interaction with you before not seeing you again. As much as he had genuine feelings for you, he would not allow what he thought was going on to progress any farther.

As he lay in bed on his back, looking up at his ceiling he heart ached as that stupid goddamn thought entered it again. The idiotic idea that you could be actually telling the truth. He hated how it entered his mind and he had to again and again shoot it down to not fucking kid himself.

You didn't actually love him.

Never in a million years would he actually fall in love with someone and have them feel the exact same.

... right?

He pressed his hands over his eyes as his mandatory 'sleep' mode began to shut him off for the night. Tomorrow he would see you for the last time. Shut down what was happening before it began.

What he thought was happening between the two of you.

-

You almost didn't want to go and actually see him, funnily enough. You'd been trying desperately to go and talk to him for the past week, and it would feel pretty good to know he got stood up.

Not that it was really much of a place to be stood up.

For some reason Vox had told you to meet up with him in a secluded grassy field fairly in the middle of nowhere. To talk without any risk at all of people hearing, you guessed.

Still, it was weird. This was the type of shit murderers did, not your ultra-rich situationship. Whatever.

You forced yourself to keep walking up the hill despite really not wanting to see him. He was standing at the top facing away from you with his hands in his pockets, his face casting blue light down over the immediate grass before him.

As your crunching footsteps echoed out in the mostly silent clearing, he turned around to look down at you.

For agonising seconds, you two just stood there silently, staring at one another. The sound of distant insects, and the slight breeze passing through the leaves of outstretched tree branches the only sound.

He looked perfect as always, but his expression was unsure, hesitant as he looked at you.

Your heart truly fucking ached terribly, and you hated it. You fought the angry tears that you know would start spilling the probably second you heard his voice.

"What is it then." Your voice was quiet, but your words hung as heavy on his shoulders as it could get.

Vox gulped, clearing the lump in his throat, and slipped on a brave face. "I just wanted to see you one last time. I figured it would be shitty of me to.. break up? Over text." He said casually despite the agonising pit that felt like it was consuming him.

You grit your teeth, emotions swelling and bubbling out in a short, humourless bark of laughter. "So that's how it is, huh?" Your voice was thick with the constricting string of strong emotions bubbling up in your chest. You were pissed, the fact he called you out here just to 'break up' with you face to face was an asshole move even for him, sad that you were being told this bullshit, but also just fucking confused under all of that.

Vox would have just left and rode off into the hills and never would do this if he didn't actually give a fuck, so what the hell was happening?

Vox cringed hearing your tone, expression faltering for just a moment before slipping back on. "... yes?" He said it to sound concise, but it came out a question. He cringed inwardly.

You squinted at him, unshed tears making his bright face in comparison to the night all the more blurry with vectors of light messing with you.

His expression was unsure as could be, he wasn't looking you in the eye, and he was fidgeting with his hands. It's like he was expecting something from you. Something bad?

You briefly thought about how you'd seen him acting when he'd come to you after Val had hurt him and broken his screen after he'd gotten snippy with him.

That's when two things hit you like the worlds biggest truck. Why you were so fucking confused and had some nagging thought eating at you that you couldn't properly grasp up until now.

The first; He fucking clearly had feelings for you as well.

The second; He was expecting you to physically lash out at him. Anticipating some sort of Val level breakdown over you.

What the fuck was happening right now?

He would not have come out here if he didn't care at all, and certain times you thought he may have even felt possibly the same way you had.

So why in the fucking world had he stormed out of your house when you told him you had feelings for him as well?

Vox watched your progression of emotions as you didn't respond for a while with confusion, heart beating quick as his tenseness anticipating some massive blow up from you slowly eased off. Your next question caught him all the more off guard.

"Why did you call me out here to talk face to face to break things off?" You asked, brow furrowed and your expression equally confused, trying to read his intentions. You continued, blinking hard to try to clear your wet eyes so you could actually clearly see. One rolled down your cheek in the process, and Vox looked even more startled by it than the question.

"If you don't love me too, even a little bit, then why would you call me out here to break up with me face to face." You demanded an answer more than asked a question, expression hard.

He looked stunned at you, not believing what he was hearing, sputtering before letting out a strangled response. ".. No, you don't." He said.

You arched a brow at him in confusion. "Wha-" he cut you off.

"You don't love me! That was just some bullshit to play with my emotions after we fucked!" Suddenly Vox was angry as all hell, jumping to another assumption as he walked closer to you, towering over you and furious, the sound of electricity crackling loudly as his system begun to get overwhelmed quickly.

"And no-ow you're trying to convince me to not fucking leave!" Vox turned to side, laughing humorlessly and pressing his palm to his head. "God, I was right. You're just like h-i-im!" His words glitched with his overwhelming anger as he looked to the side at you.

You looked at him as everything fell into place, and suddenly, you were also furious. "Oh for fuck sake, Vox!" You yelled, stepping back. "Has all this shit happened because this whole time, all you've been thinking about is Val?" Angry tears welled up in your eyes, and you gripped his face, forcing him to look you straight in the eye as you spoke.

"I am not lying you insecure dumbass!" Vox's anger faltered as he watched your genuinely furious expression, a mess of tears and painful emotions. Not wanting to back down, however, he went to bite back some vile retort that never made it from his lips as you interrupted him.

"I said I love you then because I actually am in love with you! And I have been for ages at this goddamn point!" You let go off his face as his expression flickers to unsureness.

You press your hands into either side of your head as you look to the ground. "I fucking see you walk back to that asshole time and time again and my heart breaks each time because I actually love you and would treat you right like he doesn't!" Your voice cracks as you yell at him.

You don't see him begin flushing darkly and startled, now sparking in an entirely different way, extremely taken aback as he finally began actually listening to the sound of anything but his own voice.

"If you had just communicated like an adult instead of running off like an immature child, none of this would have happened. Do you understand that? Or are you too busy projecting your unresolved bullshit onto me to see that?" You look him in the eye again, your fury fading into severe emotional exhaustion after the past week.

"I hate that I love someone like you." You growled out through clenched teeth before turning away from the man who was stunned into utter silence outside of the occasional zapping sound, and began to walk away, shoulders hunched and fists clenched as you trembled.

Vox stood in place, staring dumbly at your back as you walked away feeling a nauseating pit of guilt eating him alive. He had no idea what the hell to do.

If anyone else had spoken to him that way he'd be utterly furious, compensating for all hurt going on within him, but even he couldn't project that shit onto you after what was so clearly true was spat at him. The extremely ugly truth of this whole situation.

He'd fucked up so goddamn bad, so bad he couldn't even lie to himself on that like usual.

His heart constricted painfully in his chest as he replayed your words again and again in his mind. 'I hate that I love someone like you.'

His mouth opened and shut as he fought to try find his voice again as he began crying, your silhouette making it hurt all the more the further you got away from him.

I hate that I love someone like you.

I hate that I love someone like you.

It stung like hell. Rightfully.

Someone he could have a genuine relationship with. Not some one-sided bullshit. Not some toxic requited relationship with someone who'd act as a doormat to his behaviour. You were slipping through his fingers with every second further he hesitated.

He forced himself to go after you despite how frozen he was, thoughts running a dizzying mess in his mind.

You turned back to him with an expression that was a conflicting mixture of relief and irritation that he was jogging after you.

The next words felt like agony for him to say, but despite his ego he forced himself. You had begun to do what no one could - actually started to change him. The thought filled him with a mixture of fear, but also sent warmth flooding through his chest.

"I'm sorry." He said as he caught your hand in his. "I'm sorry I-I..." he trailed off, words catching in his throat as embarrassment clearly burned in his expression.

He forced his red eyes to look into your surprised tired ones though, gulping. It caused his glitching to only worsen, but he kept his eyes on yours anyways.

"I'm sorry that I did-n-n't just talk to you. I sh-should have just. I shouldn't have assumed shit. You aren't Val, it's just hard-" He stopped himself, correcting himself. "It doesn't matter. I shouldn't have done that. Yo-ou-ou-ou-" You took a deep breath through your nose and turned around to face him properly, waiting while he stopped glitching and showcasing a flashing error message enough to get another word out.

His monitor stopped cutting out after a few seconds with a particularly loud zap, red eyes once again looking into yours, a claw coming up to cup your cheek - the gesture causing your expression to once again crumple and start crying despite your smarter parts telling you to not. "You deserved - deserve better than that."

You truly hated that you loved this absolute dumbass. Of all people, why did it have to be the guy who looked like he had a stick being shoved painfully up his ass as he simply said the words 'I'm sorry' after creating this dumpster fire of a situation?

You sighed heavily, leaning into his hand while closing your eyes, it pleasantly cold on your cheek in comparison to your overly warm, puffy face.

Vox grit his teeth, utter humiliation permeating every bit of him.

He couldn't believe he'd ever said such a disgusting thing out loud.

But, the way you leaned into his touch with your eyes fluttering shut made it worth it.

The sound of the surrounding environment filled the air as the warm moment was allowed to sit in peace for a few seconds. Just quiet which washed over you very welcome after everything, and in contrast made Vox all the more antsy.

Vox interrupted everything with an awkward sound clearing his throat, smiling very tensely. "Please tell me I don't have to say sorry again." He half-jokingly (but really more seriously) said.

You slowly opened your eyes again, looking up at him through your lashes. "Mmm. I'm not sure if I quite believe you regret everything yet," you said as if thinking about it. "Maybe if you get down on your knees and grovel a bit, I'll consider it." You smirked teasingly.

Vox let out an irritated huff at the very obvious joking remark but figured it was better he didn't bite back with his usual attitude right now.

You chuckled, and gently gripped either side of his screen as you pulled his face close to yours, very serious now.

"I'll make this clear right now: I do not forgive you. All of this was ridiculous, and your bad actions, which you haven't yet actually acted to remedy, are stacking up. You understand that, right?" He grit his teeth, eyes looking away from you but still slowly nodding begrudgingly. You relaxed a bit, exhaling deeply. "Good." You said, slightly smiling at his pouting expression.

You stood on your tip toes, pressing a kiss on his screen where his cheek should have been. Vox looked back at you, smiling slightly.

"Come on, it's been a week, is that all I get?" He asked, immediately regretting it as you looked annoyed once again.

You shook your head, glaring at him. "Don't push it." You growled, before leaning in and kissing him much more deeply anyways.

Your love was going to be rocky for sure, but as staticky lips moved against yours passionately, you decided that you didn't mind. Whether that would come to be a stupid decision or not, would show itself further down the line. For now, you just wanted to stay in the present.

This part 2 was a long damn time coming goddamn.

I'm gonna be so fr, I was tempted to make this just be angst in the end because oof. But no, I was feeling nice. So you get somewhat actually healing his shitty maladaptive traits Vox.

I'm almost considering making more to this, but also God, there's so much more I'm working on as well 💀 I wish i had more time.

Masterlist

#vox #vox headcanons #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel vox #vox x reader #vox x reader fanfic #hazbin hotel x reader

[angel-of-the-moons]

A Rose Under the Moon

Moon Knight System (Marc/Steven/Jake) x Fem!Reader

CW/TW: None (sorta?), Mentions of phantom pains, loneliness

A/N: This is gonna be multi-fic. I'll probably be irregular with uploads, but I will try to update this when I can!

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Chapter 1:

The Scholar

Fate was a funny thing. Sometimes it could give you exactly what you wanted, other times… the exact opposite. 

The same was true for soulmates. Everybody had a different way of being marked. Some, from birth, others later. You’ve had yours since the moment you came out of your mother’s womb.

Right there, on the inside of your left wrist.

Three crescent moons, the slope of each resting on the others. Sometimes, one of the moons was full. It rotated almost like a clock. Sometimes one would stay full for days, other times merely one day or just a few hours. You weren’t sure why. You were positive it had something to do with your soulmate. 

Especially the random phantom pains and bruises on different spots of your body. You used to get them as a child, one minute you’d be playing on the playground and then it would feel like you’d been whipped with a belt, or hit with a stick. At first children services had been called because of your phantom bruising; until they observed one such situation where you were coloring a picture and a red mark suddenly made itself visible, along with the pain associated with it. That was when the doctor suggested those pains were indeed connected to whatever was happening to your soulmate.

What kind of torture were they going through? The thought constantly ate at you as you grew up.

The worst ones were when you were at the stove cooking one day and all of a sudden–wham!--you were doubled over in your kitchen, clutching your body as you felt like you were being impaled by an ice pick in different parts of your chest and midsection.

But every time you got those pains, there was a pulse from your marking. And then… nothing. You heard that some people got phantom pains from their soulmates, some could share a telepathic link… others could simply sense when they were in proximity. The connections all varied from mate to mate; as did the appearance of each mark.

Yours, was the crescent moons. Some had animal shapes, others had stars, sometimes even just initials of their destined partner’s names, or a type of compass pointing in their general direction. Others, you came to envy, had a timer. Like a digital stopwatch that would count down until the day they met. You really wish you had one of those. At least then you’d know...

Some lucky people found their soulmates fresh into adulthood, right out of high school. The even luckier ones happened upon theirs during childhood and stayed close.

Here you were, sitting at nearly 25, and hadn’t even felt a tickle that possibly told you your soulmate was nearby. Even when you hopped countries! You really envied your classmates who got married shortly after high school or fresh into college, right about now… 

You hoped and prayed to whoever would listen–anybody–that you would find them soon; not when you were old and gray and couldn’t run on the beach, climb a tree, or go do… something with such little precious time left over. You waited every day, on bated breath for when your soulmate would swoop in and save you from your boring, monotonous life.

Unless you were rejected. You’d never personally met anybody who had been rejected, but you have read in online forums from people who *have* been rejected, or personally knew someone who had been. Their existences sounded horrible. Gray, bleak… they weren’t truly living, just… existing. Like a robot running on default mode.

Some found love outside their soulmate bonds, and married and lived happily enough. Those were the ones who didn’t actively look for their soulmates, couldn’t find their soulmates… or their soulmates died before they met.

The pain felt from a sudden snap of your bond was supposed to be the most debilitating pain in your life, your soul feeling like half of it was shredded, stomped on, and then set on fire before being snuffed out entirely. It was supposedly easier to bear if you and your soulmate have never met.

Which is why, after you recovered that day in your kitchen, you frantically checked your mark to see if it was still there. Thankfully, it was. But you cursed your soulmate–whoever she, he, or they were–for doing whatever crazy shenanigans it was that they were doing to get hurt in such a way. 

But despite that… despite the waiting and the longing and the phantom pains; the aching feeling in your chest, you stopped checking your mark as religiously as you used to. Sometimes, you covered it entirely, a depressing melancholy feeling taking root in your stomach and growing until its branches reached your heart whenever you looked at it. It wasn’t entirely uncommon, the feelings you were harboring. The desperation for your other half, the need to feel completed–to feel whole–was felt by millions worldwide… maybe even farther than that. 

Some suggested therapy. It was a common enough occurrence that there was a specialization in the psychiatric field for soulmates who felt the depression and loneliness of not having their soul’s other half with them. 

Malattia dell'anima, the doctor-y name for it was. Soul Sickness; literally.

But you didn’t want to be doped up on medication that made you so numb to your feelings that you might not–on the small chance you would–be able to feel when you eventually met your soulmate.

If you ever did.

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You sighed as you leaned on the counter, scrolling through forums, social media posts, and memes on your phone. Your mark was covered with a braided bracelet you made on a whim four months ago. Sometimes… not looking at it made it easier to bear.

You were knocked out of your melancholic stupor when the bell to your little book shop dinged. 

You straightened your posture and gave the most polite smile you could. 

“Hi!” You said. “Welcome to Here Today Books!”

The man who entered, gave you a charming–but slightly sheepish–smile, his amber eyes lighting up from behind his dark-rimmed glasses. “Oh! Hello.” He replied, his accent that you’ve grown accustomed to since moving to London, and gave a small wave of his hand. He was dressed in a button up shirt with some kind of gray overcoat worn over it, and some faded jeans. His posture was slightly nervous, you felt. He must be an introvert.

“You looking for anything in particular?” You chirp, leaning on the checkout counter with your elbows. “We got history, mathematics, sci-fi… romance?”

The last part was accentuated by a hearty chuckle on your part with some accompanied eyebrow-waggling, earning what you could swear was a blush on the man’s cheeks. “Oh–uhm…” He said. “N-no romance, I’m ‘fraid. Uh…” 

You tilt your head at him. “Oh! Well, whatever you’re looking for I’m sure I have *something* on the subject.” You click your tongue as you look at the different shelves stacked high to the ceiling, a rolling ladder tucked in the far corner. “My shop has a “try before you buy” kinda policy. You can pick up a book and read it in one of the nooks near the front windows. I also have a complimentary tea, and coffee menu. The snacks are priced however, because I make ‘em fresh to order in the upstairs kitchen.” 

He seemed impressed that such a tiny shop had such a wide variety of options available in the cramped space. “You cook upstairs?” He asked curiously, tilting his head so one of his raven curls bounces over his forehead.

“Yes, I, uhm… kind of live in the flat upstairs. Easier than renting separately, y’know?” You chuckle awkwardly. “I figured offering snacks and drinks would help entice people in. If not to buy a book, but at least a muffin or crepe.” 

“So you also use your flat as a business space?”

“In a sense, I suppose I do.” You chuckled again, this time with a bit more confidence.

“Um… Forgive me if this is rude, but umm…” He shuffled on his feet, awkwardly looking to the side. “Are you American? It’s just that, with your accent and everything…”

You giggle softly. “It’s alright. I don’t mind. Yes, I’m from America.” 

“Oh! That’s interesting. How does someone from America come to own a little book shop in London of all places? Er, if you’re comfortable with answering that question, too, I mean, uh…” 

You smile at him, flashing your teeth a bit. “Nah, it’s a valid question. I inherited this shop from… get this… my great aunt. Real storybook, right? Totally pun-derful. An absolute tale.”

He shakes his head, laughing a little. “That certainly does seem like the opening plotline to a story, doesn’t it? Flying across the pond to inherit a property from an estranged relative you hardly knew…”

“...trying to keep the business thriving in a rapidly obsolete medium, the protagonist is crafty, plucky, but optimistic as they try to stay afloat by themselves, to keep their relative’s memory alive?” You finish for him, your smirk turning into a full-blown grin.

His laugh is a little bit louder now. “Exactly! You could write a novel!”

“Oh, but it would be so boring!” You sigh, dramatically laying over the counter space, arms hanging over the edge. “Just sitting here, day in, day out as I sell children’s books, crappy western romances, cheap “gourmet” coffee, and some slightly burned muffins? Just looking at cat pictures on the internet as the ceiling fan squeaks in ambience?”

“Oh, well, uh, when you put it that way…”

You giggle again. “I get some pretty decent business. I get the students from uni, some bookworms who refuse to retire the medium of actual books made of actual paper…”

“Oh, I know! I don’t get how people can read on their phones! The blue light is atrocious to stare at for too long! I love the feel of paper underneath my fingertips, the smell of the ink…” He sighs almost wistfully.

“Precisely!” You say animatedly, snapping your fingers. “Phones, laptops, and tablets just aren't the same, y’know? There will always be book enthusiasts. A book doesn’t run on batteries, a book won’t shatter if you drop it, or grip too hard… All you need is a good set of eyes or readers, some good light… and you’re set.”

“Oh, exactly! That’s exactly what I tell Marc when he lectures me about owning too many books! My collection “is a hazard” he tells me. Just because I have a few stacks lying ‘round doesn’t mean they’re gonna collapse on you and kill you!” He sighs, throwing his hands up exasperatedly. He clears his throat, and says awkwardly. “Marc is, uh… He’s my… brother. We… live together?”

“Well, tell your brother that he is a heathen. That books are an absolute treasure! You don’t have to pay some dumb subscription to access all the knowledge in that one book, just pick it up and flip a page!” You scoff, waving a hand. “Books–while yes, they can take up some space–are wonderful. And you can never own too many!”

The man laughs, nodding. “Precisely. Marc just likes to complain because he’s always bumbling into them! He’s more of a TV kinda bloke, you know?”

“Oh, yeah, I’ve met my fair share of those kinds of people.” You giggle. 

“Oh, uhm.” He fumbles with his satchel bag and holds out his hand. “My name’s Steven. Steven… Steven Grant. It’s nice to meet you, Miss..?” 

You chuckle and tell him your name. 

“It’s nice to meet you Steven, Steven, Steven Grant!” You joke, earning another laugh as you shake his hand.

“Now,” You started. “What are you looking for today?” 

“Oh! Do you have any books on, uhm. Egypt? Ancient Egypt? Archaeology, mythology, things of that like…”

“Actually, I think we do. I keep those kinds of subjects close to the History section.” You step down from your stool, waving a hand for him to follow you as you lead him through the small labyrinth of bookshelves (some almost barely too small for more than one person).

You reach the shelves that contain the books and volumes on said subject. Some even leatherbound. You really should check inventory more often… You had more books on the subject than you thought. But then again, they may have also been left over from your great aunt’s stock. She loved reading on this sort of stuff. You remembered the few times she would read to you fables from some of these books. Strange, you could just barely recall one, now, actually… You shrug the twinge of childhood nostalgia off.

“Looks like I have more than I…” Your voice falls silent when you turn around and see Steven’s eyes already scanning each shelf–all the way to the ceiling–looking almost like a kid in a candy shop. You chuckle and it snaps him out of his trance.

“Uhm, oh. Yes! This is… er. Good! Great! I mean…” He rubbed the back of his neck slightly. “What I mean to say is that you have a very interesting selection of books!”

“Ha… Go ham on ‘em. Just don’t mind the dust… These books don’t get looked at too often. Rolling ladder is available for the higher shelves you can’t reach. Reading nooks are up front, and just let me know if you want any refreshments or snacks, or if you want to buy anything. I’ll either be up front, upstairs, or in back… Just press the buzzer on the counter if I’m not at the register.” You say, jabbing your thumb in the vague direction you came from. “And if you get lost in my little maze here…”

You click your tongue. “I should start offering some twine, huh?”

“Because I’m Theseus on his way out of the Minotaur’s Labyrinth?” Steven grinned at you, his eyes twinkling.

“More like I don’t wanna find your mummified remains tucked in between one of these shelves, eh?” You say, grinning at your pun.

Steven shook his head, his curls bouncing as he does so. “Oh, I doubt Marc or Jake would let me stay here that long.”

You pat his shoulder and squeak by him, leaving him alone to peruse your selection.

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Steven stayed in the back for nearly an hour. And when he came back he sat down right at the front nook, ordering a blueberry-cinnamon muffin with some Earl Grey tea sweetened with honey, no sugar. You mad a joke about having some Egyptian licorice tea somewhere, to which he started on a little infomercial type rant about how the Pharaohs used to drink it all the time back during the ancient days…

After about four hours (and three more muffins) he stepped up to your counter with all of his books in hand, a happy grin on his face. For sure, you thought, if this man had a tail, it’d be wagging like mad!

“I would ask if you found everything okay, but…” You eyed the stack of books. “...It looks like you kinda did!”

He rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah, ah… I got a little absorbed so I decided to take ‘em all…”

“Well, there is no return policy, but there is a trade-in policy. You can either get store credit or physical notes. Have to keep in business somehow right?” You shrug awkwardly.

“Ha ha… Yes, I understand. How much for all of them?” Steven beams, his attention was grabbed though, a moment later to the tiny pencil cup labeled "bookmarks". He plucked one out, and it was a pressed rose; the edges of the petals painted gold and vacuum-sealed with a colorful piece of paper within. 

“Like those, huh?” You smile.

“O-oh yes… very much. It’s beautiful.” He said softly.

“Each mark is fifty-pence.” You say politely.

Steven smiled and placed the bookmark on the top of his book stack.

You ring up the books, and he happily pays for them with a wad of notes (also covering the muffins he scarfed down). 

“I have a bag you can take, if you like. Canvas. I wouldn’t feel right if you had to lug all of those home!” You chuckle.

“Oh, it’s alright!” Steven grins, hoisting the books into his arms like they’re nothing after tucking his new bookmark within the safety of one of the heavier books.

He either works out a lot, or the man has simply done this so many times with so many different books he no longer feels the weight of them.

“I live close by, my flat is just down the block.”

“Oh! So I guess I can expect to hear from you more, huh?” You smile, holding the door open for him as he awkwardly waddles out of your shop.

“I certainly hope so!” He grins at you, giving you a curt nod as he walks down the misty London sidewalk.

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Later that night, after you had closed up shop, counted your earnings and stored them in the safe; you went upstairs to unwind for the day. You make a quick dinner, eat, and then shower.

While showering, you notice a different moon on your mark is full. This morning it was the bottom right one. Now, it’s the top one. It wasn’t uncommon for your mark to go outside its usual clockwise rotation, so you shrugged it off, grabbing a towel as you step out of the stall. 

Once you laid in bed, putting on something from one of your streaming services (like, come on, who even uses cable anymore, right?), you propped your cheek in your hand; your elbow supporting you as you stared almost blankly at the screen.

You didn’t think much of anything that night. Even the socially awkward bookworm who had walked into your store today looking into the selection of books you had that rarely anyone ever touched.

Or at least you didn’t think much of anything. Until you felt like you were being run through with a red-hot poker straight into your abdomen. These weren’t menstrual or ovulatory cramps, those were in a different spot. These pains were around your stomach, just under the last few bones of your ribcage. 

This was pain caused by your mark.

Your soulmate was hurt again.

You curled on your side, gasping for air while you waited for the phantom sensation to pass. Once it did, you spread out on your blankets, wiping the sweat from your brow.

“What the hell did you get yourself into now, you reckless dummy?” You ask the dead air of your bedroom.

Chapter 2: Link

#moon knight #marc spector x reader #jake lockley x reader #steven grant x reader #steven grant #marc spector #jake lockley #moon knight mcu #moon knight x reader #soulmate au #my writing

[here2bbtstrash]

as promised, here it is: The Big Life Update Post (aka m where the hell have u been and what the hell is going on with this blog)

TLDR: went thru it, came out better for it, i love y'all. and we're getting back into this writing thing as i have the time and capacity 🥳

2023 has been a bit of a whirlwind, to put it very mildly. while the first three months started off relatively smoothly, my saturn return began in the middle of march. only a few short weeks after that... well, i'd basically say everything went off the fucking rails.

content warning: drama talk incoming ft. extremely brief mentions of racism and racist hate mail (no specific details shared).

i haven't spoken on this yet since everything happened, and i want to be explicitly clear that i won't be speaking on it further after this post. but i just want you to understand where i've been at since april.

i will own it entirely and say: i fucked up. i put content in a story that i shouldn't have, that i had no business speaking on, and i think people were well within their right to call me out on it, one hundred percent. however, after i went offline at the end of april, my friends ended up learning that the person who initially stirred up all of the "tea", and submitted the first several anonymous posts about me to a hate blog, was actually someone i knew well and considered a friend.

this was someone whose stories i gladly beta'd, someone i consoled through multiple hard moments in their life, someone i actually even met in person. yep. this was also someone who had read the chapter of my story that featured the problematic content when it was released, and proceeded to send me paragraphs upon paragraphs of how much they enjoyed it, and the story as a whole. this is not to say that people can't change their minds on content after sitting with it, not at all. but to think that i had been through so much with this person, done so much to be there for them, and that they never once gave me any reason to think we were anything other than close friends. yet ultimately, they didn't feel they could come directly to me... or find quite literally any other way of dealing with the issue?

instead, they chose to send multiple messages about me to a hate blog, as well as hateful anons to several of my friends, thinking that we wouldn't know it was them (we did). not only that, but their actions encouraged an actual torrent of racist hate mail to be sent to all of my non-white friends who publicly chose to support me. ultimately, they ended up admitting all of this, and still, they never once apologized or showed even a single iota of remorsefulness or responsibility for the onslaught of vitriol they incited. (even though, you know, this whole thing was supposedly about how racism is bad.)

and this user is still on the platform, operating under a new blog name and pseudonym. so. that's fun. 💀

i don't say this to beat a dead horse, or to drum up sympathy, because i promise i don't want it. it's been long enough, i understand the mistakes i made, and i've done my part to take accountability for my actions. but i needed to start this post here to have you all understand where i was at the end of april - just in time for yoongi's tour 🤪 - in many ways, i felt like i had no friends, at least none that i could really trust. i felt unsure who might have been acting one way to my face, perhaps even praising me, but talking different about me behind my back. and it was beyond fucking nervewracking to think that i would be meeting so many friends IRL for the first time, quite literally days after what essentially felt like a public execution.

i wasn't doing well, to say the least.

and then... the funniest thing happened.

y'all showed the fuck up for me. in droves. in a way that i have quite literally never experienced in my lifetime and doubt i ever will again. even recounting it now is lowkey giving me chills. i received, literally, yes i counted, hundreds of DMs from the most incredibly kind people- on tumblr, on twitter, on discord, in AO3 comments. the vast majority of you wrote paragraphs: about what my stories have meant to you, about how you found my blog to be a safe space in the noise of the world, about how much you'd enjoyed our time together here. so many of you said something along the lines of "even if you never come back here again, please keep writing". honestly, for like a week straight all i could do was read my DMs and cry and cry and cry.

i didn't receive a single hateful DM. not one.

as if that alone isn't more blessings than i deserve in an entire lifetime, i also, you know. saw five shows of agust d on tour. (my credit card is still recovering.) spent two of the best nights of my life in pit getting a water bottle baptism and screaming myself hoarse. and met dozens of incredible moots, who held me when i cried, scream-laughed with me, and of course, drank plenty of booze with me.

at a time where i wondered to myself if i even had a single true friend in this fandom (or, like, in the world), you all showed me that i had so much more. that we had so much more-- we had a community. and i believe we still do. and i am more than ready to block out all the shit that doesn't matter and get back to having some fun around here.

in short: thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you. if you sent me a sweet word, i promise you, i read it (and probably cried lmao). i wouldn't be doing any of this without you. i will never ever deserve all the love that you have shown me. but for as long as you'll have me, i'd love to have a fun stupid horny time in this little corner of the internet. as a part of our community. what a fucking gift it is. 🫶

phew. okay, so- that was april and may. it's november. what the fuck happened?

i knew i wanted to properly take time to get my head on straight before i found my way back to writing. what i wasn't expecting was to 1. fall in love, 2. get a new job, and 3. move myself and my cat approximately 800 miles across the country... but yeah, since the end of may, those 3 things are exactly what i've been doing!

i won't talk too much about my partner here, because our relationship is important enough to me that i want to keep it largely private, but my god. he is the most incredible human. i can't tell you how much of what i wrote out as silly little daydreams in my fanfiction has somehow manifested itself into this very real human being (like, it's kinda crazy lmao 🙈). i'm grateful for him every single day. and what makes it even more special is that we met for the first time in person while i was traveling for yoongi's tour - yep! he saw me going through so much upheaval, and fell for me all the same. just another thing i will never fully believe i deserve. but goddamn do i feel luckyyyyy 🥰

and in addition to my amazing partner (and in part because of him but honestly i had plans to move before i had even met this man it just happened to work out okay 🙄) i have also finally managed to do what i've been planning for the last year and a half, which is move my ass out of the southern suburbs where i'd been for nearly a decade, and to a ✨walkable city that actually has public transit✨ - what a fucking dream. i may have only been here 8 days, and i may not have much more to my name than my cat, my TV, and my mattress, but i swear to god, i've never been this happy in my entire life.

so yeah. exhale. like i said, it's been quite the year.

now i do want to end this with a small caveat, which is to say, i can't make a promise as to how much i can *be* here (particularly not compared to how terminally online i used to be lmao). i spent a lot of time online because i was unhappy and feeling very stuck with where i was in life, and i needed escapism, bad. now, i've finally gotten to a place where i'm excited to go out of my house and do things, but i still want to make intentional time for tumblr as a form of connection and community, and writing as a form of creative expression. these things are really important to me!!! i just ask that you give me some grace if i'm a little slow on the uptake. i promise i'm still here 🥰

and writing is gonna happen!!! i can't say much more than that, because tbh i haven't so much as opened a google doc since april, but i've been itching to get back to it. maybe.... we might start off....... with some........... drabble requests??? 👀 we'll see we'll see we'll see hehe.

in any case, i think that's more than enough for now 🤪 oh how i've missed babbling to you all, the gay people in my phone. i hope you're well, and if ya feel so inclined, i'd love it if you'd send me a comment or a DM on what you've been up to in the many months it's been since we've spoke! what's new in your life? what are we manifesting??

talk so so soon, eeeeee~ i'm so happy to be back~ love you babes!!! 🤍

#mposting #quite literally the longest mpost of all time #if you read the whole thing i LOVE YOU #if you don't i understand lmao i too have adhd

[obetrolncocktails]

Make Me Your Master | Josh Kiszka X Reader

Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI semi-public sex, oral sex (f. Receiving), Male Sub, Fem. Dom, guided masturbation, dirty talk, graphic descriptions of sex, face sitting, pet names, orgasm denial. JOSH SUB. CHAIN HARNESS. Josh titty sucking :)

Word Count: 4.5K

A/N: Whew! It's been a while! This was super fun to write! I wanted this dynamic to seem real, and less like a typically overworked sub/dom relationship. I feel like Josh would express his submission most in his worship of his partner, doing whatever he needs to to please them.

Summary: Damn, damn damn his stylists to hell! Who in their right mind would dress Josh in a harness, let alone one made of chains. Hell, they barely dressed him at all. You couldn't take it. You had to do something about it. Now.

You felt like an exaggerated cartoon character staring at him like you were–like if you dared to look for much longer, everyone would see the drool slipping out from between your lips and down your chin. Coming back to your senses, you cleared your throat and straightened your stance, choosing to lean against the nearest wall as the band’s stylists worked on Josh’s newest outfit for their upcoming music video. They pulled on the already-taut chains that contoured his chest and back so beautifully, adjusting them even tighter so that they would sit securely against his skin. From where you stood, you could see the metal pushing into the softness of his chest, creating noticeable divots. The sight shot blood pumping through your lower body. As a result, heat exploded up your neck and into your cheeks. 

“Are you listening?” You heard someone say distantly, but the words didn’t instantly make sense to you. “Y/n. Babe. Hey.” It was Josh who spoke, stepping forward toward you. 

“Sorry, I just zoned out for a second,” you muttered while running your fingers through your hair, trying your best to casually play it off. 

“What do you think?” He asked, pulling his fingers up to his body, touching the chains and crystals that adorned his chest. “This shit is so tight.” He looked up at you waiting for your opinion. Fuck-It’s not tight enough, you thought. But I know how to fix that. “Is it too much?” He asked, turning to look in the closest mirror. Josh, you’re barely dressed, it’s not enough…you wanted to laugh. Your words were unusually sparse. “Yeah I think it’s too much,” he said, but you snapped out of your stupor to grab him back by his wrist. 

“No!” You said way too loudly. The stylists glanced up at you as they packed away their items. “I mean, it looks great on you,” you admitted, pulling him against you by his bare waist. You bit at your lip, grinning at him, hoping to God he’d read the room properly. “Possibly too good,” you added in a sultry tone, your fingers dancing upon the chains and gems that dangled just above his nipples. You let your gaze drop to your fingers, then raised it very slowly again, catching Josh watching your lips, his face relaxing, but his eyebrows raising with interest. He cleared his throat, looking around the room at the stylists and then back at you. Luckily, Danny had walked in before anything else had to be said. 

“Josh,” Danielle said, raising her chin as she addressed him. “We’re gonna work on Danny for a few minutes. We’ll call you to make final adjustments and then you can go home,” she said. “But don’t run too far away.” You silently slid your hand off of his chest and down to his hand, squeezing it firmly while she spoke. He squeezed your hand back in response, turning his chin just slightly to acknowledge that he understood your silent demand.

“I won’t, I promise,” he said, stepping closer to exit, but you took initiative and practically yanked him out of the dressing room, smiling at the stylists while they grinned back at you, knowing exactly what they had done to you. 

“They know,” Josh said as you pulled him into the hallway. 

“I don’t care,” you snipped, reaching up to his chest to loop your fingers craftily through the chains of his harness, pulling him in for a needy and lustful kiss. He reciprocated instantly, his hands resting softly on your hips as you took charge of what you wanted. 

“Not in the hallway,” He said, evading your lips momentarily to look further down the hall, watching as crew members drifted between rooms. You let him lead you to a new room, his fingers pawing at every doorknob, cursing when they were locked. He pulled another and it opened, the first successful attempt for privacy. Your eyes flitted behind you for a final moment before slipping into the room. Four walls enclosed around you, tighter than you had expected. As you flipped on the light, you realized that it was one of the stylist’s offices. 

“Fuck–” you cursed, reading name plaque on the desk. Jennifer Margera. “Well, Mrs. Margera, I’m so sorry.” You mumbled, turning to lock the door before pushing a layer of papers off of the table top. You turned Josh’s body so that he could sit on the edge of the desk. 

“Are you though?” Josh asked, getting comfortable in his assigned spot, a swath of flowy, cream-colored silk cloaked his scantily-clad body. You pulled at the softness of the fabric, using the tips of your fingers to delicately remove it. 

“Not in the slightest,” You admitted while you worked. “Arms up,” You commanded, tapping his bicep. He appeased you, lifting his arms above his head. Your eyes fell to the masculine crop of hair that grew under his arms, arousal growing between your legs. Josh had always turned you on. He could do it without uttering a single word, and the worst part was that he knew it. He could be masculine and dominant at times, telling you exactly what he wanted and showing you how he would get it–but at other times, his uniquely-feminine qualities would appear in the most intimate moments, the gentle curves of his body pairing with the strength of his muscles. The most sexually satisfying moments for you were ones when he would helplessly bend to your will, so desperate for your attention and touch that he’d do whatever he had to do to get it. 

“You like what they put me in, don’t you Mama?” He asked, the corners of his lips curling slightly upward. Normally you’d roll your eyes at his use of the nickname, but in the moment, you took it as a signal of submission. 

“You look incredible,” you said, tossing the material to the floor. Stepping in between his legs, your fingertips grazed slowly down his bare midriff. You lowered your eyes to watch his skin erupt all over with goosebumps. “What is it, Josh?” You asked, adding a sensuous quality to your voice. You lowered yourself slowly into a squat, placing your hands on his thighs. “What’s on your mind, baby?” you asked him. 

“My cock,” he said frankly, grinning. He’s proud of himself. 

“Isn’t that unfortunate,” You said, standing up and backing away. “Guess you’ll have to fix that yourself.”

“Y/n come on,” he said, standing up off of the desk. You charged forward. 

“Don’t you dare.” You took him into your grasp by his chains once again, pulling your face just in front of his, your lips hovering just above his. “You want me to fix it? You do what I say, when I say it. Do you understand?” You asked, looking at him intently. “I said,” You repeated once more, reaching your free hand down to firmly grip his cock. “Do you understand me?” 

He nodded enthusiastically. “Yes.” He said, his voice strained. 

“Yes, what?” You asked, skillfully using your thumb to rub along what you could feel of his shaft. 

“Y-Yes ma’am,” he said finally. You released your grip once you were satisfied. 

“Sit back down, I want to look at you.” He moved wordlessly to his previous position, sitting on the edge of the desk. “Now…” You said, stepping forward, your eyes skimming over his body. “Let me help move things along.” You reached for the waistband of the flowy white pants they had dressed him in, peeling them from his body, grateful when they slipped off into a pile on the floor. “Now aren’t these pretty,” you said, pulling at his silken underwear. “Pretty little panties,” you added, gleefully watching crimson flush wash upon his neck and into his face. You let them roll down his thighs and off of his legs, dropping them to the floor. 

“Touch yourself for me, baby boy,” you told him. “You look so pretty.” 

“T- touch myself?” He asked, his eyebrows raising. You weren’t so sure why he was suddenly so tentative. Maybe because you were giving him the direct order. 

“Need something to look at, honey?” You asked, offering a syrupy-sweet tone. You pulled at the hem of your shirt, pulling it up over your head, and let it drop to the floor. “Tell me how you’d touch me, Josh. Tell me while you touch yourself.”

You watched as he took his semi-erect cock in his hand, beginning to stroke it slowly. His expression was beginning to relax as he watched you standing in front of him. He pressed his teeth down into his bottom lip for an extended moment before speaking. “I’d take your tits in my hands, and squeeze them, pinching your nipples between my fingers.” 

You took his cue, lifting your hands to remove your bra, dropping it into the heap on the floor. You wouldn’t tell him, but in this unfamiliar room, you felt more exposed than you usually would. It wouldn’t matter though, because the amount of arousal that flooded your system was far more potent than the distant worry that loomed about. You pulled your hands to your breasts, kneading them just as Josh would, pinching your nipples firmly between the knuckles of your fingers, letting him watch. “What next, baby boy?” You asked. He grinned at the name. You watched him fuck his hand, his thumb working against his rigid shaft, pressing in against his skin to add the right amount of friction. 

“I’d slip my hand down into your pants and finger your clit, just to get you going. Let me watch you do it this time, Mama.” He bit his bottom lip again, adjusting himself on the desk to rest on his inactive hand, his head tilting as he relaxed into pleasuring himself. 

“You want to watch me finger my clit?” You asked, echoing him. “I’d be happy to.” You brought four fingers to your lips, licking them before sliding them into your leggings and underwear, locating your clit easily. “And how would your fingers work, Josh?” You asked, taking a step or two forward closer to him. “How would you finger my pussy?” 

He raised an eyebrow, obviously enthused. “Usually it would be my tongue-fucking your clit, but since I can’t do that–”

You reached for his face, grabbing hold of his chin gruffly. “That’s not what I asked, pretty boy. Are you going to obey or are you going to be a smart ass?” You loved this act–of feeling in control, especially over Josh. At times he possessed such submissive qualities, that it was difficult to get through the day without daydreaming of instances exactly like this. 

“I’ll be good, I promise,” He said, grateful when you released your grip on him. He was still grinning, but that would change later when he’d beg to cum and you would do everything except appease him. 

“So, my little pet–answer the question. How would you finger my clit, hm?” You asked again. 

“I’d spin my fingers in slow circles around it.” He said, letting his mouth drop slightly open from the pleasure of touching himself. “I’d taste you, putting my fingers in my mouth.” You raised your eyebrows, your lips curling upward. You liked what he had to say. “You taste so good, Mama.” 

“What next?” you asked, doing as he had said, rolling spirals around your swelling clit. You pulled your fingertips out of your pants and inserted them into your mouth, tasting your own slick before bringing them back down. 

“Fuck–” he murmured under his breath, watching you with sagging eyelids. 

“You wish it were you, don’t you?” You asked him, chuckling softly. He nodded, licking his lips. 

“I can be nice,” You added, stepping forward and repeating the process again, pulling your fingers to his lips. “Open up.” You tapped his lips, stopping to slide your fingertips onto his tongue as he opened his mouth. “Suck on them.” He closed his lips around your fingers, his tongue working around them to taste you. His voice rumbled against your fingers as he hummed, immersing himself in the moment. You pulled them out of his mouth. 

“I want to see more. Please.” He said, his voice coming out in almost a whimper. 

“More? And how do you get more?” You asked, guiding him further. 

“Please take your pants off. And your panties. I need to see you. All of you.” His eyes sparkled with intensity, his voice pitching upward as he pleaded. 

“Mm, Good answer.” You reached for your leggings and underwear, pulling them down both at once, kicking them to the side with the other discarded clothing. “Let me help you see better.” Stepping around the desk, you pulled the chair out from underneath it and rolled it back around to rest in front of Josh. You lowered yourself upon it, spreading your legs wider for him to see. 

“But first, hands on your thighs.” 

“What?” He asked, confused. 

“Stop touching yourself. Put your hands on your thighs while you watch. If you slip up just once, we stop, get dressed and leave.”

“No, no, Mama. I’ll be a good boy, I swear.”  He gave in to submission, his hands releasing from his cock to rest flat on his thighs. You watched as his hardness throbbed and twitched almost involuntarily. It set you dripping.

“You’re such a good boy,” you said, returning your attention to yourself, smoothing your fingers over your belly and on down. “Speak to me baby. How would you like Mama to touch herself, hm? It’s all here for you.” 

“I would finger fuck you so well, Mama. I’d make sure you’d get whatever you want, especially with that beautiful clit of yours. I wish I was sucking on it right now.” You let your fingers slide back down in between your folds, feeling the increasing amount of slick coating your fingers. You pinched your middle fingers against your clit, squeezing your core muscles against the sensations that arose from the pressure.

“You know how to say exactly the right thing, my little prince. I’m practically dripping.” You spun slow spirals into your clit, biting your bottom lip as you scooched your lower body forward onto the chair, leaning backward so that he could see an unobstructed view of your pussy. 

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful, Mama. Let me touch you, please. I’ll do anything,” He said, his tone turning more insistent and whiny. 

“Anything?” You asked him, moving to insert a finger into your opening, curling upward. It was good, but not nearly as good as Josh would or could be. 

“Anything,” he swallowed. You watched his Adam’s Apple bob up and down. Your eyes traveled along the chains and crystals that adorned his bare chest, and you admired the way they pressed into his soft, supple, but strong physique. You let your gaze fall further until they landed between his legs, watching the tip of his cock drip, momentarily abandoned. 

“Tell me what you’d do.” You said, using your fingers to spread open your pussy, playfully inserting your fingers into your mouth, dripping wet saliva on them and returning them downward to please yourself. 

“I’d eat your pussy so good that I’d forget about my cock, Mama. I just want to make you feel good. I’d cum without touching myself, I just know it.” The way he spoke to you reminded you of a child begging for five extra minutes of playtime. You loved that he was trying to bargain with you in order to touch you. 

“Aw, poor thing,” you said. “You want to eat Mommy’s pussy so badly that you’d give up cumming just for a taste?” He nodded, eyeing you pleadingly, his eyes sparkling with hope that you’d give in. 

“On your knees.” You ordered, standing up, pushing the chair away from you, opening more space on the floor of the office. He moved from the desk quickly, getting in place on the carpet below you. He placed his hands back on his thighs for further instruction. The way he sat reminded you of an eager puppy dog, the way their eyes train on you, following your every move until you pay them the attention they’re owed. 

“I’ll give you a taste,” You told him. “Promise you’ll do a good job?” You asked, stepping forward to hover above him. The way he looked up at you spun your core in knots. 

“I’m only ever here to please you, to serve you,” he said, bringing his hands up to rest on your bare thighs. You let him touch you with no punishment—you’d be half-way conscious in a matter of moments anyway. You knew he’d leave you seizing against his face as he had so many times, and you would never get enough of it. 

“Then show me how well you serve your master,” you spoke, taking the final step forward, his face and neck inclining upward instantly to seamlessly connect with your body.

His tongue was strong but so gentle as he parted your folds for the first time, dragging it along your sensitive skin. You felt his facial hair scratching along the outer edges of your pussy, which only added to the ecstasy of having a man in between your legs—an extremely sexy man, who was submissively under your control, but effortlessly domineering when it came to fucking you. You could both pretend, and it would be fun in the moment, but you were foolish to believe that the man below you couldn’t make you cum in mere minutes. He held the power like a hidden ace, and you were very-well aware of it. He still let you play the game, enjoying the bratty names and power play. 

Josh pressed his face against you as you stood over him, and you grounded yourself, squatting lower so that gravity worked in your favor as he continued to eat your pussy. “Use your tongue,” you ordered. “So many girls watch you while you sing. They know you eat pussy well. Too bad they don’t have you between their legs.” You ground your pussy against his face, feeling his tongue working in wide loops against every surface. He took the risk of teasing your clit, avoiding contact for as long as he dared before flicking the strong tip of his tongue against it in fast spurts. In moments where it felt like you couldn’t take much more without cumming, he’d flee from your clit to lap up the juices that would collect at your entrance. You felt him humming against your skin as if you had prepared him a delicious meal to eat, his hot breath sweeping over your thighs when he’d come up gasping for air. 

“Fuck–” you moaned quietly, licking your lips as you processed the pleasure coursing though your body. “Fuck, that feels amazing.” He looked up at you with an almost innocent smile, his eyes sparkling with fervor as he licked his lips. 

“Am I doing a good job?” He asked you, rubbing his hands up your thighs and sides. You nodded quietly. 

“Keep going, baby. Do your job.” You said, trying your best to regain your authoritative demeanor. He was eager to please, his hands glued to your thighs as he spread them further apart, forcing you further down into the squat. 

“Don’t worry, Mama. Relax,” He told you. “I’ve got you.” He somehow read your mind, knowing that you’d feel self-conscious in this precarious, unbalanced position. Soon enough he’d have you teetering out of balance, the only thing keeping you upright being his strong arms. You breathed in deeply, letting him return to his pace. You felt him slip his tongue into your opening with no hesitation, fucking you with the tip as his fingers beared further into your skin. You let your back arch where you stood, squeezing your muscles against his face. He was an expert at this, and his confidence showed you that he knew it, too. You closed your eyes, reaching down to place your hands on his for a moment, showing him silent satisfaction. He removed one of his hands after a moment and brought it between your legs, inserting them into your opening, and moving his tongue back up to your swollen clit. 

“Jesus–fuck!” You hissed through your teeth, bringing your hands up to your tits, squeezing them in your hands, your nipples hard and erect against your palms. Josh had wrapped his free arm around your body, his hand splayed open against your ass and back as he pulled you firmly against his face. You felt his tongue and lips undulating wildly against your pussy, his fingers curling with abandon against your inner walls. Wet, sloppy noises filled the room, and you knew that they definitely could be heard in the hallway if someone were listening intently. “Oh my god!” You whimpered far too loudly, slamming your palm against your lips as you remembered where you were, the ecstasy flowing through your system far too immense for you to downplay any longer. 

Josh heaved a breath, coming up briefly for air. “Cum for me, Mama. Please cum all over my face. I want to taste you when you finish over my tongue.” His face was red with friction, his lips close to chafing. He didn’t care for an instant. His face would look completely fucked-out by the time he returned to the dressing room, but he didn’t care. He didn’t serve the stylists, only you. He wiped his lips casually before centering himself again underneath you, returning to your pulsing core. This time, he focused solely on your clit, using his agile tongue to flutter skillfully against the bud, sending your body climbing through a mountain-excursion, purposefully releasing his touch from you to pull you back down from the summit so that the very next time it would be even more intense. 

Your body quaked against your will, momentarily stealing with it most of your power over him. Josh was a submissive lover most of the time, but when it came to doing his job, he’d be sure to make you cum in ways you had never experienced with anyone else. He worked your pussy like it was a sacrament–something to be relished and celebrated, and you’d do nothing to stop him from doing exactly that. “Fuck-f–” you sputtered, feeling your hips beginning to buck instinctively, your body barreling toward the apex of climax. Your skin began to prickle with sweat from exertion and you felt your hair beginning to stick limply to your forehead and cheeks. “Josh! Josh–please–” You groaned in skittering gurgles that poured weakly from your throat. Your dominant tone had diminished to nothing, replaced with thin and pathetic whines that snatched away the demanding quality you had previously possessed. You knew that you’d regain power and composure, but you were too far gone in the moment to even consider it. 

Josh’s tongue moved faster and stronger than ever, his lips buzzing against your clit, his hands wrapped around your hips in a silent dare for you to move away from him. Your legs weakened above him, your thighs shuddering and squeezing tightly against his face. You collapsed forward on yourself, grateful for the strength of Josh’s grip on your body. You reached down, pulling and yanking at his hair, in a half hearted attempt for him to pull away from you, but he wouldn’t until he felt you finally cum–and even then, you knew he’d take his time lapping up the product of the orgasm, and you’d let him as a reward for a job well done. When he began to shake his head back and forth, his tongue contorting and flicking wildly, you knew you were done for. You finally let your eyes roll backward and you gave in to the torrent of sexual agony that roared through your entire body, leaving you to quiver pathetically above the one you had supposedly claimed was your subordinate. His tongue slowed, but he did not stop; instead, he moved lower to your entrance, lapping up and savoring the climax that leaked from you, diligent to not waste a single drop. 

“Holy fucking shit,” You said through a heaving sigh, pushing him away from you so that you could regain your breath. You had expected to see it, but you hadn’t prepared for the way he would look when he came up for air himself. The makeup that the stylists had applied was severely smudged–embarrassingly so. His face and lips were rubbed raw, and his hair had been pulled and yanked out of its styled appearance, making it impossible for anyone to not catch on to what had happened behind this closed door. 

“Oh my God, your face,” You chuckled, reaching for him as he rose from the floor. 

“I don’t care,” he said this time. “That was fucking worth it,” he grinned, pressing his lips together. “My lips are numb.” He said, pulling his thumb to swipe along his mouth. 

“Let me show you how much I appreciate you for your amazing work,” You said, walking him back to the desk. “Sit. Let me take care of you, Baby.” He wordlessly did as he was asked, sitting on the edge of the table, waiting for you. To your amazement, he was still hard between his legs. “You loved tasting me, didn’t you, hm?” You asked, reaching forward to hover your lips above his, surprising him by taking his cock in your hand. 

“I loved it so much,” He said lustfully, his gaze fixed on your lips as you increased the pressure of your hand against his cock. “Can I please kiss you?” He asked, his head tilting forward, drawn by some kind of magnetism. You appeased his request, letting him fall into your kiss easily, his head bobbing and tilting as you touched him. You parted from the kiss, lowering yourself in front of him. You were sure he was expecting a blow job, but you evaded that expectation by moving to his chest to suckle on his round, erect nipples. You made a show of flicking your eyes upward through your lashes as you fluttered the tip of your tongue against his hard nipple, eventually closing your mouth around it to suckle upon it. He groaned deeply, the sounds escaping his throat in deep, raspy strains. Josh let his head tip backward as he closed his eyes, his hands moving to rest upon your shoulders. 

“Josh! I know you’re in there,” someone almost shouted on the other side of the door as they knocked forcefully on it, sending you springing away from Josh. It was Danny. “They’ve been trying to call your phone for the last fifteen minutes. Finish up whatever you’re doing and come on.” 

“Fuck,” You whispered dejectedly, reaching for his clothing. 

“It’s okay, Mama. To be continued…” he said, hopping off of the desk. 

“If you act right,” you said, with a wink. “You’ll just have to wait a little longer.” You bit your bottom lip, scheming up ideas for how you’d tease him until you’d finally give him his well-earned reward. 

End of Part 1.

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#josh kiszka #josh gvf #josh kiszka smut #josh gvf smut #gvf #greta van fleet #greta van fleet smut #josh kiszka fanfiction #josh kiszka fanfic #josh kiszka fic #josh gvf fic #josh gvf fanfic #josh kiszka imagine #JOSH HARNESS SMUT #meeting the master #Whew this one was so fun to write

[tenderfxck]

diluc//just so much pining//gn!reader//18+

contents: pining!diluc, alcohol, intoxication, masturbation, thinking of you <3

words: uhhhhhh a lil less than 2k

notes: garden kisses by Giveon and jim beam is responsible for this one ehe, somewhat proofread, we die like diluc's ego the morning after this fic, i wrote this to pacify my raging need to publish something with diluc while i work on the big fic, i also posted this on my ao3 if you'd rather read it here &lt;3

It was a rare night, and honey whiskey was to blame.

Well, more accurately, the thought of you which turned him to the sweet warmth of the drink was to blame. A sweet warmth that he hoped would mimic what the taste of you must be like.

The bar of the Angel’s Share had been closed for about a half-hour and the last drunkard had been carried home soon after. Diluc sat with his elbows on the bar still yet to be wiped down, head bowed and cheeks flushed.

He despises alcohol. At least, that’s what he tells himself. It sits too heavy in his mouth, leaving a trail of warmth blooming down his throat. Intoxication breeds carelessness. It causes him to be far too reckless, too hard to ignore those pesky emotions he’d rather mask behind a stiff exterior.

He supposed it must be sometime around three a.m. It was a busy night at the Angel’s Share. A new liquor was on the menu, one of the only kinds of alcohol not to be sourced from the winery. Supposedly, it tasted of the fresh honey of a sweet flower.

Diluc could now be assured that yes, it did, and that yes, it was a potent drink, since he had been sneaking shots of it most of the night.

He wasn’t sure what initially pushed him to throw back that first glassful. Not precisely, anyway. You had that sort of effect on him, he’s come to find. Never one thing, but the combination of you as a whole. Your sweet voice. Those clever eyes that always seemed to catch his across the tavern. The quips and teasing thrown at him before giving way to genuine, caring words. His alcohol addled brain offered the alluring silhouette your outfit cut tonight before his reserved side suppressed the thought in a huff.

Falling for a regular of the Angel’s Share. Cliché, he knows.

What caused this silly crush to start anyway? Diluc doubted the answer lay in any singular one of those qualities. Maybe another shot would make it clearer, he reasoned, willingly ignoring the foolishness in his own logic.

Another mouthful down, burning his throat and warming his chest before spreading through the rest of his gut.

Ah, wait, that’s right. That made him start this poor pity-party in the first place. It was his own damn fault.

Despite his disdain for the drink itself, he was a serviceable bartender. And you being his favorite regular, he would often mix something special for you each night when you visited him.

Using this new whiskey, he concocted a new drink. One of tea leaves and lemon and that sweet honey liquor. He always liked coming up with names for his drinks more than actually concocting them (but liked it best when you taste-tested them), so the title he proudly settled on for the golden liquid was A Sweet Mora.

Never fearing a strong drink, you happily partook of his new creation. Then another. And another.

He was so delighted that you loved the new drink he didn’t quite notice how tipsy he was making his favorite regular.

It wasn’t until you leaned so sweetly against him, total trust in him to keep you upright in your inebriated state that he realized his carelessness.

Diluc looked upon your gentle expression, flushed and content in the moment. So, so adorable.

And very clearly drunk.

He called upon Charles to cover for him, bashfully wrapping an arm around your wavering body. He led you out of the bar and walked you home without incident. He safely delivered you to your front doorstep and loitered in front until he heard your haphazard shuffling result in the click of a locked door.

Diluc then walked silently back to the Angel’s Share to finish his shift, unable to think of anything but you.

Weren’t you just supposed to be an annoyance like his other patrons? Chatting idly at the bar with him, distracting him from his work?

So why is he picturing you pinned below him on the bar top? Shifting so shyly under his gaze, avoiding the burning intensity of his eyes bearing into your sweet form? He can almost feel the fabric of your petticoat, of his hands threading through the corset strings, loosening the garment from your ribs before his hands delve into the softness he's been dreaming of for so many nights.

Your sighs at the bar tonight had been plaguing his mind. What if he had been causing them?

He groaned, purposefully knocking his head against the bar top.

He is a gentleman. He was raised better than this. Such undignified thoughts should never even cross his mind to begin with.

And yet here he was, drunk and pitifully attempting not to think of you.

The drunkards were gone. He was tired. Closing duties could be future Diluc’s problem. Punishment, he thought, for all the poor decisions of tonight, surely to accompany the hangover that would result as well. He abandons his cleaning rag on the countertop, beginning to loosen his ascot as he climbs the tavern to the spare bedroom tucked away on the top floor. It was a precaution, a humble bed with cotton sheets for any bartender working the closing shift to rest if making it home was too daunting of a task. Diluc was sure he could brave the journey back to the winery, but he rather wanted to wallow in his own feelings without the long walk or his staff being able to witness it when he reached home, thank you very much.

He casted aside his overcoat as soon as opened the door to the bedroom, clumsily but quickly doing away with every unneeded layer until he was down to just his loose undershirt and underwear, flopping down on the bed in a manner that he’s sure Adelinde would have scolded him for.

And now he was lying in the plush bed, alone, and head swimming in nothing but you.

His face finds the pillow, burying his head in the soft down as if it might drown out his rampant thoughts.

Maybe one night he could show you the way up here. Lay you out on the simple, plush quilt.

Half of his booze addled brain would want to just watch you doze off. Wants to watch as your face softens and your chest gently rises and falls. Admire your beauty in the peacefulness of sleep.

The other half wished to just ravish you.

He knows, he knows you’d just be so soft below him. The plush of your thighs that he always longs to see hidden beneath garments bare to him as he grips them so tight. Making his way up your torso squeezing at whatever supple skin he pleases.

Could he taste you? Crawl between your legs and push those thighs apart, hands kneading into the soft flesh as you unravel just for him. He wants to see you, wants you to show him everything.

He can imagine the heady, encompassing scent of your arousal pooling between your legs. Just the thought causes his boxers to grow far too tight, cock straining against the fabric.

Archons, he was a fool. All his stoicism, his efforts to repress these growing feelings, all crumbling in the aftermath of that sweet liquor making his head fuzzy with thoughts of you.

He knew it was dirty, immoral even thinking about his dear patron in such a way. His sweet regular, poised on your usual bar stool, waiting for him with a warm smile as he started his shift.

Could you find just as comfortable a spot on his lap?

The thought of the swell of your ass planted on his pelvis, gingerly grinding down into him was enough to make him fall apart. A scarred, callous hand reached below his waistband to grip himself.

He gave a few tentative strokes to himself, breath stuttering at how intense the sensation felt just from the tantalizing idea of you on top of him.

Diluc would want to mark you up just a little. Selfishly brand your neck for himself. Let every other goddamn person know you were his. All while you whine and grind against his thigh.

Maybe he’d let you go at it for a while, staining the fine fabric of his dress pants until you were begging him to just make you feel good.

He gripped himself tight at the base of his cock, attempting to halt the orgasm barreling so quickly to completion.

It wasn’t his fault, he swears. He’d been pining too damn long, ignoring these urges too often.

Something like guilt bubbled in his gut, picturing you in such a position. But the thought quickly escaped his mind as he spit in his hand and gave a slow thrust into his fist, imagining you sinking down a few inches onto his aching cock.

Diluc bit back a noise he was surprised he could even make. His chest heaved, hips snapping up as he started to fuck his fist, seeing you bouncing so perfectly on his lap. He’d find purchase on those plush thighs of yours, pulling you back onto him over and over.

You’d be so much softer than his hand. You’d grip him like a vice, fingers bruising his flesh as he pounded into you, panting, pleading, Diluc, please, please, please…

He gasped, squeezing himself as he spilled all over his hand, his torso, grunting as desperately stroked himself, imagining how good he knows you’d feel cumming on his cock.

He took a long moment, sitting in the quiet of the lonely tavern spare room, his heaving breath the only sound echoing off the empty walls.

Archons. He needed to do something about this. About you…

Another problem for future Diluc to deal with…

He sighed, unbuttoning his undershirt, wiping himself with it before tossing it haphazardly across the room.

Diluc had much to think on. But for now, he threw the quilt over himself, finding an extra pillow and curling up with it between his sturdy arms, imagining holding you so tight to his chest.

Thoughts and feelings he could ponder in the morning.

#tender library #diluc #diluc x reader #diluc x y/n #diluc smut #genshin x reader #genshin x y/n #genshin smut

[kydrogendragon]

I saw your birthday post and had an idea. It's comics canon Dream gets obsessive over his romantic partners, but... But! I wanna see that kind of obsessive devotion showered on his friend. His friend who waited and procured a new meeting place. No romance, no sex though QPR levels of skinship would be nice. I could see them both being different levels of touch starved. I would love to see 0 to 100 levels of friendship. Dream should get the chance with Hob who has already shown such loyalty.

We got our fifth post for the day!!

Ohhhh I loved this promp, thought! Honestly, this deserves it's own full length character study-type fic cause there's so much you can do with it here. I tried my best to fit bits in in a coherent manner and tried my best to show that obsession and devotion without it feeling like it dove too close to the "romance" track.

Thank you so much, anon! Hope you enjoy!

Relationship: Hob & Dream Words: 4141 Warnings: None Ao3 Link

The first time that Dream met with Hob Gadling after escaping Fawney Rig and restoring his realm, he had expected a great many things. What he hadn’t expected was for the White Horse to have been demolished and for his friend to create a new meeting place for them. The words The New Inn hung proudly against the brick building and a sense of warmth emanated from it in a way Dream had not experienced in many years.

Hob Gadling greeted him with a smile. Dream shouldn’t be surprised by this. The man was a well of optimism and joy. He has always looked upon life with a sense of wonder and excitement that Dream could hardly fathom. He should not be surprised his arrival was treated with that same level of happiness.

Still, he was surprised nonetheless.

They had talked well into the night, far past the normal operating hours of the establishment, but it did not matter when Hob owned the place. Being here with Hob, simply talking and listening to the mundane stories of his life, brought a peace to Dream. It was a comfort to simply be in a way he has not known how. When he was imprisoned, even then he had not simply existed. He was far into his mind, constantly staking out any weaknesses in their defenses or gaps in their bindings. Even when he had not moved in over a hundred years, Dream had not known rest.

But here was different. In these walls, rebuilt and lovingly fashioned with friendly intents and hopes, and with Hob’s cheerful baritone voice washing over him, Dream could finally relax. It was a strange sensation, one he fought initially, but sometime, after most patrons eased out and it was just the two of them, Dream managed to let the tension in his shoulders drop.

Then, Hob had invited him back. He had said Dream was welcome to visit anytime. Didn’t matter when, he was welcome. It was an offer he had never received before. A standing invite, one that Dream well knew Hob meant with all his heart, was a rare thing to be extended to anyone, let alone an Endless. And yet, the impossible immortal did so anyways.

Which is why Dream is currently sitting on Hob Gadling’s couch in the dark.

He had shown up to his flat the next day. Repairs in the Dreaming were progressing and, if Dream is being honest, he missed the sense of comfort he got from being near his friend (a friend. He did not have friends. And yet, he now has one.) Dream had failed to account for his work schedule, however, and upon arriving in Hob’s living room, found the place empty. It was no matter. Hob had told him he was welcome at anytime. He could wait.

Dream had explored the living room, trailing a finger across book titles and picture frames, ghosting touches over ancient artifacts with stories so embedded within, it made Dream smile. He brushed against the daydreams of sunlight and warmth from the plants upon his window ledges and, when the sun began to tilt down, heading for the horizon, Dream plucked a book from the expansive selection of Hob’s personal library and began to read.

He had lounged upon the plush fabric couch, his boots fading to sand as he tucked his legs underneath him. The book in had was an original print, well loved and well worn. The pages still carried with them the dreams of the author, though faint. It had also been many years since Dream had simply taken the time to read a book himself. Yes, the knowledge, the story told, it lay inside him, but the act of turning each page, of reading each word, there was something also calming about it.

Dream was nearly finished when Hob Gadling finally arrives.

The door creaks open into the darkness that’s settled into the room. There is a faint glow from the streetlights outside. Dream watches as his friend shuffles his bag off of his shoulder as he closes the door behind him. He tosses his keys on the counter beside him and sighs. “Ah, Christ,” his friend mutters, slinging the bag onto the counter as well. He looks up. Then he screams.

Dream blinks.

“Jesus, fuck! Dream?” Hob cries, stumbling backwards into his front door, one hand raised out, as if prepared to defend himself.

“Hello, Hob.”

His friends sighs and visibly sags. Dream frowns. Perhaps the invitation had not been made genuinely. Perhaps he should leave-

“Christ, you scared me, my friend,” Hob says, chuckling to himself. “Are those... do you have cat eyes?”

Dream blinks again. “Cat eyes?”

“Yeah, s’what scared me half to death. Two beady little eyes staring up at me in the darkness.”

“Ah,” Dream says, closing the cover of the book in his hands and setting it on the coffee table in front of him. “They are stars that you are seeing. They are not cat eyes.”

As Dream’s gaze lifts back to his friends, he sees Hob just staring at him, mouth slightly agape. “Right. Stars.” He says. Hob takes a steadying breath before nodding. “Sure. Star eyes. Why not.” Dream follows Hob’s movements as he makes his way to the kitchen and flicks on the soft under cabinet lighting. It brightens the room, but not considerably. The soft glow is comforting, almost. “Tea?”

Dream nods as he stands. He makes his way to the other side of the counter, watching Hob go through the motions of preparing two cups of tea. He pulls down a pair of novelty mugs, chuckling to himself as he reaches for the black mug peppered with small stars. He looks over to Dream with a smirk. “Star mug for Mr. Star-Eyes.”

It is after they had drank their tea on the comfort of Hob’s couch in the darkness and when Hob’s foot taps against his leg with a smile at a joke he cracks that Dream begins to realize that he cares quite deeply for this man that he calls friend.

It is a month later when Dream returns to the New Inn. It is not his third visit, but rather his tenth, though this one is special. He had brought with him a gift. It is customary, he has found, to give gifts to ones friends. And, Dream finds, he wishes to. Hob Gadling, who waited, who was loyal. Who stayed here, knowing Dream would return eventually when he had given him every reason to believe otherwise. He showed a level of faith he’d seen only in one other - Lucienne. And she had been his Raven, his first. How better to reward, to thank, such faith, such loyalty, than with a gift, spun from dreamstuff by his own hand?

The fine metal bracelet rests in his coat pocket. It it warm against him, thrumming with his own power and vibrates, perhaps a bit too excitedly, against his hand, eager to fulfill it’s function. Dream steps into the building that has become as close to a home in the Waking as Dream could ever know. Hob sits at their usual table, engrossed in his laptop. He walks forward, pulling his usual seat out, and sits as Hob looks up and greets him with that familiar smile.

“Well, hello there, my friend!” Hob says, closing the top of his laptop. He crosses his arm atop it. “How are you doing?”

“I am well. Yourself?”

Hob smiles and dives into their usual routine. He talks of work and his students, he talks of the staff and the customers. He talks of the frustrations with the Dean and the lack of support for a new course he wishes to teach. Dream makes a mental note of this. But most importantly, he talks of himself, of his latest botched cooking attempt and his struggles with keeping his newest plant alive.

As the conversation naturally ebbs, Dream speaks. “I have a gift for you.” Hob’s eyes widen comically.

“A gift? For me?”

Dream nods and reaches into his coat pocket. The thin gold metal band shines in the overhead lighting. It is simple in design, though the underside of the band contains script of a language few speak any longer, though Hob was borne into. The Middle English reads, “Min Gadling”. He holds it out on his palm in front of Hob.

His friend looks between him and the bracelet, shock and confusion on his face, but reaches forward, slowly, and plucks the metal from his hand. Dream sighs, his hand retreating, as the dreamstuff hums in Hob’s hold. He examines it, turning it in his hands, when his eyes finally spot the text. He inhales sharply as his eyes dart up to Dream.

It is in this moment that Dream realizes, perhaps, this gift is too much. When he’d broached the topic to Matthew, his raven had ensured him that gifts between friends were fine, though the examples given were often food or small tokens. This, he realizes, may not qualify as appropriate gifts.

Dream tenses, his mind already spinning tales of possible ends, most of which involve Hob revoking his offers of friendship, of visitation permission. Even in friendship, it seems, he is too much. Then Hob speaks.

“You know, my last name apparently means companion or comrade.” He smiles. Dream lets out a breath.

“It can also mean rogue,” he replies, allowing a small smile to grace his face in return.

Hob chuckles. “Yeah, pretty sure that’s what mine was meant to mean.” He looks back down at the bracelet, fondness in his eyes. “Thank you for this. It means a lot. Truly. I don’t have much with my true name on it these days. It’ll be nice to have something always on me to remind me where I came from. How far I’ve come.” His eyes lift, meeting Dream’s. “The friends I’ve made along the way.”

Hob fiddles with the metal in his hands, his brows furrowing as his eyes dart across Dream’s face. “Not that I’m not grateful. I am. Completely! And I love it and will always happily accept any gifts, but… why?”

“I-” Dream starts, letting his eyes fall to the table between them. The truth? Dream wished to bestow upon Hob all that he could offer for everything Hob has given him. He wished to thank him for his friendship, for his stories and companionship. He wished to offer him but a paltry piece of the debt he has piled himself with off of Hob Gadling's kindness. He wished to see Hob wear that which marks him as his, as his friend, his one and only. Dream only knew intensity. His lover often complained of such, but change does not come easy to Dream. And in friendship, it seems, he is no different.

“Friendship bracelets, I’ve been told, are common in this century, are they not?” It is far from the truth, though it was the inspiration for the gift’s form.

“Well, yeah,” Hob chuckles, finally sliding the bracelet over his hand. It shrinks, fitting his wrist perfectly. His friend’s mouth drops as he stares at the metal. “I- did that just shrink?”

“Yes,” Dream replies. “It will adjust to whatever size you desire.”

Hob runs a hand through his hair, his eyes glued to his wrist. “I’ll never get over just how incredible you are, you know that?” Dream smiles, preening under the praise. Hob shakes his head and manages to tear his eyes away and turn back to Dream. “Anyways, yes, friendship bracelets are a thing, but they’re usually small things made of twine or colored yarns, not decorative metals with fancy scripts and fancy magics. Besides, usually friendship bracelets have a twin. One for each of us.”

“Oh?” He has made an error, it seems. One that can be resolved quickly. He moves, readying to whirl in a matching bracelet for himself when Hob speaks again.

“But! Key part- I have to make yours. Just, you know, don’t expect anything as fancy as this, yeah?” He says, waggling his wrist just above the table with a grin.

Ah. The act of the creation is as important to the function as the bracelet itself. “I look forward to the fruits of your labor then, Hob Gadling.”

If the Dean suddenly wakes up with an overwhelming nagging feeling to greenlight Hob’s proposed class the next morning, who’s to say?

The first time Hob truly touches him, Dream stiffens. They are out visiting the newest exhibit at the Natural History museum. Hob was staring up at a wall-sized painting of a Titanosaur, the largest dinosaur, according to the various placards in the room. Dream had been talking to the inaccuracies of the painting, noting a distinct lack of fur and a poor distribution of fat when a large school group makes their way through the smaller hallway they are standing in.

The hoard of teenage youth slide through, jovial and pointing at various pieces of arts and relics as they pass. Hob reaches out, a hand resting on Dream’s back as he guides the pair of them a few steps closer, making room for those walking by. His touch is warm and melts into his core like honey-sweet syrup. The sensation is so startling, Dream simply… goes. He follows Hob’s hand and allows his friend to move him. Then, he returns his hand to his side.

Dream, on principle, does not allow touch, not unless he wishes. And he most certainly does not allow for people to move him. But, he finds, his mind allows both of these to Hob Gadling, even if he had not consciously made the choice. It is a strange realization, learning the allowances he would have for his friend. The worst is Hob seems oblivious to the inner turmoil occurring in Dream.

The strangest, he supposes, his how a part of his wishes to list into his friend, into his warmth again. It has been mere minutes, yet he is left wanting for the feeling. He looks down, his eyes drifting beside the nameplate to the right of the large work of art as Hob’s voice washes over him again, talking of archeology and his desires to “give it a shot, one of these lives.” Perhaps, Dream thinks to himself, he has been without touch for far too long.

The second time Hob touches him, Dream had initiated it. Well, more than he had the last time, at least. They are in his flat, this time, resting on the couch, watching a movie Hob had insisted upon. It is evening in London. A few boxes of Thai takeout rest on the coffee table beside a plate of biscuits Hob had made just for Dream after learning his preference of the sweet things. He has a blanket draped over his form, another insistence from Hob. He claimed movies were always better when bundled up, then accused him of always looking cold.

Dream had been unable to argue against him. He was always cold. It lingered on the edges of his form. The memory of cool, unforgiving glass pressed against his skin, chilling him to his core. Though, Dream is certain he has been cold for longer than that. But with Hob, in his flat, under a well-loved blanket that feels and smells of his friend, Dream finally feels almost warm.

Hob sits beside him, still upright, still near, as he works through the last few bites of his Pad Thai. Dream could shift his foot just slightly and rest it against Hob’s thigh if he so wished. So he did. The slight curve of his foot melds into the soft give of his warm flesh, covered as it is by corduroy. Hob tilts his head back and to the side, eyes looking at Dream with a question in his brow.

He stares at the television, refusing to meet Hob’s gaze. It was an ask, nonverbal as it was. He did not wish to see the rejection should it come. But it didn’t. Instead, he felt Hob shift, setting down the now empty takeout container on the table and shifts, letting his arm drape over the back of the couch as he presses back against Dream’s foot. When he finally glances over at Hob, he’s met with a gentle smile before those warm brown eyes turn back to the movie.

If Dream rested his head against the back of the couch, just beside Hob’s hand, and if he let his eyes fall closed as fingers carded through his hair, he would never say.

“Hey! I was hoping I might see you today,” Hob called from his usual spot in the New Inn. Dream made his way over to the seat across the table and looks at him with a confused frown.

“Is something the matter?” Was he in trouble? Or perhaps Hob was finally shifting from this current life to the next one. He had talked with Dream about running out of life left in this place after all.

“No, nothing bad, don’t worry.” Hob said with a smile. He turns, digging through the bag to his right. He exclaims in joy as he pulls forth from the depths of his bag a small paper box. Sliding it across the table, he looks up, excitement in his eyes.

Dream reaches down, plucking the small, light-weight box from the table. Already, he can feel the daydreams that waft through the box from the object inside. Tales of friendship and hope, of care and consideration flow through. Most importantly, though, is how he is the focus of all these daydreams. When he removes the lid and sees the delicate black leather cuff inside, he knows exactly what it is.

“The twin to your friendship bracelet, yes?” Dream asks, taking the leather cuff in his own hands. It is thinner than many cuffs. Perhaps two fingers wide, but the face is decorated, stamped with care, with trailing vines and images of birds - ravens, he suspects - in flight. It is not perfect. There are imperfections in the stamping, shadows of a second press just slightly misaligned from the first. The stitches are mostly even, though there are spots, Dream notices as he rubs his thumb over the edges, that are off– a little too close to the edge, a little too far from it.

It is imperfectly perfect. It is human and hand-made. Dream would not have it any other way.

Hob nods, speaking as Dream slowly buttons the leather cuff around his wrist, letting the softness of the well-worked leather cement him more firmly into this form. “Yeah, took forever trying to think of what would match your all black ensemble. Figured a dark stained leather would be a safe bet. Plus I’m shit at weaving.” He smiles, watching Dream’s deft fingers finish securing the leather around his wrist. Dream turns his wrist, watching the light cast shadows in the small indents of the hide.

He has not been gifted things often. Less so is he gifted things with the sole intent of giving him something without wanting something in return. He is also nearly certain that this is the first time he has been given something with the intent to match, so that they each hold claim over the other. Dream shivers at the thought. Hob had eagerly accepted his gift, his mark, and that alone had been a heady thing. This? Having Hob Gadling's mark upon him? Having the spoils of his work and effort, all done solely for him, so that they’d “match”?

There are tears in his eyes. Hob’s face falls into one of concern. “Hey, you okay? Is it too much?” He asks, resting his hands, palms up, on the table in front of Dream. An offer of comfort, if needed. Hob has always been considerate in this regard since that movie night in his flat. The offer of touch has become an open one, though gestures such as this make accepting it all the easier.

Dream rests his hand, the one bearing the black leather, on top of Hob’s own. Warm fingers wrap around him instantly, giving him a gentle squeeze. “No,” Dream manages, tearing his eyes away from their hands and up to his friend’s face. “It is perfect. Thank you, my dear friend.”

And Hob smiles. “Anytime.”

It has been well over a year since Dream returned to the Waking, since first returned to Hob Gadling. He has just arrived for their newest tradition: Monday Movie Nights. Matthew rests on his shoulder as he stands outside the door to Hob’s flat, a bottle of wine plucked from his own dreams along with the venison pasties he had so wished for Dream to try back at their 1589 meeting.

Hob opens the door with a wide smile and ushers them both in, taking the food and drink from Dream’s hands with a fond chuckle. “Grab these from a dream, did you?” Hob asks, setting both offerings on the coffee table next to the fish and chips and the plate of biscuits. There’s also a small bowl on the table beside the chair that Matthew has taken to resting in full of different seed. “Can’t imagine you slaving away in a kitchen.”

“Ha!” Matthew cries, flying from Dream’s shoulder over to the chair’s armrest. “Now that’s something I’d pay to see.” His raven cranes his neck up, watching as Hob uncorks the wine and pours them both a glass. “Can you even cook? Like, I know you don’t usually eat, so you probably don’t really need to cook. And you could probably just… magic up food if you really wanted it.”

Dream sits on the edge of the couch, waiting for Hob to take his usual spot before getting comfortable. He whisks away his boots and coat with a thought, letting them fall into sand, disappearing before hitting the ground. “I contain the collective subconscious, Matthew. I could cook if I desired to.” He takes the offered wine glass in hand. Hob nabs the remote from the table and falls back into the plush cushions. He wears his usual lounge wear, the cuffs of his joggers riding up his legs slightly. He leans back, his spine pressed into the soft curve of the edge of the back cushion as it flows into the armrest. Dream scooches himself closer, letting his back fall against his friend’s chest as he settles himself between his legs.

He has found, after a night spent in tears in Hob Gadling’s arm after telling him the tale of Fawney Rig, of cold glass and dried blood, that he feels calmer than ever when enveloped in his warmth. So, when the situation allows, Dream lets himself be draped in Hob’s arms and enjoys the solidity he finds in the touch and the warmth. Hob has since admitted, during one of their previous movie nights, that he is happy Dream enjoys these moments, that he’s missed being able to hold someone close like this.

Dream had been surprised at the time. Hob was always a touchy person, based on his interactions with others, though after the many many months together, he’s found that while Hob may have other friends and expresses his affections through hugs and touch and friendly slaps on the back, he misses this. He lacks the skinship they have with each other here. Human society may be getting better at allowing such gestures among friends, “cuddling with the homies” as Matthew had so gracefully put it, was still not widely accepted. But they had each other. And that was enough.

Hob’s arm wraps around his center, holding him close, his other sets his glass down on the side table next to Matthew’s seed. He hits play on the remote and retrieves his glass again, giving it a gentle tap to the edge of Dream’s own. He smiles, tilting his head against Hob’s shoulder.

The movie plays. Dream snacks on the freshly baked biscuits and even tries one of the venison pasties, much to Hob’s delight. He will admit, they were quite tasty. Hob, himself, works a steady pace through their acquired snacks and drink and sighs contentedly when he sets down his emptied glass of wine. He and Matthew chat, commenting on the film and it’s poor special effects work while Dream listens. The fireplace below the television crackles gently.

Dream smiles, closing his eyes as he lets his mind focus on the friendly chatter, the warmth of Hob’s body against his own, and the the feeling of happiness that starts to stir inside of him. He must thank his sister one day for bringing Hob Gadling into his life. Dream doesn’t know what he would have done without him.

#dreamling #hob gadling #dream of the endless #the sandman #ky writes #Kydrogen's Birthday Prompts

[7-wonders]

Of Jack-o'-Lanterns and Misperceptions

Summary: You carve pumpkins with two of Dream's sisters in the Dreaming!

Word Count: 1.2k (just a short lil thing!)

A/N: If you haven't read the comics, all you need to know about Delirium is that she's the baby of the family and I would protect her with my life.

The Dreaming is home to many odd and fantastical situations that one wouldn’t normally see in their day-to-day life. But even in a land like the Dreaming, seeing the little group that’s diligently working around a table that’s been set up in Fiddler’s Green gives inhabitants pause. One inhabitant in particular, upon coming across the scene, begins to fear for his life.

“Look kid,” Merv says nervously, putting his hands up in the air as if in surrender, “I don’t know what I did to make you hate me so much, but you didn’t have to show me in such a brutal way.”

You laugh, just barely glancing from your careful knife work to the pumpkin-headed man standing in front of you. “C’mon Merv, surely you know that carving pumpkins is a Halloween tradition!”

“Tradition or not, give a guy a little warning next time before you go around driving a knife through the same thing his head is made of.”

“To be fair,” the dark-skinned woman sitting across from you interjects, giving you a wink, “this was initially my idea.”

Merv groans. “Great, Death’s got it out for me.”

“Do you want me to try and make one that looks like you?” you ask, attempting to butter him up.

He pauses to consider this before begrudgingly leaning against the table. “...Yeah. Give it your best shot.”

It still tends to give you pause when you think about the fact that your boyfriend’s sister, the literal anthropomorphic personification known as Death, is friendly with you. Even when you meet up with her in your world, the Waking, you sometimes do a mental double take when you realize that you’re sitting in a park or enjoying a coffee with Death. The woman has made an effort to try and be a friend to you since you’re in a relationship with her brother – something you very much appreciate, considering there is a whole lot you don’t understand about that which you had believed to be fake until only a few months ago.

In fact, it was Death who had suggested this little project. She had popped by your home one night to say hello while you were watching Halloween, and had remarked how much she loved the movie. Though she couldn’t stay long enough to watch the movie in its entirety with you, you did both launch into a conversation about Halloween and everything enjoyable about it. She had mentioned how she loved to carve jack-o’-lanterns back when they were still made of turnips, and then a devious smile spread on her face before she asked if you enjoyed carving pumpkins.

That’s how you ended up here, in your lover’s domain, dragging a knife through a pumpkin and trying your hardest to beat Death in designing a jack-o’-lantern. How strange your life has become in recent months.

When Death looks up from her pumpkin and smiles, you already know who she’s looking at. Though you have no powers of your own, you can still feel Dream’s presence whenever he’s around you. When he places his large hands on your shoulders, you crane your neck around to look up at him with a grin.

“Hi, Morpheus,” you greet.

Morpheus, as is customary whenever he sees you (a true romantic, he is), kisses you softly. “My love.”

From across the table, Death makes a noise of endearment. “You two are just so cute, sometimes I cannot stand it!”

His lips twitch into a small smile, the most emotion he’ll show around his beloved sister. “Hello, sister.” Dream almost does a double take before amending his greeting. “Hello, sisters. Though I am pleased to see you both, I cannot help but be unsure of when it is that I invited you to my realm.”

“You didn’t,” Death says with a smirk. “Y/n did.”

You smile at Dream sheepishly. “We wanted to carve pumpkins, and this was the easiest place for Delirium to find.”

Delirium, the youngest sibling of the Endless, is currently staring intently at her pumpkin with her tongue poking out of her mouth as she draws on it with a marker. Nobody questions what it is she is attempting to accomplish.

“You are…carving pumpkins,” Dream observes, as if you didn’t just tell him what you’re doing. You share a look with Death over the table when he’s not looking, as if to say ‘men.’ “Why?”

“Because it’s almost Halloween!” you say cheerfully. “Surely you’ve seen jack-o’-lanterns in people’s dreams before.”

“I have. Though, I believe they were turnips and not pumpkins.”

You laugh. “Your sister told me the same thing, but that was also, like, two hundred years ago. You really need to get out more.”

“You wanna carve one, little brother?”

Morpheus shakes his head politely before sitting down next to you in a seat that he conjures from thin air. “I am more than content to just watch, thank you.”

And watch he does, though you think he watches how you interact with his sisters more than he watches the actual pumpkin carving. You can tell that this simple act, of you spending time with his blood, means a lot to him. If anybody has a complicated family, it’s the Endless. You know that they haven’t always been on the best of terms, even he and Death, and so it’s important to you that you accept his family as you’ve accepted him.

Though, you do still find it difficult to spend time with Desire, since they’re very conniving and just not a very good person. You’re working on it, though.

“I’m FiNiShEdDdDdD!” Delirium finally trills before turning her pumpkin around with her delicate hands to face you. “WhAt Do YoU tHiNk? ShE lOoKs LiKe ShE wOuLd MaKe A gOoD fRiEnD!”

She’s carved the features of a jack-o’-lantern’s face over and over again, creating a pumpkin with mouths, noses, and eyes that are in a variety of positions they are not typically found in and sideways or upside-down. After studying it for a moment, you look up and grin. “Looks great, Del. Want me to put a candle in it so that you can see it lit up?”

Delirium squeals and nods, her red curls bouncing around her face. When you place one of the electric tea lights inside the pumpkin and turn it so that she can see her masterpiece, she claps her hands together in excitement. Butterflies and tiny fish fly around her, the visible manifestation of said excitement. “I lOvE iT! dOn’T yOu ThInK iT lOoKs FaNtAbUlOuS, dReAmY? dEaTh?”

“It looks wonderful, sister,” Morpheus dutifully says.

“Fantabulous, indeed,” Death adds.

As Delirium chatters on about pumpkins and pumpkin pie and oh, the time that she found herself in a giant pumpkin with mice like Cinderella, Death listening good-naturedly, you glance over to see Dream watching you. You smile at him and kiss his cheek.

“Sorry for not asking before inviting your sisters into your realm.”

“Do not apologize. I find myself glad that you are on good terms with my sisters.” He lays a hand on top of yours. “Thank you for being so open to spending time with them. It means a lot, not only to them, but to me as well.”

“I like Death and Delirium. They’re fun to hang out with. Plus, they tell me embarrassing stories about you.”

He smirks. “Ah, so that’s been your plan all along?”

“It’s a fun, unexpected little perk.” You look over at Merv before looking at your pumpkin, making sure you’ve got his left eye just right. “Now, care to watch as I recreate your janitor on an inanimate pumpkin?”

As expected, Dream does more of watching you than he does watching the actual carving. Not that you mind, though.

#dream of the endless imagine #dream of the endless x reader #dream of the endless #morpheus imagine #morpheus x reader #morpheus #the sandman #the sandman imagine

[paddockbunny]

Could you write something for the drivers that would like a bookish girl? Please. I’ve never requested before

Bookish

Summary : Lewis loves how much of an avid reader you are but he particularly loves how immersed in the text you get and sometimes this can lead to other “activities” Rating : 16+ but with caution (see TWs) Pairing : Lewis Hamilton x Reader Word Count : 1, 165 Trigger Warnings : Not many but light sexual themes at the end, implied sex Authors Note : Trying something a little different with this one! & I’ll just tag @the-lazy-leprechaun cause it’s a Lulu one

Request Answer - Lewis!

Lewis would find your love of reading incredibly sexy and you would often look up from the pages of your book to see him staring at you with a familiar adoring look on his face that bordered upon lustful

He liked how you really got into philosophical books and often read out long passages to him that struck something inside of you.

But along with the philosophical books you also loved reading about psychology and had passed on to him some magnificent insights into the power of thought and mentality.

So really, the books you read always manage to help him by simply understanding the greater points in life and what really matters.

But aside from that one of reasons he loves the fact you read so much is the fact he loves to be able to hold a meaningful, real conversation with you.

It would be easy to surround himself with superficial, vapid people so the fact that he has someone like you at home that is so intelligent and thoughtful really ignites him.

Scenario :

You smile. These were the days you loved the most. Simply lounging at home, relaxing, with Lewis. You look up from the pages of your book to see him returning to the plush cloud-like sofa with a cup of steaming hot tea in his hand, for you of course. “I thought you’d like a refreshment.” He lulled as he placed it down on the coffee table for you before sitting down near you - but not next too you - on the sofa. Initially you wondered why until he done his usual thing of tapping you on the knee to lift your legs and place your feet in his lap. You let a delighted sigh roll from the back of your throat as he pulled off your slippers and gently, with just the right amount of pressure, Lewis started massaging your tootsies delicately. Initially you watched, always rather pleasantly surprised at how good he was at it, before you turned your attention back to the words on the page of your book.

As you drank your tea, read your book and received a spa worthy foot massage you felt completely and utterly relaxed beyond words and you realised this was the environment Lewis provided for you. He made things so calm and peaceful when he was home and spending time with you. It had been one of the things you had been nervous of when things turned serious with him. You were whisked off your feet to begin with and things were go, go, go for quite a while till you cracked somewhat and had to create some resemblance of tranquility for yourself amongst a new, sometimes exciting yet fast paced lifestyle. Coincidentally, you also managed to help provide the same for Lewis which he showed you over and over how much he appreciated you for it.

Placing your nearly empty cup back down on the coffee table, you smiled at the passage you had just read. “Lewis,” you say gently “listen to this…” and you begin to read him the two pages that seemed to strike you as profoundly interesting and thought it quite a fitting extract for the struggles and disappointments he had had in the most recent reasons car. Glancing up now and then, you saw the words registering with Lewis. You could see it in his eyes that he completely understood what you were reading and comprehending it in his own way. Once you were done he smiled and asked you what you thought about it. You explained you took it as a discussion of relativity and how important it was to remember the bigger picture. When you finished explaining to him what your opinion was he was looking at you in that very familiar way that made butterflies start fluttering away in the bottom of your stomach. Even after all this time Lewis always had a knack of making you feel giddy, borderline nervously excited, more than anyone else. The look written on his face meant several things. Sometimes it meant he was amused by you. Other times it meant he was astounded by you. And occasionally it meant he was simply turned on by you by what you gathered was down to your comprehension and intelligence - something which also made you feel proud of all the hard work you put into yourself. Today, you waited to find out outcome would come from his look.

Your book was quickly forgotten on the floor as Lewis slipped between the legs you opened to accommodate his body. His tongue coasted along your bottom lip, hinting he wanted admittance into your mouth to deepen the action. The kiss itself was slow and steady. He had all the time in the world to kiss you, and he wanted to make sure you knew it. When you finally gave into him and allowed him access too your mouth, to your tongue, he caressed yours with his and the soft moan that rolled from the back of your throat gave him a jolt of satisfaction. Your hands - which had been resting on his sides - slid lazily up his chest, glided gently over his shoulders and slithered around his neck. With Lewis’ braids down you allowed yourself the opportunity to wind your fingers around them and play with them how you liked to do. There was something so comforting about how they felt and you could feel how happy the rest of your body felt while your fingertips enjoyed themselves. But Lewis suddenly rolled your bottom lip between his teeth and pulled a louder delighted sigh from you which gave him the push he both wanted and needed.

“Let’s go to bed.” He suggested after his mouth had trailed down to your neck. “Lew, it’s only 3pm.” A small giggle left you but he suddenly, without warning, he rolled his hips and ground his hardened sweatpants covered cock against your clothed core. An inexplicable rush coursed rapidly throughout your entire body. “Do I need to say anything else?” His voice was laced with pure pride in knowing he could so easily change your mind with a pure unashamed action like the one he had just done. You opened your eyes to see the look he had earlier when you had glanced up to see him looking at you as you read to him, was there again but this time it was stronger and much more lustful. You didn’t need to say yes - or anything at all for that matter - because Lewis was already lifting you off the sofa to head off to bed before you even had a second to process the idea of a mid day lovemaking. But now that you were standing and could see the effect you had had on him in all his strained sweats glory, you couldn’t wait to get to bed and have him between your thighs to remedy the dull ache that had settled between them.

#Lewis Hamilton #Lewis Hamilton fanfiction #Lewis Hamilton fanfic #Lewis Hamilton fic #Lewis Hamilton imagine #Lewis Hamilton blurb #Lewis Hamilton imagines #lewis hamilton x you #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton x y/n #f1 fanfiction #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #f1 imagines #f1 imagine #f1 blurb #f1 one shot #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 x y/n

[pietropudge]

we need a series of the onlypreds professor PLEASE

part 2! (read part 1 here -> lessons)

a/n — decided to make these a bit shorter to keep up with posting, plus I'm juggling some longer requests, so the vore in this one is also quite short. I promise, Mr. Grayson will get feed good in a future part!

summary — So, your teacher is a pred... it can't be all bad, right?

words — 1.8k (again, shorter, sorry!)

warnings — vore! anal vore and some light smut (not proofread)

~~~

It had been about two weeks since you learned that your favorite teacher was a world-class predator. Well, if you count the forty-one and dwindling subscribers to be the entire world. In Mr. Grayson’s eyes, they might as well be. So many videos already existed of him devouring people on OnlyPreds, which was proof enough that the whole world could be in danger of his appetite, no matter your popularity or status or wealth. It only determined what cut of meat you were to him, from ground chuck to a flake of tenderloin. All of it was just seasoning, tenderness, and irrefutable texture on his tongue, vitamin E from the fat in the human body for his large loads of cum, and most importantly, the feeling of being full for his ass.

You had oriented yourself well to his needs, taking up the responsibility of grading all of his papers and assignments so that he could spend his days and slow class periods perusing the halls and high rises of various apartments in search of his next snack. It was like opening the cupboards at home and expecting the food to reappear as he checked in each restroom, doing his usual sweep when he didn’t have a class to teach. Normally, the teachers were simply expected to check the student bathrooms for vaping and kids that were ballsy enough to ditch class but still show up at school. If they were found doing any sort of drug-related or blatantly culpable activities, then they had to take a walk with the teacher to the principal's office. But Mr. Grayson was different. He appended himself to some rules, but he knew that others didn’t work. Punishments the school administered weren’t enough to really change the youth in the way that he wanted to see it happen. So, he frequented the restrooms to catch and instill a level of fear that the school wasn’t willing to take the lengths to go to.

Arnie—his name was. Mr. Grayson had seen him taking several hits of his vape upon entering the bathroom. He tried to hide it up the sleeve of his hoodie, the cuff being taut enough to hold it against his wrist. Mr. Grayson moved to the opposite side of the bathroom, pretending to stand at a urinal and relieve himself with his pants unbuttoned and lowered. His now-untucked dress shirt was the only thing preventing his ass from being exposed to the harsh fluorescents of the school bathroom, one move away from being vulnerable. But he was more like a predator circling his prey in the final stand-off, Arnie still stiff as he washed his hands with the thin vape being just one wrong move from slipping out and exposing himself. 

One waits for the hiss—the initiating attack. As Arnie turned the faucet handle, he went for the hand dryers along the wall that connected the polar sides of the room. It was waist-high, his hands naturally sitting level with the hungry hole covered by a thin veil of fabric. Mr. Grayson met him in the middle, lifting up his shirt so Arnie’s wet hands would go someplace warm, but not to dry. It was almost avoidable, but the swiftness of Mr. Grayson and the careful—yet slow—motions of the student as he maneuvered with care to keep his vape suspended meant that his hands couldn’t pull away fast enough. His wet hands made it easy to slip right into Mr. Grayson’s crack, his hole doing the rest of the work to pull them in all the way up to his wrists, wrapped around them tighter than his sleeves. They detained him like a thick pair of handcuffs. 

“And what’s that I feel?” Mr. Grayson clenched his cheeks, pressing Arnie’s wrists closer together so that he could feel the mouthpiece of his vape digging into his palmar. It ended up slipping out of his sleeve and onto the floor, just out of Arnie’s reach, and that’s when the dread started to build. 

Arnie spewed out the usual pleas about how “he wouldn’t do it again!” He promised, cried, and begged all the way until his face was pulled in, followed by the rest of him. Mr. Grayson particularly favored the part where Arnie’s cheeks were smushed against his own, his speech slurred and muffled as he twisted his head in every direction to avoid going into the dark depths of his ass. It only added to the pleasure felt, each hot breath exhumed in a panic only made him think about snuffing it out. Mr. Grayson also liked to think that he represented something to those who couldn’t stay clean, showing them how shitty things could really get.

All the while, he filled you in on this as you were forced to stay after class, listening to his symphony of belches on a loop. He let you sit at his desk while he sat on the desk, threatening to split the wooden parts of it down the middle with his extra weight. You had to tell your job that you needed fewer shifts on the schedule in order to finish the workload Mr. Grayson dumped on you. To think that all of this started because you found his dirty little secret, which felt more as if he was holding it over your head. Of course, he was still making you pay to watch his illicit recordings. He made you pay for these talks, too, where he filled you in on every excruciating detail that he could find to make you squirm. You pressed your legs together underneath the desk in an attempt to alleviate the hard-on he was giving you.

“And then he was, lighten up a little!” Your teacher laughed, eyes following your motions as you flipped through another student’s essay. “It’s almost like you don’t care about me being well-fed. He felt great, his bones really snapped into place. I think he learned his lesson.”

"Oh, here, I saved this for you," he said, reaching to presumably his back pocket, taking a second to dig out the aforementioned vape from his story and place it on the desk. "I had to confiscate it, so it might taste a little like my hole, if you know what I mean. Just don't let me catch you hitting it." He was back to laughing at his own jokes.

You were too busy trying to finish the work he had given you. You couldn’t leave—well, you hadn’t tried, but the possible result of doing so seemed to be futile—until the work was done. Entertaining wasn’t a requirement to finishing the work, so you focused on getting the final paper before you done. It was turned in by a kid who wasn’t as verbose as his peers, only filling the front and back of a singular page with his written report. This last paper would be your key to going home for the night if you weren’t interrupted by the predator whose thighs and stomach filled half the damn desk you worked on. Slowly, his weight was peeled from the desk and he came closer to you. Mr. Grayson’s hand wheeled the chair out from between the desk to expose your lap, his little story about his latest meal making you pitch a tent. “I think you need to learn yours.”

“Relax, I’m not going to eat you… or, am I?” He snickered, his ass planted firmly in your lap. You were still unsure of his intentions, and he could play with them easily. What was left of Arnie filled the space between your two bodies. It was enough to rest your arms on, but you kept your elbows and forearms glued to the armrests. The rumblings of his stomach could still be felt on your chest. “Besides, there’s something else I want you to listen to.”

Mr. Grayson started grinding down on your crotch, stimulating you through the bottoms you chose to wear today. The motions of him pressing against you elicited another burp from him that went directly to your face. “I need help growing my audience. I don’t know if you noticed, but I’ve been getting less engagement. You’re a… you know. What could I do to grow it? I got the eating part down, but I just need the viewers.”

“I’d start with some thirst traps. Anonymously, of course. Maybe a page for your ass? Fuck, I don’t know…” You knew that you needed some kind of release. The weight of him, the way it was almost crushing every bone he sat on, his legs split to make room for his stomach, which was a concoction of gurgles and physical shifts as it moved the processed remains of your classmate inside through the bends of his intestines. Just the physical touch alone from that was enough to drive you to the edge, a far cry from what his videos did to you every night.

“You can do better…” He said, rocking his hips against you faster.

Another wave of meaty breath his against you, repulsive and reeking of copper and salty meat from his latest meal. You offered another idea to him,  “I’ll start a rumor?”

“Better…” He said, ceasing movement. The idea wasn’t good enough for him.

“Make a gainer account? You can fill your belly—fuck—pretty well.” Your hips pressed up into his immovable weight. “And you keep adding on to your ass a lot, so the results would draw people in. Plus, you can post it across a shit ton of websites. Not just OnlyPreds. You—you can tease them with the aftermath of your meals, too. Cut off the videos right before it gets good?”

“That’s good.” He said, bringing himself back to his feet and depriving you of his sensations. He was already listening to you by cutting things off just before they got good. “I’ll finish this paper, you go on home and take care of that.”

You grabbed your school supplies, heading out into the dark of night. School ended at three on the dot, and here you were, working the clock to help out your teacher. Your car sputtered and fought with you all the way until you got home, most of it caused by the neediness you had to come. By the time you pulled into the driveway, your phone had buzzed with several notifications in the cupholder of your car. There was either an impossible walk into your house, or, you could just look at them right now. 

Lo and behold, a post was uploaded already. Mr. Grayson must have lived closer to the school than you because he had already made a new account with his first post. It was pretty standard—a few pictures of his belly and a full backside view to show all of the ways his gains benefitted him. The account was under the same name as his OnlyPreds—good, that was good for traction. You could feel yourself pitching a tent already… yeah, the more content, the better for you. Maybe being his bitch wouldn’t be so bad.

#male prey #male pred #male vore #v.ore #digestion #v0r3 #vore x reader #v0re #same size vore #fatal #nightwing vore #dick grayson vore