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astraystayyh · 8 months

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Say yes to me

after your seven minutes in heaven, hyunjin wants to plan out how he'll finally confess to you. except you come knocking on the door of his rented cabin unannounced. at 10:53 pm. the perfect time for love, he comes to learn.

pt. 2 of say yes to heaven. highly recommend reading it first (it's short i promise and it sets the mood ajsjd)

a.n: and if i told y'all i wrote this in one go... when i say hyune possesses me i MEAN it... these two pics sit at the same table for me, and three people asked for a second part and i can't say no to you guys!! ENJOY, feedback is highly appreciated as always <33

There are a lot of things that Hyunjin wishes he could say to you.

How he loves you is first.

Hyunjin never planned on keeping secrets from you. Ones he carefully tucked away at the corner of his mouth, ready to spill each time your gaze met his.

He still remembers when it all started vividly- how the friendship blossomed into something more for him, the way petals shyly unfurl on the first days of spring.

You were sitting next to him on the bench of your favorite park, ice cream in your hands. Hyunjin intently watched as you rambled about your latest essay, and the world seemed to fall into a tranquil silence, save for the sound of your voice.

Hyunjin suddenly found himself enthralled by the way the sunlight gently grazed your cheeks, painting them with the softest golden hue. One he tried to replicate many times in his paintings, but to no avail, as they could never live up to you.

How the light breeze danced upon your hair, swaying it gently from left to right. How your lips moved with each word, pulling him into an unyielding trance. Those very lips that graced his skin with kisses, months later, scorching themselves into his memory.

Sometimes it still felt surreal, almost too good to be true, that you left traces of yourself on him. That he had you graze his jaw and collarbones, tentatively, as if you were afraid to dive in fully. "I'd catch you", he wanted to say, "even if it meant I'd drown in the process."

He wasn't ashamed to admit that he took a picture of the lipstick stains you left on him. He didn't even realize they were there at first, that is until he went to Changbin's bathroom. There, under the dim lighting, he found that the blush creeping up his neck matched the shade of your lipstick. His body seamlessly entwined itself with everything that made you.

He felt like a shaky tree branch at your hands- dainty leaves falling at your feet, each one scribbled with love notes for you. And he could no longer contain this feeling within him. He was tired of this five month old secret. He wanted to be an open book, one you could read or toss around, as long as you'd touch it.

But he needed to gather his thoughts and plan how he'd say it. How he'd free this scary confession from the confines of his heart. He told you that you'd talk about it later, and it's already been twelve days since he's last seen you. He had to do it soon.

So he went to his cabin, the one he rents on the weekends when he needs to get away from the world. It's small, nestled away in a remote part of the town, with a golden chandelier dangling in its living room- it's where Hyunjin feels most like himself.

Hyunjin doesn't hear your car pulling up into the driveway. Or your hurried steps to the door. But he hears your urgent knocks, and he's confused as he pushes the doorknob down. Then he's worried when he notices that it's you, with puffy eyes and a slightly runny nose.

For a moment, he stood there, too stunned to articulate a proper question. You don't give him the time to properly organize his thoughts, anyways, as you take timid steps towards him, before wrapping your arms around his waist. Your cheek rests against his chest, right above his heart, and you're crying. Hyunjin can tell from the slight tremors coursing through your body; the very one he's hugging right now, tightly, securely, until you're pressed to him, like two pages of the same book.

His large hands are rubbing soothing circles on your back, and a myriad of questions swirls in his mind. But they can wait, until you stop crying- the one sight that can bleed his heart dry.

"You- you said we'd talk later," you say through hiccups, as Hyunjin's hand moves to the back of your head, gently smoothing down your hair.

"I did," he hums, slightly rocking you from left to right.

"Then why didn't you? You just... stayed silent. For two weeks."

"Twelve days."

"Hyune," you whine and he giggles slightly, pressing a soft kiss onto your temple.

"I'm sorry. I didn't know you were waiting for me."

"Of course, I was," you lean back, the sides of his black shirt scrunched up in your hands. "I was tipsy but I... I remember."

"What do you remember?" he asks, as his thumb gently brushes away your trailing tears. He knows what happened that night, he replayed those seven minutes in his head so much that he could recite them by heart. Every breath you took, every shaky exhale you let out. He remembers it all too well.

"What you said to me."

His eyes soften at the quiver in your tone. "Why are you crying then, hm?"

"Because you didn't talk to me and I thought you didn't mean it. And I- I can't handle anyone else lying to me. Especially you."

Hyunjin shakes his head, as the strings of his heart dance to the erratic rhythm of his pulse.

"I could never lie to you. Not when it comes to this," he says with the utmost sincerity he can muster. He pauses, a gentle smile etched on his lips. "I have tea."

"Tea sounds good," you respond quietly.

"Come in, then."

He let goes of you, but you remain close, your shadows merging together on the wooden floor. Hyunjin smiles softly at the sight- he too wishes he could become one with you.

His hands are shaking slightly as he brings the water to a boil. You're wandering around, admiring the cozy interior, and the questions in Hyunjin's head can't seem to stop. What does this mean? he wants to ask. Do you want me like I want you? But he bites his tongue. Not until you've fully calmed down.

One minute.

"Here," he says, handing you a steaming cup of Jasmine tea. He leans his head against the wooden wall, as the steam fogs up his glasses.

"Thank you," you smile, settling into the seat opposite of him. "I like your ponytail."

"Oh," his hands reach up instinctively to his hair, tugging slightly at the ends of it. "It kept getting in my eyes so I tied it up."

"It suits you," you smile softly, and Hyunjin finds that the galaxy's stars are all shimmering in your eyes. He imagines the milky way weeping for the loss of its twinkling lights; but they look prettier in you, he thinks.

"How did you know I was here?" he asks, bringing the sweet drink to his mouth.

"Changbin told me," you reply.

Hyunjin nods, his eyes holding yours over the rim of his cup. He's nervous, a shaky mess from within, and he's unfolding right in front of you.

Two minutes.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"Do you believe in love at first sight?"

His question seems to take you off guard. Your eyes slightly widen, before softening around the edges.

"It seems too unrealistic. But I'd like to think it exists. And you?"

"Despite being a hopeless romantic..." Your chuckle interrupts his words, and he finds that the sound of your laugh is much warmer than the drink in his hand. "I never believed in it. Because love is much deeper than a superficial level. It could be infatuation or a crush. But not love," he pauses, idly circling the rim of his cup with his finger. "But then I realized I was wrong."

His eyes captivate yours as he leans back, his sole attention on you. "They don't call it love at the first look, but rather love at first sight... You know, the first time you truly see someone. And I saw you."

Your breath hitches in your throat.

Three minutes.

"I saw you. I see you. how kind, gentle, and full of life you are. How you turn the most mundane sceneries into extraordinary ones, because your eyes are filled with colors we cannot see. But I saw them through you."

He smiles softly, his hand reaching out to the middle of the table, right where yours rested. His thumb gently grazes your palm, as he starts to speak again.

"It hurt me to see you with someone else. But he made you smile, at least at first. And I love your smile, so I was happy for you despite it. Because you deserve joy in your life, even if I'm not the one behind it. But then he hurt you," he pauses, his eyes tightly shut as if it physically pained him to utter these words. "And it hurts me to see you in pain. Because you deserve a love as gentle as you."

Four minutes.

"Hyune..." you trail off, and he shakes his head, a reassuring smile on his face.

"You don't have to say anything. You're confused and still hurt but I just needed you to know that."

"Know what?" you ask breathlessly, your hand now on top of his. You're hanging desperately onto his every word, you needed to hear it.

"That I love you."

Your fingers intertwine with his, and Hyunjin believes he has never truly breathed before this moment.

"I want to love you too, I do," you're quick to say. "You make me feel safe like I could hand you my heart and you wouldn't hurt it. But you also make me feel alive and I regret not seeing you first. Not when my love was still whole and not bruised."

"So you could love me?" he asks, a beaming smile brightening his face.

"I came crying to you because I thought you left me, and I couldn't bear it. You have your answer," you giggle sheepishly.

Five minutes.

"And you want to love me?"

"I do. I want to see you and notice a new detail about you every day. But I'm so scared, Hyunjin."

"It's okay to be scared. I don't want to rush you. I can wait."

"What if you get bored? Or if someone else catches your eye. I can't ask that of you."

Hyunjin squeezes your hand and the thoughts in your head go silent.

"I've waited for months for you. If it's you I get at the end then I can wait for an eternity."

"So you'll do it?" you smile incredulously. "You'll wait by my side?"

"Mm. I will."

Six minutes.

You're both quiet for a while, and he's too lost in you to count down the seconds. But then you clear your throat.

"Can we start waiting tomorrow?" you suddenly ask, walking up to him.

"What do you mean?" Hyunjin questions, the butterflies in him fluttering so intensely he's close to flying away.

"We're both here now," you whisper, as you sit beside him, his thigh brushing against yours. He licks his lips nervously.

"Can I try something?" you ask again, but this time you aren't drunk. You are less heartbroken and more sure of your feelings for him. You want this.

"I'm yours."

Your fingers reach up to cup his face, thumb grazing his cheeks gently. His hands hold your waist, beckoning you closer.

"I see you," you whisper, placing a kiss on the corner of his mouth. "I'm sorry it took me so long to see you."

"Love at first sight," he responds breathlessly as your lips graze his, and his heart threatens to burst out of his chest- they'll find your name carved in his veins.

"I believe in it now, Hyune," you grin, before crashing your lips onto his.

Seven minutes.

There are a lot of things Hyunjin wished he could say to you. Sappy things, like how he believes you invented colors, that it drips down from your fingertips grazing his skin- explaining the red and yellow dots dancing before his closed eyes.

How everything seems to be heightened with you- the taste of the Jasmine tea imprinted on your lips, or the breaths escaping his body, eager to be released and to finally mingle with yours.

Or that he wishes that you were wearing your red lipstick so that your mark on him would last longer. A physical token of what you do to his heart.

But there was also much simpler words he wanted to say, ones that he managed to whisper in between tender kisses- "thank you for seeing me."

One year.

Your arms encircle Hyunjin's broad back, as you rest your cheek on his shoulder blade. "You know it's criminal for you to look this good in a simple white tee," you sigh wistfully, Hyunjin's perfume enveloping you both in an intimate cocoon.

"Good thing I'm yours then," he chuckles and you beam in reply, although he can't see you. Hyunjin is yours- he waited just like he promised he would. And now you're back in his cabin, where it all began, and he's making you Jasmine tea.

"And I am yours," you plant a kiss on his back and he turns around, a wide smile on his face.

There is still a sense of relief you find sometimes in Hyunjin's features when you tell him that you love him. As if he can't still quite believe it, even after a year of dating. It is the look traced on his face right now- a slight awe as he looks down at you.

"You said yes to me," he says so faintly, as if speaking to no one but himself, and you nod, placing a gentle kiss on his wrist.

"I'll always say yes to you."

#skz x reader #stray kids x reader #skz imagines #stray kids imagines #stray kids imagine #stray kids scenarios #skz scenarios #hwang hyunjin x reader #hyunjin x reader #hyunjin imagines #skz fluff #stray kids fluff #hwang hyunjin fluff #hyunjin fluff #stray kids fanfic #skz reactions

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natailiatulls07 · 16 days

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Can you please do plationic drivers with redbull driver reader and she has all the older drivers and team principals especially Christian wrapped around her finger and can never get in trouble and the younger drivers made it their mission to get them to see she’s not innocent but it always backfires? 🤷‍♀️

OC x Driver!reader Lando Norris x Platonic!reader Oscar Piastri x Platonic!reader Logan Sargeant x Platonic!reader

Summary - The request above x

Warning - Slight smut

A/n - I change it slightly from the request because I feel like I don't write enough Mercedes!reader

Reader drives for Mercedes

Mercedes driver, Y/n L/n was loved. She had many people wrapped around her pinky finger; including Fernando Alonso, Lewis Hamilton and her team principal, Toto Wolff. It’s safe to say that she got the best princess treatment imaginable.

Of course with this treatment, many thought of her as spoiled and also thought she got away with too much both off and on track. Including other drivers such as Oscar Piastri, Logan Sargeant and especially Lando Norris. They were all a bit suspicious of her.

It was media day. Around the sofa in the conference room sat the two McLaren boys, Logan Sargeant and Carlos Sainz. The press conference was scheduled to begin ten minutes ago, yet it was being held off. Why? Because Princess Mercedes hadn’t arrived yet.

They were all just waiting for her. Unlike the younger drivers on the sofa next to him, Carlos was patient and was desperately trying to reason as to why Y/n was late to the others. Only getting several groans, eyerolls and annoyed frowns from them in return.

“Mate, just admit it. This is annoying, she’s wasting our time” Lando argued back with his old teammate.

But was unsuccessful when Carlos just shook his head before defending her again. “She had a hard weekend last week, we have to be patient with her…” Y/n didn’t have a hard weekend, far from it. She got on the podium but not her usual position of first place, only being able to finish the race in third. Logan couldn’t believe how manipulated Carlos was by the Mercedes driver.

Standing from his seat, Oscar pulled the others' attention towards him. All of them looked at him with confused frowns. “I’m going to find her, she has to be around here. Anyone joining me?” And suddenly the confused frowns on Logans and Landos face turned to smirks that matched Oscars.

All three drivers made their way out of the conference room and through the paddock to the Mercedes motorhome. It was a surprise for the Mercedes team and other people in the paddock to see two papaya drivers and one dark blue driver entering the motorhome.

Some of the team tried to stop the boys from climbing the stairs up to Totos office and the two drivers' rooms but were unable to stop them. So once they got up the stairs, it was Toto's turn to be confused.

“Uh excuse me, you shouldn’t be up here…” He tried to reason with them but couldn’t. “Seriously you can’t be-” He was cut off by Lando asking a question.

“L/n? Where is her driver room? She’s late for the press conference…” Logan could see how Totos' eyes softened at the mention of one of his drivers before pointing down the small hall to the last door on the right. “Thanks.”

With big strides in his step Lando followed by the other two, made his way to the Y/n’s driver room. Banging his fist on the door loudly, they could hear some intimate noises. The smirk deepened on his face and his eyes widened.

I wasn’t meant to get intimate with my personal trainer. It was just that he was there, we had that tension between us.

One second, I was finishing up my instagram live. And next…I was half naked and laid under Don on my sofa. Upon hearing movement outside my door, my whines and moans were quietened.

We were having fun, both of us feeling aroused by the whole thing. Yes, it was risky but that added to it. Smirks were painted on our faces and our eyes were on each other. The two of us in our sexual heavens, it was like nothing could break us from that.

Except a loud banging on my door. I sit up. Clutching my chest protectively and eyes widening. I look over to Don. He’s rushing to pull on his boxers and teamwear.

Luckily I had pulled a nearby blanket over myself and Don had his boxers on when Lando followed by Logan and Oscar had crashed through my door. All three of them with chester cat smirk on their faces.

Lando’s the first to speak out of everyone. “Ah ‘innocent Mercedes driver caught mid make out with her personal trainer’ Imagine that all over twitter…” He chuckles, slowly stepping backwards ready to parade around the paddock with this new scandalous piece of information.

Leaping forward, holding the blanket around myself, I grasp onto his wrist. My eyes piercing into his own. This would ruin me, I couldn’t have my innocent image tainted. “Please Lando! Don’t do this!”

He only replies with a shameless giggle, shaking off my hand and rushing out of the room, with the other two hot on his tail, back to Toto. Almost giving myself whiplash, I turn to look over to Don. Our eyes widened and panicky.

With the identical look in our eyes, we both move quickly to put everything back in order and to make it seem like nothing happened. I’m quick to pull on my teamwear with Don doing the same with his own. A swift look in the mirror helps me smoothen my hair down and wipe away the soft smeared makeup on my face.

Only managing to breath out a sigh of relief before we hear the sound of rushed footsteps again. Toto and Lewis softly open the door, behind them I can see the others trying to hold in their smirks.

The older two both look confused as me and Don both feign innocence. “Hey guys, is there something wrong? Me and Don were just going over my new diet” Speaking softly, I know that I will win this. I watch as Toto shakes his head and gives me a sweet smile.

“Oh nothing, these three trespassers claimed you guys were uh…” An awkward tension falls in the air. He was too embarrassed to continue the sentence so in order to help him out I just frown my eyebrows and shake my head innocently.

Behind them, I can see the smirks falling from Landos, Logans and Oscars. They know immediately that they’ve lost. It’s hard for me to hold in my laughter but I manage to do it. “All good, we were just finishing actually…” I turn my back to the five and I face Don, now letting a smirk make its way on my face. “Thank you Don, I will be sure to start on that new diet”

Don nods softly, aware that his boss and the other drivers can all see his facial expressions so he leaves it to a small gentle smile. “Of course, well if you excuse me I have to go. Bye Y/n, bye everyone…”

We all watch as he makes his way out of my room and down the hall, followed closely by Toto and Lewis. This gives me a chance to smirk at Lando, Oscar and Logan who all look defeated. “Don’t we have a press conference to get to? Wouldn't want to be late right?” I quip cheekily in a gentle whisper.

#formula one #formula one x reader #f1 x reader #f1 #formula 1 #formula 1 x reader #lando norris #oscar piastri #logan sargeant #toto wolff #lewis hamilton #carlos sainz #lando norris x reader #oscar piastri x reader #logan sargeant x reader #formula one x y/n #formula one x you #f1 x y/n #f1 x you

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gay-dorito-dust · 26 days

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More of Dami trying to hide his partner from his family? Like maybe one day he tries to sneak into their house or something?

After the library incident Damian had learnt three things; changing his passcode, and keeping his phone on hand at all times when within the presence of his chaotic siblings, and be aware of who’s in the room when he puts his phone down.

He had to applauds their attempts but he was inevitably several steps ahead of them as usual.

However this time it was a little different as Damian would be spending the night at your house, which is something Damian was downright nervous about, seeing as he wasn’t the type of guy people would usually bring home for an impromptu sleepover.

It wasn’t like he was scared of your parent(s) because he’s met them once or twice before and had gotten along with them quite well, but more so the fact that his father and siblings were patrolling in the nearby area and would likely spot him within a heartbeat. He didn’t feel like dealing with them and their shenanigans, especially not when he was trying to spend a lovely evening watching movies with his beloved, buried beneath several layers of warm blankets and plushies so soft they could’ve been easily mistaken for pillows.

He just wanted this evening with you to go perfectly without his siblings potentially ruining it. He loves them he really does, but not when they could potentially jeopardise your relationship with him. Hell he’d even curse their entire existence if that were to happen and make sure his sword is more than sharp during training just to prove that he wasn’t joking.

‘Damian?’ Your voice drew him out of his thoughts

‘Hmm?’

‘Are you okay? You’ve been kinda out of it this entire evening. Nothings wrong is there?’ You ask, voice showing concern for his well-being.

Truly you were an angel, bestowed to him by the heavens above to be his souls true and equal match. ‘I’m fine my beloved.’ He says as he holds your hand reassuringly in his. ‘While it’s true that I have been out of it for most of this evening, but rest assured that it’s nothing that you should worry yourself with.’

You still didn’t look convinced but dropped the subject for Damian’s sake and kissed his cheek. ‘Okay,’ you sighed as you snuggled yourself back into his arms, resting your head against his shoulder. ‘But you’d tell me if somethings bothering you, right?’ You asked.

‘There’s no one else’s I’d rather shoulder my burdens with than you my dear.’ Damian replied as he kisses the top of your head and getting comfortable himself, when he saw something outside your window through the slit of your bedroom curtains and squinted his eyes for a better look.

Stood atop of the roof of the building next door to you were his siblings and father, all dressed in their easily recognisable costumes, seemingly peering back at him.

However what made Damian uncharacteristically froze wasn’t the fact that his family might spotted him, but more so the fact as to why they were here because if they were here, then that must mean that the person that they were after…

Has been hiding out in your neighbourhood the entire time.

#dc imagine #dc x reader #dc x you #dc fanfic #dc fic #dc comics x reader #dc x y/n #dc fanfiction #damian wayne x y/n #damian wayne x you #damian wayne imagine #damian wayne x reader #damian wayne imagines #damian wayne fluff

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burnyouwithacigarettelighter · 8 months

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TOEING THE LINE ─── robert fischer ✧𖦹

ೃ⁀➷ “Love him. Love him and let him love you. Do you think anything else under heaven really matters?” — ‘Giovanni’s Room’, James Baldwin.

pairing. robert fischer x secretary!reader

summary. being robert’s secretary means doing everything for him. everything.

warnings. swearing, oral sex (m), creampie, p in v, mention of handjob, sex as stress relief, intimacy issues, quickies, crying, fluff, SMUT UNDER THE CUT!

word count. 6.8k

a/n. honestly this is just downright filth. robert & reader’s relationship/the way they treat each other is also a little confusing so i apologize LOL

Being Robert’s secretary means doing everything for him: sending congratulatory gifts to his clients, picking up his drycleaning, answering his emails, and even booking his dentist appointments.

It means doing everything he asks, and everything you think he needs; he trusts your judgment, he said, because you know more about him than anyone in the entire world — even himself.

It means doing everything for him. Everything.

Robert had heaved a large sigh as he sat down in the backseat of his car; undone his tie; ran a veiny hand through his gelled hair. From that much, you could tell he was stressed. You knew him like the back of your hand, and, after being his secretary for three years, you also knew what relieved him best.

Your lips are wrapped around his cock the moment he gets home.

You were kneeling between his legs, hands curling around the base of his cock and stroking whatever you couldn’t fit - which wasn’t much, your throat having long since been trained to take his length all the way.

Grunts and groans spilled out of his mouth above you, but you didn’t look at him; you never looked at him - he’d been adamant about that, when you first sucked him off. Robert never told you why, just that your gaze should never reach his; you thought it had something to do with his vulnerability, his parental issues rearing its ugly head in every part of his life, even his sexual one.

Robert’s hands wrapped around your wispy locks, giving you a makeshift ponytail, and you flicked small licks on his tip before descending back down on him. His grip on your hair tightened, and as you curled your warm tongue along his shaft, he began to bob your head up and down on him, faster, harder, hard enough tears formed in your eyes.

He was stressed, so he was rough. But you took it in stride: he was your boss, after all, paying you the big bucks for your service, be it actual secretarial duties or requests just a step away from prostitution.

You gag, once or twice, on account of how brutally the head of his cock is bruising the back of your throat, and Robert slows down; stills like he’s nervous you’ll break, but you continue expertly, focussing on lapping up the beads of precome spilling from his slit. You breathed in and out shakily, ignoring the ache in your jaw.

His hands then left your hair, instead fumbling for the armrests of the leather chair and squeezing down on them as his back arched and his head threw back: he was close.

When one of your hands left his length and reached down to fondle his balls, Robert let go, a stuttered moan leaving him, and he released his load straight down your throat. You felt it spurt and coat your mouth, wet and thick. The only thing left in the room was your breathing, his high and tinny, yours haggard and desperate for oxygen.

After a moment, you got up, noting how tight your legs felt while wiping a drop of come from the side of your mouth with your thumb. “Rest up, Mr. Fischer,” you insisted gently, resuming immediate professionalism, “you have a nine-o-clock with the head of Proclus Global tomorrow.”

Between breaths, Robert finally looked at you with heavy-lidded eyes, buttoning his dress pants back up. “Saito?” he wondered aloud.

You nodded silently in response. It was certainly odd to inform Robert about his schedule and meetings like you didn’t just have his hard cock in your mouth, but after three years it became part of the job. You reckon you could ride him and still arrange his doctors appointments by phone.

“I’ll see you in the morning, Mr. Fischer.” You addressed him with that title, ‘Mr. Fischer’, to keep a distance. Despite what you often did for him, you still considered yourself just his subordinate; just his secretary.

You then turned, kitten heels clacking quietly on his hardwood floor, primly and properly leaving his condo with the taste of his salty come still imprinted on your tongue.

ii.

By eight am sharp, you’ve returned to his condo. Robert would need a little more than what he got last night, especially since he’d be meeting Saito, like you said.

You mapped out his habits and what he was like a long, long time ago. He’s got a higher-than-average sex drive, but no time to be in a relationship with anyone — thus, your duties. Blowjobs after a long day and a quickie at least five times a week are a must, and never, ever, kiss him.

Robert’s… well, a slight sex addict, having to regularly fuck or get pleasured just to keep sane, but intimacy’s got him hiding under the covers like he’s just seen a ghost. You, on the other hand, can’t discern the difference between if you have sex and kiss or just have sex - it's both sex.

It’s just a thing that needs to be done in the end, and in Robert’s case, it’s like eating or sleeping: he needs it to live, so he gets it and lives. Simple as that. There are no feelings between you two, and it’s been that way for as long as you’ve been his secretary.

You entered Robert’s condo easily, having a key and all, where you then found him pacing in his large walk-in closet, fiddling with his rings.

You knocked lightly on the wall to alert him, stepping in when he noticed you and visibly relaxed. “Good morning, Mr. Fischer.” you stated, setting his drycleaning down on one of the velvet settee benches in the middle of the room.

“Morning,” Robert said absently. Without warning nor another word, he stepped closer to you, hands immediately pressing into your waist. His palms were sweaty, a feverish need radiating off him as he kneaded at you, pressing you against one of the many closet doors.

He was nervous, no doubt the result of the impending meeting with Saito, which equated a frenzied mood sexually. So, you wasted no time, quickly unbuckling his trousers and unzipping his fly, letting your stockings pool at your ankles, hiking your skirt up to your hips.

Robert’s hands grasped at your soft thighs, lifting a leg around him as one of your hands slipped down the waistband of his underwear, pulling his cock out. You pumped his length slowly, before spitting into your other hand, pushing your panties to the side and coating your cunt in the slick. You decorated your lips with the wetness, then carefully lined up his thick head with your entrance.

You bit your lip, wincing as he pushed in; no matter how many times you’d fucked — which was plenty — you always felt that stinging stretch when he first entered you.

From then on, Robert focussed solely on his own pleasure; on ridding himself of that anxious need, trying to fuck his insecure feelings deep into your cunt prior to seeing Saito. He grunted, a string of breathless curses leaving his mouth with every harsh thrust, just snapping his hips against yours repeatedly and chasing his high.

Your face was pressed flat against the shoulder of his cashmere suit jacket, and you shut your eyes, letting Robert use you - use your hole, specifically. You’d asked him once why he didn’t just masturbate or use a sextoy, and he told you that nothing beats a hot, wet cunt.

It didn’t matter to him what the girl looked like or what she cost, as long as her pussy felt good. That’s how he hired you: you’d spent an entire month by his side, and before returning to America from his vacation in Sydney, he confessed he’d never taken a cunt as delicious as yours. He didn’t have time to date, but he did have time for a secretary.

That was the most vulnerable you’d ever seen him, pleading for you to work under him, just so he could feel your plush pussy clenching around his cock once more. You’d never been a secretary before, but he promised you’d be taught, that the pay would be good, and that once he got married you could be whatever you wanted in the company - as long as, while you were still his secretary, you’d fuck him when he asked.

“Fuck,” Robert growled out near your ear, pounding mercilessly into your sopping cunt. Despite the selfishness of this quickie, him paying absolutely no mind to you, you couldn’t help how your mouth went ajar and your hips rutted into his.

Robert had the best dick you’d ever fucking felt, average length but girthy, stretching you wide open. That first time you’d fucked, the one night stand, he kept telling you how tight your cunt was around his thick cock, and the next time after that, he remarked how you were just as tight as before. He was impressed, it seemed, how after each round of splitting you open with his dick, you always seemed to tighten back up.

You bit your lip, fighting back any moans from leaving your mouth, and focussed on gripping your arms around Robert’s neck. You noted how one of his hands dug into you soft thighs, pulling you toward him and sliding in and out of you desperately, like he’d never fuck again, while his other hand came up to the crown of your head, petting you softly.

Though your mind was foggy with pleasure, you knew it was an out-of-character gesture: being gentle with you, acknowledging your presence rather than just your cunt. Robert wasn’t a romantic man - you didn’t think he knew how to romance someone, especially since his parents' marriage certainly wasn’t winning any awards for perfection.

So, just doing that had the gears in your mind turning. You’d fucked him for three years straight, and not for a moment did he ever do something like that.

But then, as you were building toward an orgasm, that familiar pull in your stomach sending heat over your body, begging to go faster, Robert came, jetting his creamy load deep within you — and you forgot all about his odd actions.

“Feel s’good,” he mumbled, fucking you still. You were unsure whether he meant his high or your cunt, but nonetheless, he came down from his orgasm by shoving his come deeper in your cunt with his length.

Then, “What - time is it?” he said breathlessly, quickly pulling his softening cock out of your pussy and turning away so as not to face you.

You blinked rapidly, leaning against the wall and trying to regain your composure, ignoring the grief swelling in your insides at the incompletion of your orgasm. “8– 8:10, sir.”

Robert hummed in acknowledgment, still not looking at you as he redressed himself. You took in your boss’s form, how quickly his attitude changed from desperate to stone cold after sex; after receiving what he needed, like a fucking transaction, and you suddenly felt shameful: this here was one of the most powerful men in the world, owner of Fischer Morrow, and there you were, his secretary and fucktoy he could replace at any time.

You weren’t special - you weren’t anything, especially not to him. If - no, when, he meets someone who pleasures him better, you’re out of a job. He said he’d help you when he got married, but you don’t think that’s happening anytime soon… and you know Robert: he’ll get tired of you, like the spoiled little kid he probably was, and will just find some other toy to play with.

“I’ll be waiting in the lobby, Mr. Fischer.” you informed him numbly after pulling up your panties and stockings, shakily stepping out of the walk-in closet. It wasn’t often you felt like this - this being pathetic and used, because on the surface, this job was perfection. Good pay, good reputation, a boss who fucks you - and fucks you good.

Sure, you could probably count on one hand how many times he made you come in these past three years, but it still felt nice, even if he never drove you past the edge. But, these days… you started wondering if this was the rest of your life.

You couldn’t get a boyfriend, no, not without lying to him about what you did for a living, and there was still that uncertainty in the stability of this job. Robert had deep parental and intimacy issues - as stated by his therapist, in which, after eight weeks of seeing him Robert left in a fitful, teary, suffocating rage - and, beneath his cold exterior, was a hotpot of bubbling emotions he never deigned to reveal until he was seconds away from blowing up.

In short: Robert was the most moody, unpredictable person you’d ever met, and working under him was like balancing on a tightrope. Because he never said what irritated him, always emotionlessly telling you to stop if he preferred you didn’t do something, you could never tell what was actually pushing all the wrong buttons.

Before waiting in his condo’s front lobby like you said, you ducked into one of his many bathrooms and wiped the warm come dripping down your leg, flushing as you saw the ruined state of your panties and stockings: his white load had smeared all over the fabric, and, while you could get most of it off your dark stockings, it stayed on your underwear.

You had to wear his come on your panties for the entire day, and in a way, it felt like Robert owned you.

That’s why… you had decided to quit. You wrote your two weeks three months ago and have been holding onto it ever since — because you didn’t know how to tell him you wanted to quit, especially since your heart didn’t want to.

Your head knew you were meant for more than secretarial duties and a quick fuck, but your heart ached for the lonely being that was Robert Fischer. That young CEO whose grievous relationship with his father was aired out in the newspaper, the man who went through succeeding the company as well as any young person could: fumbling, being crushed by the weight of his late father’s suffocating legacy, and the boy who didn’t know why he could never get his fathers love or approval.

The heart wants what it wants, but the head knows best. You resolved to hand him your resignation by the end of the day, listening to your head, and got ready to leave this part of your life behind; to leave Robert Fischer behind.

iii.

“What's this?” Robert asked in his office without looking up at you, gaze still trained on the papers he was signing. You had entered his office to deliver his mail and ask questions about various appointments - when best to schedule that lunch with his godfather, that kind of stuff.

And… to hand him your 2-weeks.

“It’s my 2-weeks, Mr. Fischer.”

“…What?” Robert set his weighted fountain pen down, looking up in disbelief.

“I’m resigning, sir.” You said gingerly, gaze trailing away from his own, ignoring how his expression went from neutral to crestfallen.

“I pay you well enough, I’m sure?” He said, sounding frantic and not doing the best job of hiding it with the shaky smile on his face.

“It’s not - about the pay. I’m just… I’m ready to do other things.”

There it was: you didn’t want to wait until he got tired of you and kicked you to the curb. This job was fucking comfortable, and that unnerved you. Working diligently, fucking him diligently, saving up money your younger self would’ve never thought could ever come your way - it was comfortable and you were used to it, but you just… couldn’t take it anymore.

You weren’t going anywhere like this. Not with Robert, not with your life, not with yourself. When you first took this job, you wanted to help him. Call it naive pity, but you thought the terribly mournful Robert Fischer could be fixed by getting fucked. God, your younger self had been out of her mind.

So, here you were, three years later and resigning from one of the wealthiest men in the world, heart begging you not to, head wanting to leave immediately.

Robert sighed, but nodded slightly. “Okay. Okay. I’ll send you your wages as soon as possible, and I can write a recommendation for your next—“

“There’s no need, Mr. Fischer,” you protested quietly. “My duties here weren’t exactly… just secretarial.”

Robert blanched, but agreed quietly. As you were about to leave, he spoke up. “Are you… free tonight?”

You tilted your head slightly, processing the topic change. “I have no plans for the evening, if that’s what you’re asking. I can come over after work—“

“No— no, not…” Robert grimaced, pressing two fingers between his eyes. “Proclus Global’s holding a charity gala. Tonight. Come with me; it’ll be your last event as my secretary.”

Your face warmed at your previous assumption he just wanted to fuck. “…Certainly, Mr. Fischer. There’s no need to ask, I’m obligated to agree.”

“I don’t… I don’t want to ruin any plans you have.” Robert’s lips pressed into a thin white line at your words. “If it - you don’t—“ He sighed, unable to say what he wanted properly, “You don’t have to say yes to everything I ask of you.”

“Work takes precedent, sir. You’re my boss - it’s only natural I follow orders.”

Then: “If that’s all,” you said, before promptly exiting his office, turning away and ignoring how crestfallen he looked.

It was normal for you to accompany him to various events, seeing as he was single, and you were his hot, young secretary — and it was an expected duty of yours after the first time you went with him.

You couldn’t figure out why his behavior had suddenly changed, why he’d become considerate— but perhaps it was because you were quitting. Although Robert’s emotional state was generally unpredictable, you supposed the professional part of him wanted to send you off nicely; have these last two weeks of yours not be soured.

Anyway, it seemed inviting Robert to the gala was what Saito was here for - and, presumably, to add some pressure onto Robert, since their companies were rivals. Robert was always… bothered, you could say, prior to seeing Saito.

The man made it a habit, consciously or unconsciously, to set Robert off, either by not-so-innocently referencing the late Maurice Fischer in their conversations, or by down right comparing Robert to him. It certainly wasn’t motivated by a personal grudge, no, Saito just wanted to see Fischer Morrow suffer, and for Proclus Global to rise. It was business politics, something you couldn’t - and didn’t want to - wrap your head around.

The only thing you had in mind now was if you’d dressed up well enough: you had a small collection of gowns that you’d gathered over the years attending events with Robert, but every time, he gave you his card and told you to pick out something nice. You guessed that he was the kind of man who preferred to always show up in something new, something better — and that translated to whoever was perched on his arm.

That, being you, who’d bought a black satin and lace dress with a slit on the left thigh. You knew what Robert usually wore to these occasions, so you dressed accordingly - and it was an accurate foretelling, to say the least. When you’d entered Robert’s condo, he was standing in the lobby, strapping a Tudor onto his left wrist. He was head to toe in black satin, just as you were, hair neatly coiffed against his forehead.

Your heels clacked loudly on the lobby tile, and he noticed your presence. “Black satin,” he scanned you up and down, “good.”

“Of course, Mr. Fischer.” You said politely, taking his arm when he lifted it up. The two of you headed to the car, and you didn’t miss how Robert opened the door for you first, like you really were his date for that night.

His behavior throughout that entire day had been downright weird, and even more so now, because if you really pressed Robert, he’d tell you you were just a piece of eye candy for his clients to ogle over, so they’d lower their guards; get distracted and forget to pry him for information regarding the company.

When you got to the event — which was taking place in a grand banquet hall in one of the many buildings Saito and his wife owned — a flock of people amassed, all greeting Robert and not-so-subtly alluding for him to head over to their table and discuss business matters.

There were also various clients and colleagues of Robert’s who’d come over to catch up with the young CEO, and many of them commented, as usual, about the plus-one by his side.

“And who’s this beautiful young lady?” One of the older men asked, raking his gaze all over you. It was clear as day: all of the men there were undressing you with their eyes.

You didn’t shy away, however, instead smiling thinly. “I’m Mr. Fischer’s secretary,” you told the group, tilting your head slightly and baring your canines. They could stare at you all they liked, but you weren’t interested in letting them know much more about you than your position.

It didn’t matter, anyway - finding out you were just his secretary made them see you differently. In whispered tones, they’d tell Robert they’d give anything to see you squirming beneath them, and he’d laugh a hollow laugh that didn’t reach his eyes and certainly didn’t come from the heart. To keep up appearances, buttering up his clients and letting them believe he was an easygoing guy, Robert would agree good-naturedly, but not without looking abashed, like he was too professional to actually ever breach that line.

Like his hand hadn’t disappeared from your arm, trailing across your backside and groping the soft fat of your ass, digging into you. Like you hadn’t stroked his cock in the car, gently pumping him with your spit-slicked hand.

You then broke away from Robert and the large group of businessmen to chase after a waiter who was holding a tray of champagne. In doing so you found out that Saito’s wife was, really, the main host of this charity ball when she, and several other women and wives of said business men, crowded around you, not unlike their husbands did to Robert.

You greeted them kindly, blandly replying to their invasive questions: no, I’m just Mr. Fischer’s secretary, no, he is not accepting marriage proposals, sure, I can set up a meeting between you and one of our energy advisors if you give Fischer Morrow a call tomorrow.

You let them talk circles over themselves, silently nodding, for Robert always reminded you to speak as little as possible. It would do no good for them to assume you and Robert were together — they’d tear you apart.

When the conversation drew its focus away from you entirely, you skittered away to find the waiter from earlier. An hour or two had passed since you’d arrived at the gala, and you indulged, letting yourself down a couple more glasses of that addictive drink. You were just about to grab one more, when you conveniently reunited with your boss and date for the night.

Robert looked peeved, perhaps something to do with how boisterously Saito was laughing across the hall, and in a moment of quick thinking, you pulled him closer to you. “Mr. Fischer,” you whispered, voice tranquil, “if all has been accomplished for the night, I suggest we take our leave.”

He looked up at you, oddly, like he was seeing you for the first time. “Yes,” he agreed quietly, “yes… you’re quite right.”

Without any goodbyes, the two of you swiftly hooked arms once more, and exited the building. The cool night air bristled around you, nipping at your skin, and Robert’s hands dropped from your arm, instead slipping into your own and keeping you close to him.

At the car, he opened the door for you again, helping you in gently, before sliding in on the opposite side. When you turned to face him, he absently brushed something out of your hair with his long, nimble fingers. “Dust,” he said simply, peering deep into your eyes.

You stared back at him, but your thoughts were elsewhere. He’d never toed the line like this before;

he’d never looked you in the eyes so much, held your hand, plucked something out of your hair or pet you or held you so close — out of the context of sex — that you could smell his cologne. He had never been so compassionate, so romantic, like this relationship of yours was organic and authentic, not transactional and emotionless.

The car ride back to his condo was quiet. His hand did not find yours again, not even to hungrily snake up your thigh and under your skirt — Robert was frozen, staring out the window and nowhere at all meeting your gaze.

Finally, when you got back to his place, you trailed after him — he trusted you to do what he asked and to do what you thought he needed, and that look of vexation he’d had before leaving only meant one thing to you: he was bothered, and a bothered boss does not mean good business.

When you’d both entered his bedroom, Robert stopped, and turned to face you. His hands found yours, tenderly slipping his fingers into your own and pulling you close to him, and you backtracked.

“Mr. Fischer?” You murmured, feeling how his rough skin brushed against you. “What are you… doing?” you questioned, your mind filled to the brim with the same question: what was Robert feeling right now? About you? For you?

He called your name out softly, like it was the only word he knew, shining blue eyes examining you intensely and flicking down to your lips every so often. “Don’t quit. I - I… need you.”

Your brows knitted - so it was about your resignation. “Mr. Fischer, you don’t need me, you… you need sex, you need someone to - to fuck you—“ You protested, wrenching yourself away from his grip.

“No! No. I don’t need you like that. I need you, not - not your fucking cunt, I - can’t live without you.” Robert’s hands pulled you back to him, holding you close like you’d crumble into ash if he didn’t.

Then, he kissed you, soft lips benevolently pressing into your own, long and deep like he was trying to melt into your touch. He was slow and chaste but there was a hint of desperation in his saliva, like he wanted to consume you, and you him.

You pulled back, alarmed, your chests rising and falling in sync. Robert had kissed you; he had crossed the line he vehemently set, the line he commanded be kept in place. You blinked, mouth opening and closing, unable to form words.

“Robert,” You said at last. Robert, not Mr. Fischer. Not Mr. Fischer, not now, not with how quickly his face had fallen from feverish to devastated. “you don’t think you love me, do you?”

Robert’s brows furrowed. “Think?” He repeated incredulously. “Do I think I love you— god, I… I do love you. I don’t think I love you, I know I’m in love with you.”

You looked at him dolefully, willing your heart not to beat out of your chest. “But why? I am certain you can’t answer that, Robert, because you don’t love me, you are - are merely feeling abandoned—“

“I love you because you know more about me than anyone in the entire world—“

“That is my job, Robert—“

“No, it’s not, and you fucking know it. You did more than I’ve ever asked of you: you know me, Robert, not Mr. Fischer, CEO of Fischer Morrow. You know me.” His finger dug into his chest, enunciating each point, and you couldn’t help the way his words swayed you - consciously or not.

In your silence, Robert continued. “And - and, I adore the way you think, how you laugh and how you see the world, how - how you understand people, people who’ve never had someone take the time to ever fucking do that. How you care. So - so… stay. Stay by my side.”

In the kiss, you two had found yourselves perched on his bed, and he looked at you, lips bitten between his teeth nervously. “Please,” he murmured, hand coming up to your cheek and meekly tracing shapes on your skin.

“…I can’t do this. Not with you. Robert, you - you don’t fuck a woman you say you love then pretend you didn’t.” You replied, shying away from his touch like he’d burnt you.

“I - I didn’t want to push that on you, not when - when we were…” he trailed off, hands leaving you and instead scrubbing his grimacing face.

“What, when I was your personal prostitute?”

“Don’t say it like that,” he said weakly, but didn’t protest. “I just… I didn’t want to say anything because I didn’t want you to think it was just another part of the job.”

“Is it not?” You questioned, watching his expression change and flit through several emotions. “You’re telling me you love me, and you’re asking me to keep being your secretary. Robert, is this not just part of my job?”

“It doesn’t have to be,” he pleaded. “It - you, can be more than that. You are the woman I worship and adore and - and will listen to, no matter what. So don’t leave.”

The words “me behind” did not come out of his mouth, but you felt it, like he etched it on your heart. Your eyes searched his own for even a semblance of fallacy — but it was so terribly real, truthful, that you felt a lump in the back of your throat form.

You pressed your forehead to his own, trying to digest this information: the reveal of his feelings… and the remembrance of your own.

His idealistic talk, his professions of love, his raw, long-suffering pleading made you remember the deep seated, stirring warmth in your heart that you’d beat to death all those years ago.

You remembered the fondness you’d felt for a melancholy man back in Sydney, the man with the demure demeanor, the charming words; the man who you spent a month with, the man who took you on sweet dates, who wormed his way into your life like he belonged there; the man who fucked you slowly and graciously and cherishingly; the man who, at the end, had to go back to America, to the life he never talked about; the man who you wanted to explore a forever relationship with, but had offered you a job instead.

“You love me?” you asked, vulnerability apparent in your tone.

“More than anything in the entire world.”

“Then kiss me.”

And Robert did, his hands sliding down your back to your waist, bringing you closed to him. This kiss was passionate, but patient and sheepish like you’d never kissed one another before. It was a sweet dance, all tongue and no teeth; curling around each other tenderly, desperately, like there was never going to be enough time in the world to express how you felt about each other, because you felt so infinitely.

Your fingers carded through his hair, tugging lightly on his feather-soft locks, and his movements grew eager, gripping your thighs and pulling you onto his lap. “I’ve never wanted anything so badly as I did you,” he mumbled against your neck, pressing hungry kisses on the delicate skin.

“I dreamed of this, in Sydney,” you told him, slipping off his suit jacket and unbuttoning his shirt and dress pants, “I dreamed of forever together.”

He shrugged off the many articles of clothing, then began unzipping the back of your dress without looking, “I dream of us and forever without an end: you are my ever-present thought.”

You paused your movements, looking at him squarely - though not without allowing your dress to fall off your shoulders - and pulling him into another kiss. “How could I ever have been content with just fucking you,” you murmured, more to yourself than him, “when these are the things you say to me?”

Finally, the two of you were reverently tossing and turning on the bed, completely naked and completely feverish, not just in lust, but in dizzying adoration and love for the other. Then, he was on top of you, holding himself up by the arms. His leg slotted between your thighs, your soaking wetness practically dripping onto him, and he could’ve fallen apart right then and there if not for your arm digging into his left bicep kept him grounded in reality.

His hard cock rested against your thigh, and after a moment longer of watching eachother intently, memorizing each and every feature you both had, he spread your legs wide and pressed his fat tip plush against your clit, introducing himself slowly.

“Is this okay?” Robert asked, biting his lip and reveling in how good you took him, even if it was just the head.

You looked at him blearily, barely registering his question, mind already losing itself to the pleasure he was inflicting on your cunt; how, the slower he was with you, the easier it was to completely succumb.

“Yes, fuck,” you ground out, squeezing your eyes shut and sucking him in, his groans growing louder as he pushed the rest of his length in.

“Oh my god, oh my god,” you blurted simultaneously to his various noises of pleasure, your fingernails digging deep crescent moon shapes into his back.

“Best cunt I ever fucking had,” he grunted, hands gripping the sheets beside your head for dear life. He stilled for a few moments, letting you get used to his whole length in you — yes, when he’d fucked you all those times before, he was so desperate to come he hadn’t bottomed out his entire length in you, which… had already filled you to the brim.

“M’gonna,” he shuddered, feeling your walls bear down on him suddenly, “gonna move now.”

You nodded breathlessly, arching into his touch as he set a steady pace. He would drive into you slowly, teasingly, almost torturously, before suddenly pulling out, then thrusting into you regularly for a few moments, and finally starting all over again. It would’ve made you mad, if not for how sweetly he was handling you: his hand stroking your forehead shyly, gaze flitting over you like you were the only thing left in the entire world.

Robert leaned down to your bare tits, brushing his wet tongue over your nipples, which had grown sensitive and erect. At his touch, you let out a small squeak, “Oh, Robert,” you keened, rutting your hips up into his own on instinct.

You could feel him smile against your skin, and then, he slipped one of your nipples into his warm mouth, suckling loudly and making you tremble. His tongue devouring your tits, his hips snapping into you, his hands caressing you gently; fuck, you realized, it was all too much, but still just enough.

The way Robert fucked you was absolute perfection, the way he ravished and pleasured your body was heavenly; divine. Sweet moans left your mouth as Robert’s pace grew more frenzied, your sticky cunt making a sick squelching noise whenever he pulled out. You were like a fucking suction; even your pussy knew how delicious Robert’s veiny cock was, and held onto him desperately.

“You’re so beautiful,” Robert sighed, pressing his face into the nook of your neck, inhaling your scent. “Your are the only one for me— fuck— its you, and only you.”

Though your thoughts were growing foggier, only focussing on feeling pleasure, you still had it in you to beam at his words, your arms wrapping around his neck and pulling him into a close embrace.

“Faster, please, god, I adore you,” you said after letting go, a string of words barely coherent. Still, you thought that even if you’d not said anything at all, Robert would have understood, for he began sliding his cock in and out of you rapidly. His hands found themselves at your hips, and he began pushing you up into him as he slammed down into your cunt.

His thrusts drew breathy moans from your lips, and you could tell how swiftly it affected him, knowing his cock made you shudder and whine like that, writhing beneath him, because he commanded gently for you to: “Look at me,” he said, and you obliged, taking in those sweet, wet blue eyes, lashes fluttering as he blinked. He wanted to look at you, and he wanted you to look at him.

“I’m looking,” you responded, barely able to speak.

“Good,” he said breathily, “I wanna know what you look like when you come.” Then, his cock began pounding into you, not cautiously and delicately, like he had been earlier, but insatiably, unable to think of much else but making the woman he loves orgasm. You could count on one hand how many times Robert made you come, but it seemed that’d be the only thing he’d be thinking about for the foreseeable future: devoting his time to making the odds even.

His words made your insides twist, the knot in your abdomen growing larger; it turned you on much more than you thought it would, for the notion of him coming in you because he wanted to, because he wanted to fill you with his seed and mark you as his, not just because he wanted to release and didn’t have time to clean it up elsewhere. Suddenly, you found yourself knowing the difference between sex with kissing, and just sex.

You hadn’t realized how close you were, steadily building toward an orgasm when your brain has turned off thinking and let you melt completely into the ecstacy, and only really comprehended it when Robert mumbled, “Jesus, you’re so wet, taking me so well,” and his praise sent you off the deep end.

Honestly, you couldn’t describe how it felt. You could, however, do so in comparison to your previous orgasms with Robert. Usually, it would feel good, but like it ended too fast. You’d conveniently orgasm when Robert came in you, and he’d drive out his high in your cunt, then pull out immediately. If you’d had your way, you’d keep him thrusting until you couldn’t take it anymore, wanting to drag out your blissful orgasm as long as possible.

That’s what happened here. The heat that encompassed your body was unfamiliar, but damn well fucking delectable, making your body buck up uncontrollably into his cock. You were high on the pleasure, drunk on his length, and he knew this, still gliding in and out of you. Your climax was like entering a deep pool: it took you over completely, and was a little hard to come out of.

“S’good,” Robert mumbled, not unlike he did earlier that day, but you knew it was different. “Your face look s’fucking gorgeous,” he commented, mind growing fuzzy as he saw your expression change throughout your high.

Your hands found themselves back in his hair, and you tugged him slightly so you could whisper in his ear. “Thank you, Robert,” you spoke warmly, though still panting, “for loving me. For letting me love you.”

You swore you saw light tears well in his eyes, but you couldn’t be sure, because he cocked his head back, neck clenching and his mouth falling open as he released his cream deep into your cunt, flush against your cervix. He let out a low moan as he climaxed, thrusts still coming but considerably slower. It felt like he’d been coming forever when his arms gave out and he finally went limp, falling down beside you.

“You don’t have to thank me,” is what he said first, peering up at you and brushing an eyelash off your cheek. “I’d have loved you no matter what you did.”

Now you felt the waterworks coming. How was it, that through such a strained relationship and broken examples of intimacy, did Robert know how to be so sweet? Or was that just him, just how his thoughts came to him; was it just his instinct and nature that made him so darling?

Weakly, you slip your arms under his, combining the two of you in a sweaty embrace. The room smelt like come and sex, the lights impossibly bright and beaming down on the two of you uncomfortably, but you could deal with it— and everything, so long as you were with Robert.

“If only I knew sooner how cheesy you were, Mr. Fischer.”

“Well, you’ll have the rest of your life to keep finding out… Mrs. Fischer.”

#cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy #inception #robert fischer #robert fischer x reader #robert fischer smut

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randomdragonfires · 1 month

Text

If The Sun Ever Rises | Chapter 1

CHAPTER 1 | To See You Again

SUMMARY | After narrowly escaping the Battle Above God’s Eye, Prince Aemond is now a hidden fugitive within the very kingdom he once ruled. Driven by vengeance, he plans to usurp Aegon III and avenge his family. His rage-blinded path to the throne begins with getting rid of Cregan Stark and the men who support his nephew’s rule. Having nothing to lose, he recklessly kidnaps the Northerner’s betrothed - his own niece - hoping to lure him and his men out to fight.

Soon, Aemond finds that memories of a first love are strong, and that he cannot steel his heart against the woman he has loved all his life.

WARNINGS | 18+; Smut; Canon Divergence - Aemond lives (but barely); Violence; Stockholm Syndrome; Mental and Physical Trauma; Angst; Canon Incest; Manipulation; No Happy Endings In This House YAY

WORD COUNT | 2k

Text Divider by @saradika

They had been running for three days now.

Slivers of moonlight pierced through the dense canopy above. The twisted and gnarled branches of trees, like skeletal fingers grasping for the Seven Heavens, cast their eerie shadows across the forest floor. The tangled roots snaked across the damp earth and moss clung to the ancient trunks like a dark shroud.

The air was heavy with the scent of damp soil and decaying leaves, mingling with the sweet aroma of wildflowers that dared to bloom amidst the darkness. Faint whispers seemed to echo through the tangled undergrowth, as if the very forest itself held secrets long forgotten.

As they ascended the hill, the terrain grew steeper, the path narrow and treacherous. Each step was a struggle against the relentless pull of gravity, the earth slick with dew beneath their feet. Aemond held onto her hand as tightly as she could - she hadn’t allowed him to touch her initially, having been in shock at being abducted from the arms of her betrothed - but there was only so much a defeated, tired princess could do on her own.

She panted from exertion. The blood on her face was dry now – he’d needed to hurt her to get her to comply. She looked at him with all the anger that he knew she was never capable of, and a forgotten corner of his mind yearned for an easier time when she’d held different feelings for him.

In an ideal world, there would have been no war. He could have married her, just as he’d promised in the protected darkness of the nights in hidden chambers and intimate correspondences. They could have been happy.

Though his thirst for vengeance was screaming at him, a small part of his mind wished for a quieter time; a time that would never come.

His family was dead, and he needed her to balance the scales. He owed Helaena that much. He owed Aegon that much. Mother, Daeron, Criston, sweet Jaehaerys, and Maelor - all his kith and kin. He had failed them all.

He would be damned to all Seven Hells before letting their deaths mean nothing.

At the hill's summit, the forest parted, revealing a precipice that loomed over the land below. The distant glimmer of moonlight danced upon the surface of a winding river, its waters black as night. He let go of her, and she fell to her knees, relishing the feeling of a flat surface and slower breaths as she bid her heart to slow down. He watched her ears perk up as she heard the crunch of his boots over the dry leaves, stalking towards her in that catlike stealth that he had taught himself to have.

He took her by surprise as he tightened his arm around her chest and grabbed her by the neck, making her body twitch in fear as she rose involuntarily. At the edge of the abyss, he turned her around to face him as he let the cold steel of his blade kiss her skin and travel over her frayed white dress from neck to navel.

How did we come to this?

She did not recognize the man in front of her.

He was the boy who had brought her books when her brothers teased her to the point of crying; who had kept her company in her grief of being a dragonless Targaryen; who had held her hand and promised that he would marry her; the one who had come rushing to her the night he claimed Vhagar, promising to take her on a ride.

He was the man who had taunted her and her brothers' parentage at a family supper; who had kissed her senseless in a lone passageway the very same night when he found out that Rhaenrya had no intention of letting him have her. He was the man who had killed sweet, mischievous Luke; the one whom she had left behind when she had been sent to the North; the one whom she had hoped would come and take her away, against all odds.

So many memories tied to him, inexplicably. And yet, she did not recognize the man in front of her.

As a boy, he had had such striking eyes - in color, but more so in the volatility of their regard. Always flitting about, looking for things to imbibe, to brand into his memory. His functional eye had grown different since she had last seen him - distant, devoid of the charming curiosity that would shine in his violet orb.

The eye of a war-worn murderer. He had probably brought her here because he wanted to kill her too.

“You’re supposed to be dead,” she whispered the words, almost uncertain. The coldness of his Valyrian steel dagger made goosebumps rise up on the planes of her skin, and yet, she surprisingly found that she was scared, not in the least.

He smirked and leaned in close to her, the leather strap of his eyepatch grazing her temple as she let the warmth of his breath bloom over her face. He raised the blade to her neck and teased her, being so bold as to let out a throaty, exhausted laugh that sounded more maniacal than anything else. She shut her eyes closed, hoping that if she could keep her world dark, she could pretend that this was all a nightmare.

She had often dreamt that he would take her away. She had hoped and hoped and hoped, and now that he was here, she couldn’t fathom how wrong she had been to wish for it.

Silly little fool.

“Sharp, sweet niece.”

His tone made her flinch. His voice was rough and predatory - so much so that she couldn’t tell if it was him or the situation itself that made her feel that way. “You’re supposed to be dead. Daemon….”

Her voice was lost in the air as he raised his eyebrow, a menacing smile in place as he pressed the blade into her skin - just enough to make a few blood red spots bloom. “I killed him. He thought he was better than me, the old fool. I stabbed him in his right eye, the very one that I lost. Vengeance, dear niece…” His thumb collected the first drop of blood that dripped from where he had made his mark, “... makes for the sweetest of spoils. And I intend to taste more of this victory…”

It happened on instinct, her reaching out to hold his wrist tight through his shirt. The irony of taking the hand of the man who wanted to hurt her and counting on him to not let her fall was not lost on her; but if she didn’t, she was sure she would faint.

“...With you.”

The last words confused her, having her mind scrabbling to piece the puzzle and figure out his intent. “Me?” She leaned her head back to breathe and put some space between her and his blade, but that only spurned him more as he pulled her to him by the back of her neck.

“Aegon, Helaena, Criston, Jaeherys, Maelor, mother…vengeance for them all. When he comes for you, to save you… I’ll kill him, and then I’ll kill the little boy that you call a King. Take what is rightfully mine and avenge them.”

The Aemond she had known was too calculated, too weary to tell anyone anything at all. But this, this wasn’t her Aemond. This was a different man - a mad killer, a stranger; one that intended to use her in his rage-filled path to regicide and revenge.

When he comes for you, to save you… I’ll kill him.

She could only think of one man who would come looking for her. Her betrothed, Cregan Stark - the same man who had shown her Northern hospitality and shared his home and hearth so she could be kept safe away from the bloodshed of the war.

And Aemond wanted to kill him. He wanted to kill them all and take the Iron Throne.

“Gods…”

She had always felt compelled to help during the war. She wasn’t a skilled warrior, nor was she a bold woman. Dainty little sweetheart, her mother used to call her. How can I manage to keep you safe and sound?

She had always wanted to help her mother - be a good daughter and play her part in helping her sit the Throne, as was her birthright. When she had been sent to the North as Cregan Stark’s betrothed, Rhaenyra Targaryen had told her that this was her duty, her contribution to the Blacks’ victory.

You will help me win by keeping my mind at ease about you, child, she had said. You will help me win by staying safe and bringing the Northerners’ allegiance to our cause.

That had been her contribution, but it hadn’t been enough. Daemon, Luke, Jace, Joffrey, Rhaenys… they’re all dead. She had done what she could, and it was not enough.

And now, Aemond wanted to kill sweet Aegon. Her beloved brother, the little one who held the weight of the world on his shoulders. He would make a fine king, she knew - but not if Aemond was going to lure Cregan out to fight and make him vulnerable to attacks.

She’d be damned to all Seven Hells if she let him win.

He had been observing her, it seemed. As she let her thoughts sweep her away, he had taken to watching her, reminding himself of every inch of her. She raised her hand to his warm dry cheek, bony from what could have only been a lack of proper food. How long has he been staying here, amidst the trees?

“You don’t have to do this, uncle. Let me go now, and it’ll be like it never happened. There’s been enough bloodshed.”

She thought she imagined it, but she knew it was true when she felt his grip on the blade falter for just a moment. She made good on his momentary lapse and kicked his knee to fold under him with all her might. He fell, and she took hurried steps away from him as he grunted in pain.

Her skirts swirled as she turned just slightly, sneaking a peek off the edge of the hill. If she jumped, she would fall into the waters that ran below - but would that be enough? She’d have to die. She had to. She would not let him use her; she would not let him kill them.

This was her contribution to the war. Her deceased mother’s victory lay in her daughter’s ability to keep the rightful king alive. This was her chance, and she was not going to fail her. He stood up with panting breaths, and she looked him in the eye as boldly as she could, knowing very well that she might as well be living her last and final moments.

She had always wanted to fly - and if she wasn’t going to do it now, then when would she?

She closed her eyes and threw herself over the edge, seeing the sky become a fading memory as she made the steep drop. Halfway through, she opened her eyes and saw him leaning over the edge, panicked, watching her free-falling figure from the hilltop as she flew, flew, flew.

She fell into the water, making contact with sharp tree branches and thorns on the way down in her descent. The blood on her face and body mixed with the water that surrounded her, and blood-red ripples muddled her vision as she closed her eyes.

Water filled her nostrils, and her vision went dark in a matter of mere moments.

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Next Chapter

A/N: Got so inspired by the S2 poster, I managed to finish this damn thing hehe. This was a lot more fast paced than my usual writing style, and I'd love to hear what you guys think! I've been really out of touch with fic writing, and feedback is always welcome :)

SERIES MASTERLIST

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xo-kyeong · 1 year

Text

Caught you

Scenario: BAKUSQUAD Catches you masturbating (Individual Characters x Reader)

Warnings: ❗️MDNI❗️Characters are in College and above the age of 18, dub-con.

———————————————————————————

Bakugou Katsuki

He was on his way to remind you about your remaining balance for your half of the monthly bills, slowing his steps to the sound of—whimpers?

Through the small crack of your unlocked door, he could see the way your face contorted in pure bliss. The way your legs were hiking up and how your toes were curling as you got closer to the edge of your release

“Ahh, mm- oh my fuck- don’t stop Katsuki”

He didn’t think you’d be getting off on him. God, he was only supposed to deliver your invoice for the month, not get hard while watching his roommate masturbate at the thought of HIM.

Your voice is getting higher and breathier by the second, your unoccupied hand gripping tightly at the sheets beneath you.

“Fuck- Katsuki I’m—“

“You’re what?”

Your skin turns cold, and your eyes grow wide as you turn to look at the figure leaning on your door frame—the same person you were moaning about.

“OH MY GOD—“ You quickly pull up your duvet in an attempt of hiding the mess going on down there.

“H-how long.. have you been standing there?” You sit up and ask him, trying your best to avoid eye contact. He lets out a low chuckle, slowly striding towards the side of your bed, kneeling down to meet you eye to eye.

“It doesn’t matter now, dumbass. What’s the point of hiding something I’ve seen already?” He grins as he pulls your duvet covers and replaces your hands with his. Immediately getting into it.

His pace doesn’t falter, Instead, he teases your clit by increasing his pumps and slowing them down occasionally to hear you beg.

Kirishima Eijirou

Poor flustered Kirishima, he only wanted to study with you. That is, until he heard you whining, mistaking it for wounded whimpers.

He peeked through your door, his brows knitting in worry. With the darkness of your room, he couldn't clearly see what was happening.

He nearly went to knock until he heard you moan. His name, no less.

Boy was absolutely in shock, jaw on the floor, shocked, hearing his best friend moan out his name. he's paralyzed, stuck in place.

I should go.. right?

"Ahh, s'good Kirishima, mhm"

Who is he kidding- he's gotta knock.

As you were about to release, you heard three knocks on the door, you hurriedly covered yourself up and told them to come in.

Your eyes widened as Kirishima entered, the person you were moaning out came into your room at the worst time possible. Little did you know he's been listening to you before you completely come undone. "I'm sorry— I—" he stutters, scratching the back of his neck.

"y/n, I- do you need help?" he sputters out while looking away from you. and if you look closely, a slight tinge of red spreads throughout his face (including his ears)

"O-oh! uh- you heard" your face also tainting red, maybe even redder than his. "If you're okay with it? I could help you"

He approaches the edge of your bed, right between your covered legs. his large hands holding your thighs, his eyes looking at yours for approval.

"Kiri- please" You start to lean back, your legs sliding down to meet his thigh. You were close earlier, though it won't be hard for Kirishima to stir that bubbling feeling up again as he makes his way down to your aching cunt.

'Don't worry sweetheart, I'll clean you up right away"

Sero Hanta

He was just innocently walking past your dorm to head to his dorm when he suddenly heard a rather loud moan coming from yours.

Your door was shut, so he pressed his ear against it to better hear what you were doing at this time of night.

He heard whimpers and whines, your voice sounds like heaven, he thought to himself.

His cock slowly coming to life at the sound of your angelic moans. God- he’s such a pervert. Thats until he hears his name coming from your mouth.

“Oh god- Sero!” You moaned loudly, whining at the intensity of pleasure. Your eyes shut to even realize that Sero was already opening the door to your room.

“Sero please- fuck, I wanna cum!” Your toes are curling, your knuckles turning white from how hard you were gripping the sheets. “You can cum, my love”

You gasp at the sight of the boy you were calling out for- oh my god.

“SERO! OH MY GOD- COULD YOU AT LEAST KNOCK?!” You frantically covered yourself, sitting up straight with an annoyed sigh. Now your orgasm was ruined.

“Didn’t think I needed to knock. Now, why don’t I continue this for you? Hmm?”

You look at him, your vision clouding with lust as he pulls your ankle making you lay down on your bed. He tugs the sheet of fabric off of you and just dives in without hesitation.

“You know, I like how you sound when you beg, why don’t you show me how much you want me, mi cariño”

Denki Kaminari

Oh, this boy was absolutely on the floor when he first heard your whimpers through your closed door.

He wanted to go ask you if you wanted to head out, just as he was about to knock he heard the most beautiful sound he’s ever heard.

Literally better than the stuff he watches online.

The fact that you were touching yourself was already enough to get him hard, but the addition of his name coming from your mouth? He was about to bust in his pants.

It wouldn’t hurt to- touch himself.. right? Just one quick stroke.

He palms his erection while his face is pressed against your door, listening to you getting closer to your orgasm.

As soon as you release you’re screaming his name,

“DENKI! Agh- Fuck!” Your back is arched and your toes are curled.

“Hng! Fuck” He whimpers rather loudly, your eyes widen to the sound of his voice outside your door.

“Denki? Are you out there?” You ask and wait for a response.

“Y-yeah” he stutters “I should probably-“ you immediately cut him off by saying that he should come in.

“Are you sure? I mean-“ he pants, his voice a bit shaky. He grabs the door handle at the sound of your approval and walks inside the dimmly lit room.

“So… you were-“

“Yes, I was. Don’t you wanna help me?” You look up at him from where you lay on your bed, long eyelashes kissing your cheeks as you blink innocently at the stunned man in-front of you.

“What do you say, Denki? I mean, you do know I want you… so bad”

His breath hitched, as if something within him snaps he rushes to you pressing his lips against yours which takes you aback.

“Oh, baby. You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this!” He whines in-between kisses. His movements are quick and sloppy.

“Can I taste you? Please, please!” He begs like a baby pup.

“Yes, Denki. You can”

#bnha smut #my hero academia #bnha headcanons #bnha imagines #bnha x reader #mha x reader #sero hanta x reader #kirishima eijirou x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #denki kaminari x reader #bakusquad smut

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actual-changeling · 6 months

Text

Welcome back to Alex's unhinged meta corner - although today it is less unhinged and more of a watertight analysis.

What I am about to present you is something most people have probably already noticed, but it has been three months and I still lose my mind while going through the final fifteen frame by frame (which is a normal thing normal people like us do, right? right).

You literally cannot convince me my following meta is wrong, and the only person whose criticism I will accept on this post is Michael Sheen and Michael Sheen ONLY. If you're not Michael Sheen (hi Michael Sheen who probably has a secret tumblr account) then your guess is as good as mine, though again, I think mine is solid.

So.

We all love and hate Aziraphale's "I forgive you", but what I find even more painful is the fact that before that he almost said "I love you". Then he stops himself and changes it, and the amount of micro-expressions on his face as he makes that decision is my current cause of death.

Here's the clip as evidence #1, and while it can definitely support itself, let's dive into the pain a little more, shall we?

One important thing I noticed is that Aziraphale doesn't look at Crowley while he stutters his way through his initial reaction. He blinks up at him for a few frames before averting his eyes again and only holds eye contact after the almost-confession (from here on referred to as IL-).

This is Aziraphale holding eye contact with Crowley (left) vs. him looking away (right):

The frame on the left is from the I forgive you (IFY) part of the scene, the other one from right before IL-. If we go through the above clip little by little we will find that he avoids Crowley's face the entire time and his gaze slips further and further down, which I interpret as him overthinking/trying to come up with something to respond to this entire situation.

He is overwhelmed and surprised, caught between his two main desires: Crowley and being a Good Angel.

Combing through the frames, we can actually nail down exactly when Aziraphale first makes eye contact before the IL- and when he stops. Keep the above comparison in mind! The angle is slightly different because his chin is lower and he straightens up throughout the scene.

So! This is where he starts looking at Crowley:

And this is where he stops:

Hard to see? Let's zoom in on his eyes (numbers are the file names):

Now, you might ask me "Alex, this is all fine, although a bit insane, but why is any of this important?"

Because, fellow tumblr user and good omens enthusiast, I think that looking at Crowley is what changes his mind about what to say.

He doesn't look at him -> about to confess his feelings.

He looks at him -> says the absolutely worst possible thing.

Partly to hurt him because they're both lashing out at each other during this argument, but he looks at Crowley, looks at the person that just kissed him, that told him they could have been an us, that wants him and has always wanted him, screw everyone else.

He looks at Crowley and he wants to say l love you but then what? Once he says those words, he can't leave. He just can't.

We have to remember that they have existed within a complicated dance, a game that they have been playing for centuries without ever telling each other what that game actually is, what the rules are - because they couldn't. It was based entirely on trust and knowing the other person well enough to play it safe.

Crowley just flipped the playing board. Nothing is the way it should be, he is refusing to do their dance, refusing to play. He is looking at him and daring him to stop trying to put the pieces back on the board. The only thing neither of them has done yet is actually say I love you out loud.

Saying those words would mean stepping away from the playing board and acknowledging the room they have been playing in. It would mean saying fuck you to heaven, yes, but it would also force Aziraphale to finally define himself outside of the role he has been playing for both Crowley and heaven, and he isn't ready for that yet.

Additionally, there is the fear and/or knowledge (depending on what else the Metatron might have said or done that we did not see) that heaven will retaliate against him and Crowley if he disobeys them now, and he does not want to risk that either.

All that is what, in my opinion, happens in his head when he averts his eyes and interrupts himself. I do kinda what to make a whole different post about his facial expressions leading up to the IFY, so I will end this one with one more bit of pain.

Ready?

Firstly, the face he makes when he makes his decision.

Look at the tight line of his lips, the pain etched into his face, the pure pain in his eyes.

This is the face of someone who knows exactly how badly he is going to hurt Crowley and himself. This is an apology, an I'm sorry for what I'm about to do, this hurts me as much as it hurts you. I'm sorry but I have to.

And then he winces afterwards. I don't know about you, but this is exactly the kind of face I make when I'm emotionally torturing myself with my own thoughts. For the final blow, please look at the picture very, very closely, especially the last frame, because Aziraphale isn't just sorry and he isn't just in pain.

Aziraphale is scared because he knows* that he might lose Crowley over this. He knows that saying I forgive you is (almost) unforgivable. He KNOWS.

He does it anyway because he will lose Crowley either way but he'd rather have him alive and hating him than dead.

With that I am concluding today's unhinged meta corner, thank you for your attention and you're welcome for the pain.

Also: If you want to call me a 'tin hatter' or insane or otherwise make fun of me - this is very much a girl, what were YOU doing at the devil's sacrament moment because you read my meta post all the way to the end. <3

*authors note: what Aziraphale thinks he knows and what is actually real is not the same thing but that's a different post

#alex talks good omens #good omens #good omens meta #ineffable husbands #crowley #aziraphale #good omens season 2 #go2 #aziracrow #crowley x aziraphale #ineffable divorce #the final fifteen #good omens kiss #good omens 2 meta #no nightingales

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ataraxiaspainting · 4 months

Text

Demon Fire.

Yan Kafka x F Reader x Yan Blade.

Synopsis: Where is this train going?

Warnings: Yandere themes, kidnapping, and manipulation.

Word Count: 1k.

*~*~*~*

“Which seat do you want, darling?” Kafka asks, her thumb still making circles over your own.

Her hair is half put up in a ponytail as usual, the rest flowing down the sides of her face. She only held her purse, which held only her wallet, her phone, snacks, water, and pictures of you with her and Blade. Blade pulls her suitcase, as well as yours and his, through the narrow gap between the seat rows, with his bag noticeably smaller compared to Kafka's and yours.

You point to the one closest to the window, and Kafka smiles. “That one.”

She nods, and Blade begins to put the luggage in the cabinet above, being silent all the while you and Kafka sit down.

“Neither of you have told me where we are going.” You say as Kafka puts her head on your shoulder.

“Be patient, my dear girl. You will find out soon. You’ll love it, I promise. Bladie and I spent a lot of time searching for a place to celebrate.”

You ask what you are all celebrating, and she continues.

“Do not fret, it will only be a few hours before we reach our destination. We’ll just cuddle for now, and chat. There are also movies to watch and sights to see out the window. Both the ride there and where we are going is going to be so relaxing for all of us. You have my word. Or my honor. Whichever you prefer, dear.” You stop paying attention to her words halfway through, and when she realizes this she pecks your cheek. “Though I suspect you think that neither of them exist.”

“Maybe.” As the train begins its journey, you gaze out the window, murmuring to yourself. Like a well-rehearsed performance or clockwork, an array of colorful flowers and plants glide past, each one swiftly replaced by another. Before you know it, the vibrant beauty of spring and the whispers of Kafka lull you to sleep.

…

The landscape was a surprise, yet not entirely, as it lay in a remote location devoid of human presence except for the occupants of the cabin nestled at the foot of the verdant hill. The vast expanse was a haven of blossoms, grass, and foliage, enough to supply a lifetime's worth of adornments for a spring festival. Every imaginable flower and plant seemed to find a home here. In the nearby lake, crystal clear waters mirrored the mountain's grandeur, while tranquil sea bass and carp glided serenely beneath the surface.

Nestled beside the solitary cottage stood a windmill, its weathered blades casting a gentle shadow. Atop the one aimed towards the heavens, doves perched, unharmed, indicating the absence of predator birds in this vicinity. The setting appeared idyllic, yet a lingering unease persisted within. Despite the hours that have passed, questions lingered in your mind; what is the purpose behind Blade and Kafka bringing you to this place, and what are they commemorating?

Kafka is the one who guides you, as always, holding your hand gently and pulling you along as she chatters away. Blade, as always, simply watches from behind you two like a shadow.

…

It is Blade that opens the door to the cottage, his face still stoic, as Kafka wraps one of her arms around your waist. You have adorned yourself in the attire she adores, a lacy, ebony dress accompanied by sheer black stockings and elegant flats. Much to your misfortune, according to her, Blade doesn’t hate this outfit either.

Even though Blade was the one to open the door, it is you who is forced to step in first, and it is you who is forced to sit down first at the little wooden circular table surrounded by three chairs.

“You still haven’t told me what this is about, Kafka.” Despite your curiosity, you don’t dare to raise one of your eyebrows.

“Yes, yes. Let us just rest for a moment. I’m tired.”

“...Okay. It’s just… you’ve kept me in the dark for the past few days about this trip, so…”

Kafka lets out an exaggerated sigh before sitting down as well with a thump, pressing her thumb and forefinger against her temple, gently massaging in circular motions. She is acting like she was the one who carried all of the luggage, and not Blade, who is still putting your suitcases down in the corner. “Come on, love… I’m tired, take pity on poor little old me.”

“...”

Finally, Blade sits down in the last chair. You’re not surprised by his silence anymore.

“...” In his customary manner, he rests his hands on his lap, maintaining a polite sitting posture. Unchanging, his countenance remains impassive; it is difficult to recall a single instance where a smile has graced his face, except for those dreadful moments when he is mara-struck.

“Sigh. Bladie, which suitcase did you put the peaches in? Was it [First]’s? I’m craving one.” If you were Blade, you would have rolled your eyes. “Really badly. Almost as much as I crave our dearest. I’ll get it myself.”

“...[First]’s.”

In a split second, Kafka's wearied expression transforms into a radiant grin as she stands up and walks toward your suitcase leaning against the wall.

Kafka's gaze freezes time as he rummages through your luggage, searching for the bag of peaches. As Blade utters his words, his voice retains its roughness, yet it carries a touch of tenderness.

“...Do you like this place, [First]?” He asks, looking at you. You think he is trying to put on a small smile, from the way his lips are slightly curved upward, but it does not comfort you as intended. “We picked this place for you.”

“But why?”

As ironic as it may seem, it is always Blade you ask questions to because at least he gives straightforward answers.

“Didn’t Kafka tell you?” For once, Blade seems confused. Was he not paying attention every time you asked? “It’s your birthday, isn’t it? ...Did you not know that?”

“...Well, I’m not exactly always given access to calendars…”

“...Fair.”

You hear Kafka's mischievous laughter from the corner.

“...But happy birthday regardless, [First].”

Once more, his smile achieves the opposite of its intended effect.

#he's trying his best guys </3 #yandere #yandere x reader #aya abstractions #yandere honkai star rail x reader #yandere honkai star rail #yandere kafka x reader #yandere kafka #yandere blade #yandere hsr #honkai star rail x reader #blade x reader #yandere blade x reader #kafka x reader

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bakugoushotwife · 6 months

Text

kinktober day twenty-eight: uniform kink

>>> all the hating bitches to the back i literally do not want to hear it!!! ttyl xoxo this is for more of my depraved self-ship needs

>>> starring: satoru gojo x curvy!f!reader >>> cw: established relationship, clothed sex, reader and gojo have three kids, breeding/pregnancy kink, uniform kink obviously i swear they tie in bear w me, spankings, doggy >>> wc: 3.6k >>> event masterlist:

it started out innocently enough. well, that’s a lie. it was not innocent, ever—though it wasn’t weird!! you guys are the same age, married for years–with children! it’s only weird when there’s massive age gaps, right? either way, he feels a daunting sense of guilt mixed with devious amounts of excitement shiver down his spine as you step around the corner.

the two of you have been pilfering through boxes all day, trying to clear out the bonus room now that the girls were old enough to have their own rooms. they were visiting uncle megumi while their parents rearranged the house to surprise them, but it seems you’ve gotten a little side-tracked walking down memory lane. the first box was full of pictures from school, some of your earliest moments with satoru memorialized forever in the stills. it does make you a little emotional to think about how far the two of you have come, the years spent together and the things accomplished side by side. these pictures tell your story; the first few days of school where you and satoru—then spitefully called gojo-kun—stood at opposite ends of the frame to be as separated as possible. satoru gives ieiri bunny ears and you’re hugging suguru’s arm–but the two of you are looking at each other. it’s clear to you now that you were trying to make each other jealous, but at the time you would have sworn to the heavens above that you couldn’t stand the man.

now satoru always had a soft spot for you, torturing you was all just fun and games to him—until you started dating a guy from the kyoto school. this, of course, was memorialized in pictures too. there teenage you stood, all dressed up for winter formal, grinning ear to ear as you pose for the camera shoko was operating. you can remember this like it was yesterday, standing in your dorm after exchanging your uniform skirt for an icy blue cocktail dress—you were more nervous for a certain someone to see you than you were to meet up with your date. you knew what you were doing when you picked the dress out, and its effect was clearly captured with satoru’s bulging eyes, red face, and gaping mouth in the background. you pass that one to your husband after taking a few good chuckles at it, remembering shoko turning around her little canon camera to show you the picture and how good you felt after seeing gojo-kun’s reaction.

he waves the picture in his hands, whistling in the same way he did as soon as that camera fell to shoko’s side. he looks at the picture with fondness, remembering it as the moment he decided to get serious about you. the warmth in his cheeks and jealousy squeezing his heart as your date came to pick you up had him reeling to come up with a way to stop you from going.

“he gonna make you go halfsies on dinner?” he calls after you, and embarrassment stung your cheeks. your date, just as petrified of gojo as he should be, shakes his head no.

“n–no, we’re going on full stomachs.” he replies, clutching a pathetic bouquet in his hands. gojo laughs. that bouquet was three dollars maximum, and you were a $30 arrangement at the least. and too cheap to take you on a real date? he shouldn’t be surprised, but he can’t help but press on at the horror on your face and the desperation in his gut.

“ah, daddy didn’t give you any money? i’ll pay you enough to get yourself a real nice dinner if you leave the lady with me.” he sings, holding out a few yen notes for him. you’re mortified, sure this was another one of his stunts to embarrass you— but your date was easily bought.

“but–”

“b-but–” gojo rolled his eyes in annoyance, slapping the money in his hand. “i recommend the sushi place on the corner.” he turns, beaming at you, slipping his arm through yours when the kyoto boy drops— without skipping a beat. “c’mon. i believe there’s a dance tonight?” he pulls his sunglasses down his nose a little bit to let you see the mischief and excitement swirling in his eyes.

you bite the inside of your cheek. you want to punch him in the arm–so you do–and then you nod. it sure took him long enough. “you better make this worth it, gojo-kun.”

he grins. “call me satoru and i’ll make it all worth it, pretty lady.” his voice is a low rumble in his chest instead of his usual light tone. it makes your heart skip a beat and that warmth burn on your cheeks again.

you never call him gojo-kun again. the rest is history–a viewable version with the many grainy phone selfies of dates and onslaught of school photographs and even an old camcorder with some footage of you practicing your technique on him made it to this spare room. you’re amazed at how nostalgic it all feels, pulling out a picture of you and satoru on graduation day. he’s smiling and pressing a kiss to your cheek—making the switch to a blindfold instead of his circular specs. his hair stands due to the fabric, but you liked the new look; especially when he pulled the blindfold up to wink at you and let you see his sunshine. he’s slumped over you, arms wrapped around your chest. you’re grinning, leaning back against him with your hands tucked into his hold on you. it’s a sweet picture—but you’re focused on the next few. you’re in the same position, but he sneaks his hand to the dip of your waist, then your hip, finally ending with a picture of you blushing from the invisible hand grabbing a handful of your ass. you pass those to satoru too, watching his expression as he flips through them, admiring the youth on your faces.

“god you made that uniform so sexy.” he snorts, eyes dancing over the way the black fabric clung to you. at the time, he wondered if you’d ordered it that tight just to taunt him, but now he knew there was no amount of clothes that could’ve hidden that bangin’ bod. he shakes his head as he remembers just how horny he had been–not that much has changed even after three kids and over fifteen years together. “had so many fantasies of you in that thing.”

you arch a brow, “really now?” you ask, clearly intrigued. you had seen the familiar bundle of fabric folded at the bottom of the box. “what kind of fantasies?” you purr, making the hairs on the back of neck stand up, the effects you had fifteen years ago just as efficacious now.

how honest could he even be with that answer? yes, back then—even as your equal, he envisioned punishing you as your sensei in that little skirt—oh the ways he would have defiled you in yaga’s classroom if you had let him. he’d wondered if you would lean into the slutty schoolgirl act, if you would call him sensei instead of daddy. or would you think that was too much given his current occupation. not like it was the uniform that he liked, just the way you looked in it—and the way it felt to be young and obsessed with you. his obsession has never wavered, its just had to become more subdued as you raise your children —wanting to be a good example and all, he’s nothing but a loving and proper man in front of them. buuuuut. they were with megumi for a few more hours. “what other kinda fantasies about schoolgirls are there, gorgeous?”

“you perv! gives gojo-sensei a whole new meaning.” you tease him, watching in sheer enjoyment as his cheeks darken a few shades and he crinkles his nose at you in embarrassment.

“only if you say it like that.” he mumbles in his defense. great, now you think he’s a sicko. he turns back to his box of collectibles, pilfering through what he actually cared to keep now—even though he hasn’t seen any of it since your oldest was born. it’s mostly to hide his shame as he continues to think about you in that little getup with that matured body of yours. he wonders if the material would stretch to accommodate your wider hips and fatter ass. he wonders if the stretchmarks you’ve developed from carrying his children would peek over the waistband of the skirt that’s sure to ride up a little due to your widened thighs. he’s so immersed in the thought of you that he doesn’t hear you slip around the corner to tug on the old outfit.

it certainly doesn’t fit the same, but it fits. there’s not a shred of modesty to be found– the once form fitting turtleneck top now a cropped version due to the strain from your chest. you hadn’t realized just how much your body had changed beside the obvious pounds on the scale and the marks on your skin—but your mid-thigh length skirt was now a navy mini, showing the dimples of your thighs and the bottom of your ass cheeks. you were no longer the girl from those pictures, but instead a woman who bears the beautiful changes of giving three gorgeous gojo’s life. your husband has always been a massive fan of what he calls “enhancements” to his favorite areas—loving the fluffy stomach for him to rub and the hips that fill his hands. he traces your stretch marks to soothe his racing mind at night, snuggling into your heavy chest for warmth and ultimate comfort in his free time. you know he’s only fallen deeper in love with you and it makes your heart warm with appreciation now that the differences between the young you and the current have been made so clear. you almost give up on the idea altogether, but your husband’s voice calls out for you, so you step around the corner before you can doubt yourself any more.

he was giving you the sweetest little face—holding up your youngest’s hospital baby blanket with only fondness in his eyes. that is until it registers, as his eyes follow your bulging chest struggling against the fabric, the sides of your hips spilling over the top of the skirt—barely covering anything at all. his face turns red and the blanket falls from his hands, back into the box from whence it came. oh the shame he feels as his cock processes this shock too—making him hiss at the sudden tightness in his pants, biting his lip as he looks at you. it worked on you then and you make it your bitch now, absolutely stunning him beyond words. and he’s never short on things to say. you look even better than anything his imagination drummed up for him. fuck, you are so sexy—you only get better with age.

the way he looks at you makes you feel like he’s falling in love all over again—eyes bouncing around your frame like he can’t make up his mind to settle on one area. your face burns under his amorous stare, but you fold your hands behind your back and sway to let him admire you. it makes your whole body warm and your cunt clench around nothing the longer he sits and stares–biting his lip, clearly in no hurry to end this moment. as beautiful as he makes you feel, you just can’t help but tease him slightly. you know he’ll pay it back in kind. “do you like it, gojo-sensei?”

“oh aijichan, can’t you tell?” he hums, eyes falling to his clear erection before they flicker back to you—overcast and darker than usual. he usually playfully calls you his lover, but the addition of the suffix lets you know how thoroughly he’s enjoying your little act. he pats his thigh, spreading his legs even wider across the luxurious office chair. you giggle a little bit, excitement flooding your veins as you walk over to meet him. how you swing your hips and flutter your lashes is not lost on him, in fact he feels the painful buildup pressing against your thigh as you sit sideways on his, looping an arm across his shoulders. “you were such a good little girl in school. i always wondered what it would be like to treat you like a bad one.” he offers, his voice a permanent purr when it comes to the naughty things he presses to your ear.

it sends a shudder down your spine, and you can’t help but press your chest closer to him in an automatic response. he hooks his hand around your waist, feeling the dip of your waist. he doesn’t miss the reaction—and he loves that you like it. his hand squeezes the fat on your hips, helping you off his lap before standing to full height to tower above you.

“then bend it over, little lady.” he suggests with a wiggle of his brow, pushing the office chair closer to you with his signature smugness. his eyes sparkle with an erratic excitement, gripping the back of the chair with a tight hold—leaving his impressions in the fabric. you giggle and lean over the chair as instructed. a giddiness floods your veins while he walks circles around you, humming approvingly. “i think ten should teach you your lesson, hm?”

you wiggle your ass preemptively and nod just to be safe. “yes sir, i think that’ll fix everything.” you purr, feeling one harsh spank to your cheek. it sends a jolt of excitement pulsating to your core, and you know that the results will be evident once he moves your skirt. the arms of the chair dig into your stomach—but it just adds to the sensation as he layers a few intense slaps to your ass.

“well?” he talks over your loud squeals and happy giggles. “aren’t you going to say thank you?” he hums, shoving your skirt up to your waist to expose the growing redness and incriminating wetness all over your bottom half. he chuckles fondly—you surely do impress. he hits you once more.

“yes–mmf-” you moan out at the stinging sensation. it’s so much more pleasurable on your bare skin, you can’t help but arch back into him, giving him such a beautiful view of your glistening hole and handprint-branded ass. he slaps it again, enjoying the recoil. “thank you sensei, feels so good~”

he kneads the irritated flesh a little in between the spanks–he’s not heartless, after all. you’re his wife, no amount of roleplay could make him forget the love that swells in his heart for you; especially with that beautiful ass of yours. “that’s seven—can you take your last three, naughty little thing?”

“mhm, i can take it.” you assure him, finding it wholesome and sexy that he still checks on you even if the dirty talk never skips a beat. from the way you wiggle your bruising ass for him, he knows you’re loving this. he cups his hand under your pussy just to check even though your shiny thighs tell him all he needs to know. he’s delighted when your essence coats his hand anyway, giggling with schoolgirl excitement. hey, that’s your part—

“seems the punishment’s only making you badder.” he hums in approval, hurrying his last few spanks up in order to finally have you. he makes them count though, loud and stinging worse than a wasp—though you can’t recall the last time a bee sting made you feel that good. he can’t remember the last time you two had the house to yourselves, and he planned to put that all of that alone time to good use. you scream out and shudder at the delicious agony, tossing a look over your shoulder to see the sheer pleasure on his face–tufts of hair hanging over his vivid eyes. “seems we’ll just have to move onto something that suits you, aijichan.”

you clamp down reflexively at his statement, nodding to your undetermined punishment, if such a thing existed under your husband’s treatment. he frees his erection with a little grunt of relief, sliding it through your sloppy lips instantly. he sighs at the feeling—but you whine at the lack of relief. the fire in your gut was burning so hot—you couldn’t take any more of the waiting.

“aw, what is it, little girl?” he mockingly pouts with you. “so needy for your sensei you could cry?” he arches a brow–sheathing his impressive length into the hilt without any more wasted time. he closes his eyes at the feeling of you, just as tight and warm as the first time he had you. it’s wild to him how three kids haven't changed how amazing it is to have you wrapped around him.

you do cry out at how perfect he fits inside—curving into every gummy spot that needs him with hardly any effort. the sound you make is like music to his ears. you haven’t been able to be this loud since ieiri took the kids to the beach for a weekend four and a half years ago—and that’s how your youngest happened. not to say you haven’t been intimate since, just more…cautious and certainly more quiet. but that does give him an idea.

he starts to move, grabbing a decent handful of your hair to make a handle out of, pulling you up into a pretty arch. “got one more in you, princess?” he coos, leaning over your body to give you short but powerful thrusts. you can tell from his tone and your regular nickname that playtime was over—he was too consumed by the feeling of you coupled with the undying love you bring out of him to keep up the pet names, but he could succumb to the flash of memories flooding his brain. falling in love with you, making you his for the first time which was also the day he decided he wanted to spend the rest of his life with you. he can see the day you played strip uno—which was something he made up just to be cheesy. he remembers your wedding day, you looked so beautiful and were already a few weeks pregnant with your first baby together–your son. god, the memories of you swollen and whiny—

“i—are you serious?” you giggle, a little out of breath from the rigorous way he rocks into you, keeping your asscheeks separated so he didn’t have any resistance. you knew what he was asking, and you know your heart flutters at the idea of having another one despite agreeing to stop after the ones you have. “i thought three was all you could handle?”

“i changed my mind. wanna see you big again. i miss it—’nd i can handle anything.” he says in between the sound of his balls hitting your ass. you can hear the pout in his voice, “you don’t want one?”

“didn’t say that.” you struggle to form responses, knuckles turning white as you grip the desk in front of you. “just wanted—to be sure—you’re sure!” you squeal with every bruising thwap to your cervix, eyes scrunched shut. you’re almost so gone you might just agree to anything, but the idea of one more pregnancy, one more addition to the family, one more round of being endlessly spoiled as you wait for another gorgeous baby to arrive—it doesn’t sound so bad. it sounds perfect actually, and his words only egg you on. you clench around him in spasms, nodding. “gimme–”

he chuckles wildly in pride. he would say he loves bully-fucking you into getting his way, but he heard you on the phone with your girlfriend the other day. you were missing that feeling of a new baby as much as he was—and he’s here to please. he moves your hips back to meet his, ass bouncing at the force. your squeals slip into screams and he’s fucking you as hard as he can in order to get more of it: of the sounds, the feeling of your womb keeping him from going any further, the way your pussy flutters around him to tell him you’re so close to cumming—everything was sending him reeling.

“cum for me first—then’ll give you everything you want, baby.” he encourages, giving you a cocky, “yeahhhh that’s my girl.” when he feels you coat around him—gasping out moans as your legs wiggle and jump. it’s not long after that that he’s gripping your hair even harder, balls drawing up close to him just to spurt his seed as deep as it will go—hoping that his sperm is still just as successful as it’s been known to be. he helps shove it deeper with a few more rolls of his hips, to which you shiver and whine due to oversensitivity.

he pats your ass affectionately, leaning over you again to kiss your cheek as you both sit in the moment and try to catch your breath. he lets your hair fall from his fingers and gently brushes it out of your face, grinning his usual giddy grin. “you’re even sexier now, you know? feel like it’s every day, but even teen satoru would—”

“allllllright thank you, honey, that’s sweet.” you chuckle, shaking your head as he pulls out. he scoops you over his shoulder and shakes his head.

“whaaaaat–you’re a fucking milf–” he slaps your ass playfully as he sashays toward your room with you. “that i still have–mmm forty-five more minutes give or take to knock up again.” he guesstimates, tossing you on the mattress and crawling over you—determined as ever.

#kylee's kinktober event #kinktober #kinktober 2023 #kyleewritesjjk #jjk x reader #jjk smut #gojo x reader #satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo #gojo smut #gojou satoru x reader #gojo satoru #jjk gojo #jujutsu gojo #gojo saturo #saturo gojo

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queenie-avenue · 2 months

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Sent from Below, Fell from Above. [pt.1]

—> an angel meets the demon who killed her all those years ago.

⤻ reader is a female, reader is a bunny-type angel(?), canon-typical cursing, very bad use of 1920s slang, reader takes part in the 'welcome to heaven' song, i even wrote an extra verse, heavily inspired by @jazjelspen 's angel baby fic, death, betrayal, angst, spoilers for all of hazbin hotel season one, alastor went up with vaggie and charlie to heaven in this fic, will be a series

The pearly gates of hell shone brightly as you stood there, waiting to welcome in any winners that may have unfortunately just died. Saint Peter had been out for hours by now and looked like he might just have collapsed from how exhausted he was. Like the angel that you were, you let him go take a break while you manned the podium. After all, you had done so multiple times already in the hundred years you've been in heaven!

Just then, you watched as a portal opened up, seemingly out of nowhere. You put on your best smile and waited to greet them.

"Look at this place, Vaggie, Alastor! It's so clean!" Your smile faltered for a moment. Not because of the familliar name — you had long since gotten rid of your fear regarding that name — but because people who just died wouldn't act that way.

"Yeah, super cool." The girl beside her mumbled as she dragged her feet over towards the stand.

As for the man at the back, all dressed in red, he hummed as he walked towards the glowing gates of heaven.

"Hello there!" You greeted, making sure your halo was glowing as bright as possible. "Welcome to heaven, darlings. Could I get your name, please?" You asked politely, pulling out the book of names Saint Peter had entrusted you with.

You stared at the trio ahead of you. A tall gal dressed in a suit with rosy red cheeks that almost made her look like a doll, another doll by her side that had ashen-grey skin and a giant x over her eye, poor thing she must have lost it when she died. And the man that accompanied the two ladies, standing at the back in a dapper looking suit.

"Charlie... Morningstar." The girl in the red suit said.

You nodded your head. "Charlie Morningstar." You drawled out the name, opening up the book and scanning your eyes through the book as your bunny ears flapped about, wondering where you had heard that name before. You frowned when you could not find Charlie's name anywhere in the roster. "Charlie... Morningstar. I'm really sorry, dearie, but you really aren't on my list. A-are you in the wrong place?" You questioned.

"Um, my dad got me this meeting so maybe you could try Lucifer Morningstar?" She mumbled, but the name was loud enough for you to hear.

"Oh dear lord in heaven!" You gasped.

The three of them looked at you. You noted that the man in the suit and deer antlers gazed at you the most intensely, tilting his head over as he narrowed his eyes at you.

"Darling, I really think all of you shouldn't be here-" you frantically said as you flapped your wings out, flying down towards them. Your skirt flapping in the wind alongside your feathery wings.

"Oh lord, here we go." The girl at her side muttered.

"No, uh, we're here for a meeting."

"[y/n], we can take it from here." A mature voice from above said as you looked up to see Sera and Emily — the Seraphim sisters — descend down to you, along with Saint Peter who was holding a milkshake in his hand.

You nodded your head, understanding your place, before stepping aside. Though, you felt the burning gaze of that man boring holes into your head. You turned towards him, a frown present on your face as you stared at him, confused. Noticing that you had noticed him, he turned away, his sharp-toothed grin faced towards Charlie now. That smile... you had seen that smile before. Even the way he dressed, it screamed that he died during your time period.

You continued staring at him, even as he avoided your gaze.

"Dearly beloved, it is my pleasure to say onto thee," Saint Peter suddenly started singing, and you realised that you had lost track of the conversation. "Welcome to Heaven, oh!" He sang as the pearly gates slammed open. You flew up alongside Saint Peter, your wings flapping as your bunny ears twitched. "Where the virtuous reside, 24/7, oh-oh! People are happy that they died," Well, that was certainly an exaggeration considering you didn't exactly... like the way that you died.

As he sang, you flew through the streets, rallying the rest of the winners to join in song. As you flew back, you landed back onto the floor with Saint Peter just as he finished his verse.

"Welcome to Heaven, where everyone hopes to go! Oh-oh! Where angels always glow! Oh!"

You sang as you ran towards all your winner friends as they danced in the streets for the envoys from Hell. Just as you finished singing, you felt those dark eyes on you once again, and you stopped dancing in the street to stare back at him.

Your head hurt as radio static filled your brain, and you struggled to keep yourself upright. You almost toppled over. You grabbed your head, attempting to get the static out of your brain. "Wha-"

"'Cause every single day in Heaven, is a happy day!" Both Emily and Saint Peter belted out as they flew in the air, causing you to break your gaze from the man and focus on the soaring duo in the air.

"Welcome to Heaven!"

The song ended, and you immediately fell to the ground. You had been dead for so many years, so it had been decades since you felt breathless, of all things.

"My, what is a dame like you doing on the floor!" There that static was again, but this time it was accompanied by an eerily familliar voice. You wanted to call out to Emily, or Sera, but they had already run off. Charlie and the girl by her side with Emily, and Sera to God knows where, leaving you alone with this shady man.

"I-" you began.

Without even extending his hand, this strange deer- whatever he was, pulled your hand up abruptly, holding onto it so tight you felt your blood stop pumping through the veins of your hand.

"What is your name, Sweetheart? I have to say, you and those little angels put on quite a show! All you little Oliver Twists are so adorable." The demon chuckled as he pulled you uncomfortably close.

"Please let me go." You said to the man, attempting to push him off but he only held you tighter.

"Aren't I quite the rude chap, I should have introduced myself before asking for your name." He grinned wider, spinning you around in a painfully familliar way.

"Alastor, my dear, pleasure to meet you!" He said, grabbing your hand and kissing it.

✧ Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ ✧

Alastor grabbed your hand, bowing down as he looked up at you, that sweet grin on his face. "Alastor, my dear, pleasure to meet you." He said, before sealing your fate with a kiss on your hand. "I hope that we can get along well." You gazed at him with wide eyes, your eyes raking over his bronzed skin and brown — almost red — hair. Glasses lined his gleaming eyes.

Those eyes were the same words that echoed in your mind in your worst nightmares.

✧ Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ ✧

And now here you were, reliving that nightmare.

"What the fuck!" You yelled out, which caused some angels to look over at you. Sure, cursing was normal, but it was typically somewhat taboo on cloud nine and this was one of the only times you had ever cursed. You reeled your hand back, your eyes widened as you stumbled back. "I-it's you." You commented, holding your hand close to the pearl-white blouse that you wore.

"Yes, my darling, it is!" Alastor laughed once again, that sinister shit-eating grin still present on his face. "I'm surprised it took you so long to realise it." He commented, grabbing your hands in his, causing you to freeze up. "I had my suspicions the moment I saw you, but when you sang... oh..." He murmured. His face was filled with ecstasy, his claws going up to his face as he grinned deviously.

"I need to get out of here." You muttered as you turned on your heel and snatched your hands away, preparing to leave.

Alastor just grabbed you back into a tight embrace, his face propped against your shoulder. "I knew it was you, little bunny." The nickname only made you more uncomfortable than ever as you remembered the intimate moment when he first gave you that nickname.

"What's wrong, little bunny?"

The moment he spoke, your wings shot up, pushing him away from you and slapping his body aside. You flew up as he stumbled onto the pristine roads of heaven.

Don't come near me again, you wanted to say, but you couldn't find the courage to spit in the face of your murderer, not even now.

So, this time, you ran away.

You should have done that years ago. Maybe you would have lived longer then.

[pt.2]

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel fic #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor x female reader #alastor fic #alastor the radio demon #alastor x reader #the radio demon

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sorapricots · 8 days

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Soothing Heaven

Summary: While the nightmare kept trailing behind each of his step keeping him wide awake and tied down to the reminder that his the last of his people, you always accept him with warm smile and open arms.

Pair: Aventurine x Reader

Genre: Hurt/comfort

Warnings: Everyone is sad here :(

A/N: I got aventurine in soft pity AND I won my 50/50 TWICE (Yes my Aventurine is E1 I am so proud) can y’all believe that? Not to mention I got his light cone on 10 pulls with 0 pity… he wanted me fr fr. Aventurine story quest really kills me. He just want a peaceful life yet the fate say no n make him suffering more than he already suffered :( that man just need some hug fr.

Wc: 1,1k

“You’re a child blessed by Gaiathra Triclops and can lead the clan to happiness. So always remember to protect yourself and never resent the pain and poverty you’re going through… All right?”

Aventurine gasped as he opened his eyes. Beeping from the alarm beside his table can be heard. He pushed the alarm off as he blankly stared the ceiling above him. His sister’s words keep echoing in his head. He exhaled softly as he pushed his body from the bed.

As he started to get ready he start to imagine what and how his trip to penacony will be. Will his mission from the IPC will go smoothly or will he encounter enemies he can’t face?

Whatever the result is he surely does not excited to leave. He grabbed his phone as he walked out from his bedroom. Quickly searching for your name in his contact list and call your number.

One, two, and three rings you finally pick up his call.

“Hello! Good morning my love.” Your smooth voice made him smile softly as he opened the fridge.

“Good morning my lucky charm.” He can hear you giggle from the phone which only make his smile harder. Suddenly he feel the tattoo on his neck pulsed. Which make him grunt a bit. Making his lover stop talking.

“Are you okay my love?” you asked voice laced with worries. Aventurine let out a small hum to show that he’s okay when in reality his clutching his neck pretty hard.

“I don’t feel so good about this my love… are you sure you are okay and will go to penacony?” Aventurine can’t help but smile with how worried and how caring his lover to his well being.

“Don’t worry sunshine, I will be alright. You know I always be alright.” Aventurine can hear you sniffled. Aventurine cooed at the thought of you wiping your tears.

“I’ll go to your place now hm? Let’s have some time together before I left with Topas. I’ll see you in 10, love. I love you my lucky charm.” You let out a choke hum before bid him goodbye and hear a beep from your phone.

10 minutes never feel so long in your life as you sit on the counter with your earbuds on trying to drown bad thoughts in your head. Your finger turning red as you keep picking the skin.

You blinked when you see a harm gloved fingers carefully pull your fingers apart. Suddenly the world is quiet.

Aventurine carefully cup your cheeks with his hands. Treating you like a glass he got from an auction with highest price. Carefully he wiped aways those tears that won’t stop streaming down. And end it with a soft kiss on each of your eyes.

“I’m here. And always be here no matter how far we are.” He said with a whisper. Your eyelids rapidly blink away the tears before you pull him to a hug. Inhaling his scent and absorbing his warmth.

“Be safe, Kakavasha.” Your tone wavering. Aventurine smile softly at the way you call him by his real name. A privilege that is reserve for you and you only.

“I will, precious.” His hands softly rub your back as you hug him harder.

“Let me drop you off at the office.” You spoke softly as you pull yourself a bit to see your lover face. Aventurine smile and nodded.

You both go to IPC office, hands entangled to one and another refusing to let go. The closer you are to the office the tighter your grip on his hand. And all he can do is just pulling you closer to his side.

“Well looks like someone is not willing to say their goodbye.” Topaz welcome both of you with Numby on her shoulder squeaking. You smile at her before Aventurine pull you a bit far away to talk.

“I will go now…” there’s a heavy atmosphere enveloping around both of you.

“I will wait here…” your voice crack as your vision blurry. Hands carefully play with one of his rings.

Aventurine lean in carefully. Cupping your cheeks as his forehead touch yours. His multi-coloured eyes stare at your glossy ones. Thumbs carefully wiping the fallen tears before he kissed you.

Slowly Aventurine pull away. You watch as one of your hand hold the other half set of earing that you have with Aventurine. Carefully playing with the crystal as your eyes watch Aventurine get into the car with Topaz and left.

Empty start to engulfing you as you walk home alone.

Anxious.

One feeling that have been haunted you for the past 3 days. The news spread like a wildfire about what happened with IPC especially Aventurine in Penacony.

If it’s not because how hard it was to be able to step a foot on Penacony and the responsibility you have at home you would go to Aventurine as soon as you can. But fate decided the other thing and all you can do is just wait.

Your eyes keep moving back to your phone as your fingers typing stuff at the laptop on your lap. The sky getting dark and yet there’s no ongoing news about what happened with your lover. Not even from Topaz herself.

Suddenly there’s a jingle of keychains. Your finger immediately stopped typing as you try to confirm yourself if you hear something. You can feel your chest beating.

The door creaked as it opened slowly. Showing a figure with clothing style that you so familiar with. In a hurry you put everything aside and you run to welcome him.

There he was. Your Aventurine. Looks so dishevelled. His skin looks paler than he already is. There’s no glint of light in his multi-coloured eyes. He looks like he’s about to collapsed anytime soon.

You open your arms. No words to be said as your eyes mirror his. Slowly he walked towards you before he let his body fall limp into your arms.

No sobs to be heard from him, but the way you can feel your shirt getting damp tell a story that don’t need to be untold. Carefully both of you fall to the floor. With Aventurine still in your arms and your arms carefully rub his back.

Suddenly you feel him circling his arms around you. Tight enough for you to unable to let go. You hug him equally tight. Sway your body from side to side. Aiding his inner turmoil. Telling him without words that you will be there.

“Welcome back, Kakavasha.” you said with the softest tone you can give. Sobs suddenly break out from him as you try to calm his trembling body by playing his hair.

Maybe, maybe this is what the emanator of nihility meant when she told him to go back. His soothing heaven is waiting for him after all.

#honkai star rail #aventurine x reader #aventurine hsr #aventurine honkai star rail #hsr aventurine #hsr #hsr x reader #kakavasha

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miwsolovely · 23 days

Text

dad!ghoap au | ghoap x fem!reader

sun burnt eyes and bunnies

tw: ( mentions of ) nightmares

a/n: simon is so whipped here um… ( unedited )

Teddy woke them up before their alarm did.

“Da, Da! Wake up, wake up!”

The body pressed into his front let out a grunt. Meanwhile the tiny body jumping on their bed was stepping on their legs.

The sun barely showed itself above the horizon and their daughter was up before them and full of energy. Johnny would say that she got the early bird genes from him. Simon would counter saying she inherited his golden retriever attitude.

With groggy eves and slow, sleep ridden movements Johnny sat upright against the headboard and pulled their daughter in his arms with a smile. "Whit's keepin' ye up at this time hm, leannan?"

Simon shifted to his side and drank in the sight of his lover and his daughter speaking in hushed whispers, trying to be discreet and quiet while occasionally looking at him and giggling. He loved his daughter with his whole heart. From her dark black hair to her bright blue eyes, he loved her.

He loved Johnny with his entire soul as well as his heart, he'd always find a way to fight his way in anyways. Johnny always liked to brag to everyone he'd meet that Simon was his rock, his fortress, but Simon didn’t feel much like a rock with how he felt like he would tumble and break if anything could happen to his family. He felt less like an imposing fortress and more like a ball of tumble weed with how he felt his walls break and tumble when his daughter came crying to him with a scrapped knee.

His heart was so fragile and seemed to be on the verge of breaking. But when nights were bad and he'd wake up with sweat making his clothes cling to him, suffocating him and making him choke on his own breath, Johnny would be there. Johnny would be his rock, making sure Teddy was still asleep and making sure he was changed into clean clothes. Johnny was his fortress, making sure the monsters of his eternal night were far away from him, making sure they wouldn't be able to taint their house, their family.

He loved them so much. He loved the way Teddy tickled her way out of Johnny's grasp and crawled his way towards him, and he loved her big cerulean blue eyes that only gazed at him with wonder and love.

Her face made home on his warm chest, her small hands grabbing at his large ones, playing with his fingers. "What's wrong Dada?"

Simon smiled and rested his free palm on her head, playing with her soft curls. "Nothin" my darlin' Teddy. Just love you." He placed a kiss on her forehead and laughed as she giggled.

"I love you more!" She exclaims. Suddenly sitting on her knees and spreading her arms as wide as she can. "Love you an' Da this much!"

The weight of the bed shifting more to Simon's side made him aware of Johnny leaning towards Teddy and lifting her up, gaining a squeal of joy from her tiny lips.

"Oh yeah? Let's show yer Dad how much ye love in then, eh?" He smiles. "How's breakfast in bed sound Si?”

Simon smiled a toothy smile and met Johnny halfway to meet his lips in a kiss. "Sounds like heaven.”

Johnny already felt his body shivering when he stepped outside.

Though he has a long sleeved shirt on with long pants, his thighs pressed against the fabric and his biceps were so prominently outlined with this shirt that it felt like he was walking outside bare naked; the clothing doing nothing for warmth he would’ve felt the same unforgiving chill if he was naked.

Johnny scratched his hair, his mohawk in need of a trim, he’d make sure to ask Simon to cut it for him. That or he’d just grow it out.

He let out a yawn, covering his mouth with the back of his hand. Even with the barrier, he watched his breath escape him as a white cloud, vanishing into the air.

Reaching his mailbox, he smiled fondly at the pink hands of Teddy that greeted him.

‘RILEY HOUSE’ was written in a mix of yellow and green paint, three sets of hands in three different colors painted on the once white box.

‘SIMON’ , ‘JOHNNY’ , and ‘TEDDY’

Simon’s badge was written in black, blue for himself, and Teddy’s name was written in pink. Their hands forever painted on the mailbox below their names.

Johnny patted the mailbox with a fond look in his eye. He remembered Simon complaining about how the paint wouldn’t come off his hands. How Teddy ran around the house and stuck her tiny hands to the wall separating the kitchen from the living room and how Johnny smiled at her with love even though he knew the paint would never come off.

He loves his family. His Riley’s.

Johnny opened the mailbox and took the mail out, walking back to the front door with his eyes reading the mail and his hips jutting out with every step.

Bills, scam, scam, letter from his Ma he’d read once inside, bills, scam, clearance sale coming up, and a letter addressed to Simon.

Johnny’s thick brows met when he reached the last paper in the stack. A letter for Simon? He rarely gets any letters.

Pushing his worries aside, Johnny was near his door when he heard the opening and closing of another.

He looked to the house on his left and out came you. His neighbor that he never met. His neighbor that always seemed to wake up earlier than him and Simon.

Johnny stood pin straight on his porch, mail in one hand and the front doorknob in the other.

You were speed walking to your mailbox, your hair was out and the breeze was getting it in your face, your robe was flowing in the wind doing absolutely nothing to protect your soft skin from the chilly air and all the while, revealing the oversized shirt you were wearing.

If Johnny was a bad man, if he looked hard enough, he could see the little pebbles of your nipples and the form of your breast outlined by your shirt. But he wasn’t a bad man.

He was a good man, a respectable man. So he only saw the was your pants squeezed your thighs just as his own did his.

Though that didn’t seem any better, did it.

Distracted by the cup of coffee in your hands and the person you were calling on your phone, at the same time turning your phone over to your face every couple of seconds, likely checking the time and hoping it was earlier than 6:47 in the morning, you didn’t notice that you were almost in the middle of the street. You didn’t notice the car speeding.

You certainly didn’t notice Johnny dropping his mail, running towards you and scooping you up by your waist, placing you on the sidewalk in front of your house. Your hero.

The sun burnt his eyes. It was too early to be here. If he came later though, it would’ve been too late.

He heaved out a deep sigh and ran a calloused hand through his blond hair, wincing at the feeling of his fingers catching tiny knots and tugging at his scalp.

There were a dozen or so cars parked near the front of the school, parents eagerly waiting for their children to walk out of the big doors and into their arms. Parents who couldn’t stop gawking at him.

He’s not here to meet the stares of the married parents trying to lean on his car discreetly, he’s here for one thing and one thing only: his daughter.

But he can’t not stop thinking about the way the sun’s rays pierced his eyes and made him wish he was blind.

So, here he was, wishing he was deaf instead with how loud the end of school bell screamed in his ears, and wishing he had the eyes of a hawk so he could look at and wait for the beautiful elementary teacher to walk towards him with his daughter grasping her hand.

When you did come out, Simon realized why your name always fell from Johnny’s lips.

It’s might be the dress. Might be the sun. It might just be you.

But the way your dress curves with your hips, forms with your thighs, your glowing skin kissed by the sun. You’re vibrant in the fabric, big eyes shining so bright it makes his knees buckle and he feels his breath catching in his throat. He can’t look away.

You’re a dove, perfect and pure, kind and naive, skin so soft he would feel like the softest of feathers were blessing his skin with kisses.

If he got close enough. If you’d grace him with the air you blew his way with a flap of your feathers. If.

You finished guiding the children to their parents, bidding them farewell with a wave accompanied by a delicate smile that made your eyes scrunch and cute footprints that reminded Simon of crows appear on the corners of your eyes.

Simon stood up straighter when you approached him with his daughter skipping and giggling without a care in the world. He felt his lips tug on his cheeks.

Teddy was looking side to side trying to find the tall man that was her father, when she met his eyes, Simon felt his smile match hers. Fun of life and love.

Teddy let go of your hand and almost broke into a full sprint, almost because your palm on her little stomach stopped her from doing so. You bent down a bit to match her height and reminded her about looking both ways before crossing the street.

Teddy smiled up at you and grabbed your hand once more, sticking her head to see the road better and seeing her head both right and left making her pigtails sway with the movement.

You patted her head with your free hand and now that you were a few feet away from him, Simon could hear your sweet voice.

“Good job Teddy! Always remember now, okay?” You smiled at his daughter with such, care, it made his heart squeeze.

“Mhm!” Teddy answered. She looked at Simon and a gasp escaped her lips as she let go of your hand and ran into his arms.

Simon smiled and squatted down to match her height, picking her up by her armpits and twirling her around in the air.

“There’s my girl,” He said, propping her on his hip and kissing the crown of her head.

You were just about to leave, midway into turning around and going back into there school into your classroom. But Simon wanted to actually see you up close. He wanted to drink you in and get drunk on your sweet nectar.

Teddy giggled, he’d never get enough of that, and she pointed at her teacher, at you. “Look, look she’s my teacher Daddy, isn’t she pretty?”

You turned around and paused, looking at Teddy in surprise. As if you haven’t heard a compliment like that before. As if you hadn’t heard a compliment done right, a compliment said by the right mouth.

Simon has the right mouth. He can shower you in compliments right and pure if he tried his hardest. If you gave him and Johnny a chance to.

“You’re right, love,” He says, looking at you with flowers blossoming through his eyes. You with the bright and lovely skin, you with those perfect lips he wished to kiss. “She’s beautiful.”

The way your eyes widened, Simon could tell your cheeks were warm, your ears burning.

“I—” You paused. Seemingly deciding your next words carefully with a hesitance that resembled one of a bunny. Meek and lovely.

Simon could see in your eyes that you were debating on how to answer, how to speak after what he and his daughter just said. You looked so confused and cute Simon couldn’t help the slow smile spreading across his face.

“Thank you, Mr. Riley,” You said softly. A shy thing you were. “That’s very kind of you.”

Simon thought your voice was heaven.

He would’ve kept taking to you, kept you tucked in his chest right next to Johnny in his heart. But he forgot he’s not alone.

He’s in the burning parking lot with parents pretending to look anywhere but him and the lovely teacher, trying not to eavesdrop and likely spread gossip that would stem from the lines of “why not come to my place-” or “i missed you, let’s do this again-”

However, Simon wouldn’t think those words would be such a bad idea to spread. You were a lovely woman who deserved men to cherish and flaunt you. Simon and Johnny could do that job.

Johnny already does with how much he boasts about how amazing his daughter’s teacher is.

Teddy’s stomach started to rumble. Hungry clawing and cramping her poor stomach.

“Hungry, love?” Simon asks her, tilting his head down to look at her tucked into his neck. Teddy blinks up at him with tired laced eyes and nods softly.

“Let’s get you home to eat then, hm?” He assures, giving her a small smile and patting her head back into his neck for rest.

“It was nice meeting you, Mr. Riley.” You say, and the breeze answers you with a cold wind that erupts your arms in goosebumps, making you shiver. Making Simon wish he brought a jacket to drape over your shoulders.

“Nice meetin’ you too, dove.” He nods his head at you and leaves you with a warm smile.

His heart pounds.

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©miwsolovely

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