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sleeplesssmoll · 6 months

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Vertin's personality and traits based on in-game context.

Contains Spoilers.

Will update when I find more tidbits about our beloved Timekeeper.

Updated: March 15 2024

Vertin sucks at math.

Not much to say here. Although, this is another difference between her and Sonetto, who loves math. I hope they do something with this later because it'd be fun.

Vertin is 16 confirmed

While this isn't a personality trait, I did see some debate about her age since it wasn't officials stated until now and it was assumed through context. Prisoner in the Cave explicitly confirms her age. Vertin became Timekeeper when she was 12 and has been the the TK for the past 4 years.

Vertin is a pianist and a painter.

You can see a piano in the back of her office in the Suitcase by the window. It makes sense in regards to Vertin's musically inclined Arcanum. There's an easel and stool in her office too. She doesn't merely collect art, she creates it. Vertin also owns a camera (official artwork released) too and mentions her photography in the begining, so this isn't new but I thought I should add it.

Vertin's still playful under all her composure.

We know baby Vertin was a little menace, but we can still see a spark of that mischief in her later years. For example, Vertin slapping a fake mustache on Regulus to avoid Sonetto really captures this. We can tell from other characters' voice lines that Vertin will most likely play along with their shenanigans. She'll chirp like a bird in response to Rabies talking about his bird friends (Wilderness interaction). She'll help Sonetto during hide and seek (Wilderness). She watches movies with Eternity and An An Lee. X asks her for help with his projects. Going through her crew's voice lines really paints a better picture of how she interacts with others. The voice lines point to someone playful and curious when she's not in work mode.

Vertin was a gremlin.

Vertin's love language is giving.

We know baby Vertin loved to give gifts to a reluctant Sonetto, but that part of her still exists. She tried to grant everyone's last wishes during the 1929 Storm. We also know she gives Lilya alcohol as a gift upon her return from 1929. She is also very direct. We see her ask people what they want or what can she do for them throughout the story. To expand further, you could say she likes fulfilling people's desires instead of limiting it to material gifts. We can see more of instances of this during the Green Lake event, especially in the way she protects Jessica from the Foundation. She also tried to get Regulus funding for a ship. I love the Suitcase Dad meme, but it's rooted in nuggets of truth.

She was a crappy student, yet she was also a resourceful gremiln. Vertin never liked the institution! Honor student? Top of the class? Never. Teachers are filled with that "Godamnit Vertin" energy toward her too. I hope we see more gremlin energy in the future.

One-sided childhood friends.

Vertin is a collector.

Sonetto and Vertin were desk mates but Sonetto couldn't stand Vertin when they were kids. She even tried to avoid Vertin at times but Vertin persisted with her gifts. We can see this in the hallway scene. Sonetto's about to change routes to avoid Vertin but Vertin called out to her to give her a frog she caught. Kinda funny how Sonetto can't stand Vertin but also can't resist her when they were kids. Vertin and Matilda were actually closer back then. Well, at least until the tear gas incident. Sonetto changed after Vertin was hurt and the rascal wasn't around to bother her. I feel like this tidbit says a lot about Vertin and her influence on people.

Baby Vertin collected rocks, bugs, and frogs. Adult Vertin collects painting and mementos of people she's lost. Things were simpler as a kid.

Vertin is stronger than she looks.

She was a wild child and she's still got it years later. Vertin can run for long periods of time, endure injuries, and climb obstacles. That, and she's still essentially a child solider. We see her hold her own when she needs to fight solo doing stuff like dodging bullets. Sonetto and Matilda also exhibit these freakishly athletic traits, especially Sonetto.

Vertin befriends people in every Era, despite knowing she'll lose them.

Compared to the other children raised by the Foundation, Vertin's traveled the world and witnessed loss in every Era. This opens doors to a whole new set of questions. How did she change over time? How do the Arcanists she recruited before the story treat her? Did she have crushes in previous Eras? Were the oranges just as bitter? Vertin seems to get close to people very easily and doesn't build walls around herself despite the trauma. You'd think someone who's lost so much would stop trying to get close to people, but she doesn't.

Vertin is optimistic.

Even as a child, she was full of hope. It's why she fights for the future and is a core part of her personality. She needs to fight for all those she lost and stop the Storm from taking more lives.

Vertin gets quiet when embarrassed/shy.

She'll blush and fall silent, but she doesn't stammer or go all tsundere. We can see this in voice lines. Sonetto's high praises make her cover her face with her hands. Eternity gets a reaction out of her when she holds her hand. She also blushed when she received surprise smooch and fell silent.

Vertin has a unique scar on her back.

Vertin is a tactile person.

Arcana mentions the scar after Vertin was shot multiple times in the back by Schneider. It's a big scar and new theories about the scar are ongoing and interesting!

In several voice line interactions, Vertin is patting people's heads or holding their hands. Not all her crew mates are on board with it, some seem confused, and others play along. We can also see examples in story like her handing Sonetto a frog while gently grasping her hand or her taking Regulus's hand to lead her into the Suitcase. Here is a post with the evidence to back this claim.

Vertin sucks at arcanum but her deep understanding of arcanum is uncanny.

The story mentions her weak arcanum skills throughout the story. They really want you to remember this. Also, her arcanum didn't manifest until sometime after the break away event but before the events in the prologue. During her stay in the guardhouse, she doubts if she's even an arcanist and mentions her arcanum has yet to manifest, which is wild. Smoltin is fighting with her tiny hands and wit in this chapter. However, in the prologue it's mentioned Vertin's understanding of arcanum and her perception makes her unique amongst arcanists. She's also considered more "rationale" than other arcanists. You can read more about this here.

Vertin is stealthy.

Smoltin sneaks around to play outside. She steals food for herself and the Ring from the Staff Canteen, which has better quality food than what the kids get. This tells me she's done this before. Adult Vertin also sneaks around the Walden to find Schneider. She makes maps, tracks guard routes, and avoids detection since whe was a kid.

Tooth Fairy was one of the few Foundation members who cared about Vertin.

Tooth Fairy is the one who gave Smoltin the toffees (chit chat voicelines). She also covered for Vertin on a few occasions to protect her from punishment. She remembers Vertin faking her illness to skip class, but her bruises and wounds were real. The Foundation does have a few kind hearts that genuinely care about the children. The causes of Vertin's injuries is up to speculation.

#reverse 1999 #vertin #reverse: 1999 #reverse 1999 spoiler #spoilers #timekeeper #long post

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cits-cookie-brainrot · 11 months

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BIG BRAIN TIME!!

The WHOLE red dragon crew is now parents/family to lil baby Snapdragon. The little rascals was just born and is already collecting their found family like Pokémon cards.

Pitaya is their dragon parent.

Hollyberry is the cool mom.

Tarte Tatin is the cooler mom.

Royal Margarine is the funny uncle.

Wildberry is their big brother.

And Buttercream? Well…

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ltwilliammowett · 5 months

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Tom Whiskers on duty on the USS Relief, 1921

Tom is quite a rascal as Philippa Sandall stated in her book Seafurrers. It happened in December 1919 when this cat was away from his ship, the hospital ship USS Solace, and its crew wrote to the destroyer USS Bell to accuse them of a serious case of catnapping. Here are the two letters that were exchanged to settle this serious case:

December 13, 1919

From: Commanding Officer, USS Solace

To: Commanding Officer, USS Bell

Subject: Ship's Cat

Several members of the crew of this ship have informed me the commanding officer that the mascot of the Solace, Thomas Whiskers, has been kidnapped or catnipped [sic] by certain members of your crew and is being impounded on board your ship. This mascot is a large, black Tom and when last seen was in dress uniform consisting of a leather collar with brass tag marked USS Solace.

If this cat is on board your ship, please inform me and I will send a member of the crew for it.

RWP

From: Commanding Officer, USS Bell

To: Commanding Officer, USS Solace

Subject: Your letter of Dec. 13, 1919

Your ship's cat "Whiskers" is being returned under guard, but an explanation of his presence aboard the ship is no doubt due you.

Prior to our departure from alongside the Solace, the cat in question developed a warm regard for the USS Bell, consequently spending much of his time aboard. On the morning we shifted berth his presence aboard was unknown to us. Later in the day after your ship had sailed, he was found to have taken possession of an unoccupied stateroom. The master-at-arms immediately made him prisoner on the ground that he was a stowaway and incarcerated him in the paint locker. This will account for the fact that he is no longer the black cat you describe, but battleship grey.

We advise against the removal of this collar since its low visibility aids the performance of his duties.

In regard to the dress uniform worn by the prisoner – in his attempts to remove the paint he pulled off the collar and lost it. This ship feels under no obligation in regard to the latter. In adding one 10¢ collar to its stores it lost $2 worth of paint.

But he didn't seem to have stayed on the ship for long, so a short time later he found himself 1921 on the USS Relief, where he was clearly happy and diligent in his duties. Maybe he just wasn't a hospital cat and wanted to see active duty.

#naval history #ship's cat #tom whiskers #catnapping #early 20th century #age of steam #ship's cat sunday

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alexa-fika · 4 months

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Kitchen Menace (Thatch x gn!child!reader x Marco)

A/N: If you guys wish to see a specific scenario to read then do send an ask to let me know, or you know… you can just stop and say hi 😉

Dividers by @saradika

Marco sat at his desk as he meticulously went through the crew’s current analysis and checkups and made annotations on results he observed that struck him as peculiar and should follow up with his brothers. His concentration was broken as his door was suddenly slammed open. He quickly swirled his chair around to scold the intruder when he, the youngest crew member, ran in.

“Brother Marco! Help me, Brother Thatch is trying to get me!” The young child screamed, darting towards the doctor

Marco shakes his head and sighs, a chuckle escaping him.

“What did you do this time?-yoi?”

“W-Why do you assume I did something! Someone could have done something to me!”

“Well, you have a tendency to cause trouble.” He casually responded, his attention now back on his papers

“Not true!” they huff a notable pout on their face.

Marco turns his sight from the papers at hand to Reader and frowns amusedly.

“And what about those broken plates I saw?”

“We went through pretty bad weather yesterday, big waves,” they reply with a nervous smile.

Marco stared at them for a few seconds before slowly returning to his papers.

“I don’t know which one is funnier, you trying to gaslight me or you lying to me,” He said in a calm tone of voice.

“Im not!”

“Sure, how about you tell me what happened, and I’ll consider helping you-yoi,” He said as he put his papers down and rested his head on his crossed arms.

“Now, what did you do this time that you are hiding-you?”

“Im innocent!”

“You’re on your own then if you din’ do anything, I’m sure you won’t need my help-yoi.”

“Okay! Okay! I may have sneaked into his kitchen.”

“Did you steal anything?” He said as he leaned to the side to rest his chin on one of his hands. His eyes were glaring at them, just waiting for them to answer.

“Sure did, got their hands on the pastries I was doing!” A voice says behind her

Reader squeals as they try to run away but are stopped as Thatch quickly picks them up.

“Where do you think you’re going, you little rascal? It’s time for some. payback,” he exclaims with a sly grin as he tickles them.

“No!”

Hahaha! You’re mine now!

“Brother Marco, help me!” they scream between their joyous screams and laughs that echo around the clinic.

Marco looks at them with a slight grin.

“What exactly do you want me to do, hm?”

“Save me!”

He chuckles and shakes his head.

“You’re on your own.” He leans back in his chair and sips his coffee.

“Enjoy Your forthcoming”

“Haha! No one can save you now! I’mma tickle you till you pop!”

“Im going to tell Grandpa on you!” they scream, trying to wriggle away from him.

“You sure do run that mouth a lot,” he says, stopping his attack and narrowing his eyes.

“And I used it to eat all the yummy pastries, brother Thatch!” they tease.

“Oh, you wanna say that again? You wanna say that again?”

“They were so good, and brother won’t be able to taste them ’cause they’re all gone!”

“I have an idea of how to deal with you.”

They let out a small shriek as he suddenly throws them in the air, and they begin hysterically laughing as he continues to repeat the action.

“You are such a little menace.”

“But you love me!” they say, giving him a toothy grin.

I do love you, but you’re still a menace.

“Well, Brother Thatch and the others raised me, so…I had to learn it from somebody.”

Marco rolls his eyes.

“They’re not wrong,” he mutters under his breath as he sips his coffee.

They laugh as they hear Marco’s comment, hugging Thatch’s neck tight.

“Am sorry for eating the pastries; I was just hungry.”

“Awww. Apology accepted. How about you help me make some more? You can even be my taster.”

First reader oneshot! Hopefully, there's more to come. I'm willing to try my hands at not only child! reading but romantic scenarios too, so let me hear your suggestions!

#marco the phoenix x reader #marco x reader #thatch x reader #whitebeard pirates #whitebeard one piece #marco x child!reader #Thatch x Child!Reader #one piece #one piece x reader #whitebeard pirates x reader #whitebeard x gn!reader #marco x gn reader #gn reader #one piece x gn reader #one piece x gender neutral reader

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biteofcherry · 1 year

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Make the dust fly

dark!Steve Rogers x female reader; dark!Captain Rogers x fairy reader

Author’s Note: This is a dark retelling (with a wicked twist) of a Peter Pan fairytale, for @boxofbonesfic “Once Upon A Time” challenge and 10k milesestone celebration - once again, congratulations!

summary: You’ve always been loyal to Peter and to his group of rascals, fierce in the way you protect them. So when the bloodthirsty Captain Rogers is close to catching your friends, your fairy heart bursts with courage and you place yourself between them. Little did you know that Captain was never after Peter. It was always about you…

warnings: dark!Steve Rogers; dub-con (bordering on non-con); captivity; stocks/pillory; spanking; size kink; forced orgasm; explicit sexual content; mentions of drug use;

Reader is a fairy, Peter’s sassy Tinkerbell, but in my take on this universe fairies aren’t that tiny tiny. They’re “regular size”, but definitely smaller than Captain Rogers.

Also, there’s a light hint at WS!Steve, regarding his prosthetic (after all, he’s serving as Captain Hook in this).

word count: 5.8k

Though the sun spilled through the half-broken window of the old sanctuary, the splashes of colors softening the stone floors where stained glass-work cast its reflection, the soothing atmosphere was dispersing.

Fear and charging darkness chased you through the corridors as the pirates’ trap closed in on you.

How did they even find this place? It was an abandoned little playground which you found a few months ago and to which you brought Peter and the boys, Wanda too. Her stories gained a new dimension of life when told here.

It should be safe! So far from the seas and rocky beaches where the pirates often lurked. Far from the lush green forests, which Captain seemed to roam alone with ease, as if he wasn’t a bastard limited to the seas, but a nomad who found his place anywhere he wished. Anywhere his power allowed him.

And he had power in bulks.

Elders of your fairy clan have spoken of him with fear. You always thought it to be because of his ruthless mastery over the seas and the merciless determination with which he hunted Peter.

Somehow, he found Peter even here, so deep into the land it felt impossible to meet him and his crew here. But the warning came crisp and clear as MJ ran inside the sanctuary, breathless and panicked, yelling about pirates securing nets outside and preparing to storm in.

Nets so they could trap all of you, even if your dust gave your friends the ability to fly.

“Go, Peter!” You hissed at him, handing him a small pouch with gathered fairy dust.

“Take Wanda and leave through that tunnel we found last week!” You urged them. “Once outside, you’ll be able to fly off. They won’t be able to set up nets over a cliff!”

“Come with us.” Peter caught your wrist. “We can all fly.”

You shook your head, yanking your hand from Peter’s grip. That spontaneous escape would work on most, but not on Captain Rogers.

As rash and reckless many men were, he was a brilliantly strategic son of a bitch. The fact he somehow found you here, was able to build up a quick trap, spoke of how dangerous it was to underestimate him.

Somehow- someone had to play decoy, so the others could save themselves.

You knew Peter managed to get free in the past, always so creative in improvising and audacious enough to follow through with quite crazy plans, but this time it felt more dire. Your instinct told you it was no playful risk, but could be the end to all ends.

Captain Rogers wanted Peter, you were merely an annoyance he’d wave off like a fly.

“Go! Go now!” You pushed Peter toward the secret exit. “I’ll meet you later.” You vowed, determined to squirm your way out of the pirate’s grasp.

When the group started squeezing into the tunnel, you took a deep breath and fluttered your wings out. You flew up to one of the partially broken windows and peeked over the red stained glass that used to be a part of a rose.

Hook’s crew was indeed outside, in a formation that looked threatening and discouraging to any rebellion. Well, it made your rebellious streak flare. After all, fairies weren’t known for mellow, compliant behavior. You certainly weren’t that kind of a fairy. Nor that kind of woman.

Hook. You shook your head as you thought of a rather cruel nickname the boys gave Captain Rogers.

He lost his arm - there were various tales regarding the circumstances behind that. Some included a ridiculous brawl with a crocodile; another a power hungry demi god from the outerworld who turned into an alligator; other stories were about wars in far lands after which Rogers’ body washed up on the shores nearby, already lacking an arm.

Whatever the truth was, each tale had a significant truth to it which your friends liked to omit - Rogers survived. Perhaps even won.

It should keep you all scared, not underestimate him as a pathetic, crazy pirate with a prosthetic.

There was a hook attached to his prosthetic many years ago, but it was long gone, replaced with a functioning metal arm whose endurance and strength matched Rogers’ general power.

Still, Peter and the boys snickered at the Hook nickname.

Most of the time you called him Rogers or Captain Rogers, only when you were truly pissed, or scared of losing your friends, did you call him Hook; and many other degrading names.

He stood there, so close to the entrance. His head was slightly bowed as he talked to a man beside him. Sun streaks seemed to catch in his blond hair, his features bathed in warm glow. It annoyed you that someone so ruthless and despicable dared to look so beautiful, so stunning. Light and magic of the world were for fairies like you, to shimmer in your nearly translucent wings and burst full of color as you shed dust. It shouldn’t caress a man like Captain Rogers, making him appear innocent-like.

No, he was not innocent.

He was a bottomless pit of darkness and all things wicked, only luring with his handsome veneer. Like those flowers Tiger Lily once showed you - they were so lush and aromatic, but when an insect touched their petals they’d trap it inside and feed on it.

Not only because Rogers had this sick obsession with Peter, trying to hunt him down, but there were other instances that turned your blood cold.

He kidnapped three mermaid younglings, taking them far away over the seas and selling them as an attraction, or maybe as pets. He spread bodies of his enemies on the rocky shore, arranging their corpses in wooden galways, leaving them for animals to feed on.

There was a tale of Echo, one of the Tribe’s people, who disappeared unexpectedly. Rumors of her fate laid at Captain Rogers’ feet. Yet there was no gossip of her potential whereabouts. And the Tribe, for some unknown reason, still occasionally traded with the pirates.

Rage at his conscienceless acts made you itch for your daggers. Though you probably couldn’t hit him from a distance.

So you flew up slightly higher, to get a better look at the siege, seek a hole through which you could escape and show them the middle finger.

At that moment Captain turned his head and looked up, as if he sensed he was being watched. His gaze zeroed in on you.

Stupidly, really, but you stuck out your tongue at him when your eyes met.

Rogers cocked his head to the side, his gaze slid from you to the building then back up. He was assessing something, calculating. Suddenly he turned on his heel and marched straight inside.

Heart jumping to your throat in fear, you flew down.

It dawned on you that he had to be considering where your group may hide within the sanctuary’s corridors, but your little peek gave him the answer right away. It meant he was aiming straight to your place of hiding.

Which was good, you reminded yourself. It drew attention away from Peter and Wanda and the rest. You had to stand your ground.

You couldn’t just fly around like a butterfly anyway, since a few months ago it turned out that pirates have shipped in some new kind of weapon that splutters rapid fire at any object in motion. It would hit you at some point, even if you’d manage to dodge most of the shots.

Taking Rogers on in a fight was a task near impossible, but you were fast, agile and quite good with your daggers in close distance. Maybe you’d be able to surprise him with a nick, or two, and use the distraction to escape. The tunnel Peter and the rest went through was so narrow that Captain’s broad, large frame would never fit through it.

You drew out your daggers, clenching your fingers around the ornately carved wood, as you heard booming steps approaching. Captain Rogers barged in, his pace slowing as he entered the chamber fully.

A small group of his pirates followed, but when they realized there’s no one beside you inside, they stopped in their tracks.

You felt a surge of victory. You tilted your chin up defiantly, a smirk curving your lips as you threw Captain a challenging look.

“Peter’s not here.” You called out, triumphantly. “You’re not gonna get him, old man.”

It was an overused jab that had more spunk when Peter yelled it. His youth could rub it in for a man of Rogers’ age (truthfully, you did not know his actual age, but he was at least twice the age of Peter and Wanda).

You? Fairies aged differently. You may as well be his age, if not older.

Captain Rogers didn’t seem enraged at your challenge. A muscle in his jaw twitched, but his face remained impassive as he stared you down.

He motioned at his people to stand down behind then slowly drew out his sword. The sound of a sharp blade leaving its sheath pierced the silence that fell over the sanctuary.

Your fists clenched, the hilt of your dagger digging painfully into your delicate skin. You drew your wings together and rested them against your back to gain more momentum as you charged at him.

You were fast and sneaky, easily avoiding Captain’s first cuts. Unfortunately for you, his large size wasn’t an obstacle to his agility. You learned it quickly as his moves sped up and he matched you in your rapid twists. His bulky frame was surprisingly graceful in a fight.

With a snarl, you managed to cut his shoulder, dark shirt parting where your blade nicked it. Blood soaked that spot, but the Captain didn’t even hiss, nor did he falter in his steps.

He attacked you with ferocity, though you didn’t notice that each of his moves was to disable you rather than kill you. Too immersed in your own rage, you slashed like a caged animal while he remained a sophisticated predator toying with his food.

You twisted around, swaying your arm in a half circle in an attempt to slice his other arm. A sudden pain in your wings pulled you backward. He caught your wings in his metal fingers, delicate filaments nearly crushing under the pressure. With a yelp, you bowed your back to lessen the tugging pain, flailing your arms around to lash at anyone who dared to approach.

Captain Rogers hit your fist with the broad side of his sword, the strength behind it hard enough to make your fingers seize in pain. You dropped the dagger. Before it clattered to the floor, he did the same to your other hand, leaving you weaponless.

Another tug at your wings pulled you backwards to him, then his hand caught one of your wrists, wrenching your arm behind your back.

He had you locked, your side pinned to him as he forced your back to bow further, your face tilting up to him as you did.

Striking blue eyes, reminding you of the electric clear sky after stormy clouds disperse, stared down at you. A cold victory shimmered in his irises.

“I don’t care about getting Peter, little sprite.” Captain’s deep, velvety voice resounded over the rapid fluttering of your heart.

“It was always about you.”

His dark chuckle caused your heart to stop, dread swallowing you in a cold wave.

You never expected to become a part of his sinister plans; your mind filled with horrifying images of being shipped away to unknown lands, sold like a piece of meat, or forced into labor to survive. You were ready to die, if it meant saving your friends, but you never considered a worse fate awaiting.

One of the Captain's crewmen brought a set of shackles, which they locked around your hands. Usually you were able to get out of any regular cuffs, but these seemed to be tailored for a fairy’s slimmer wrists. Attached to it was a heavy chain, the end of which Captain Rogers wrapped around his metal hand.

“You can walk, or you can fly, I don’t care.” He said to you, yanking on the chain and forcing you to stumble into his chest.

With his other hand he gripped a fistful of your hair and loomed over you.

“But you will follow me, sprite. Or another chain will go around your neck and I’ll drag you by it all the way to my ship.”

He led you out of the sanctuary, your feet scurrying after his big strides. Once outside, you spread your wings, helping yourself catch up to Captain’s pace by floating in the air. A small group of his pirates joined you, trading beside and behind. The rest stayed to take down the nets and pack everything.

It really seemed that Captain got exactly what he wanted and you had no idea why it was you.

You looked for any familiar faces that might lurk in the thickness of the jungle, or hide behind rocks, as the pirates led you to the beach where the boats awaited. Anyone, who could carry the news of your capture to Peter, or to your fairy clan.

However, all forms of life seemed to scatter from the Captain’s path.

Perhaps it was the right thing to do. You should’ve abandoned your bold, fierce courage - or stupidity, really - and hide from him, like all reasonable creatures did.

As some of the elders of your clan sighed, you spent too much time joining Peter’s reckless adventures, forgetting your survival instinct.

At the shore, Captain brought you with him into one of the boats. Only two other pirates joined you, their task to row the boat toward the monstrous, black ship out in the open sea. Rogers made you sit down on the bottom of the boat, curled between his spread legs.

He ran a finger down the back of your neck and to where your wings grew out of your back. You hunched forward, then turned your head and glared at him. His mouth curved in a cocky smirk as he teased the outline of your shimmering wing.

You clenched your jaw and hung your head down, feigning pure anger to cover the hint of trembling.

Fairy’s wings were exceptionally sensitive to touch. The stroke of Captain’s fingers evoked a sensation contrary to pain or discomfort. That side of your wings, when teased, would cause your nipples to stiffen and a fire to bloom in your abdomen.

You would never let Hook know about that. He’d use it to humiliate you, or to think of an even worse fate for you. You were sure he had some depraved, disgusting buyers in the dark human offshores.

Once on the ship, the crew parted as Captain Rogers prowled toward his suite. Their eyes leering as they watched you trot behind him. You swallowed, but tilted your chin high. You even sent a glare at one or two of the pirates.

Your breath stuttered in your chest, your eyes growing big, when among the crew you noticed a dark haired woman. Tight braids adorned with beads and a pirate’s outfit on her body, but you recognized Echo. Or someone who looked so much like her. She sent you a dismissive look, as if she wasn’t bothered by your presence. She definitely didn’t seem to be in distress.

You had no time to wonder about Echo’s ties to the pirate crew, because Rogers opened the door to his cabin and pushed you inside. Heavy wood closed behind you with a booming finality.

The first thing you saw was a long table with maps, plans and navigating instruments. Books lined shelves on the sides. A few trinkets glinted in the dimmed darkness.

The cabin was separated in half by a heavy curtain. When Captain led you around the table toward it and parted the folds of the embroidered fabric, you froze on the spot.

That you’d see the private, sleeping part of his quarters was something you expected. But it was the thing beside his big bed, lined with layers of soft looking linens and silks, that made you stumble a step back.

A large, human sized birdcage hung beside the bed. Pillows fluffed atop its bottom didn’t change the fact it was a scary, humiliating prison. Undoubtedly made for you.

“I’d rather be tossed in the brick with other slaves you’re about to sell.” You gritted your teeth, yanking on the chain which Rogers’ held in his hand.

“Sell?” He approached you, a cruel smile on his pretty lips.

He traced a single finger along your cheek and you flinched away from his touch, despite how strangely soothing it felt for your rattled heart.

“Sprite, why would I sell something that can bring me regular profit rather than just a one time gain?” Captain chuckled.

Not the least discouraged by your body leaning away, he slid his hands down your arms. The fact his touch was gentle and not a forced manhandling, somehow made the disgust in you grow.

“See, I’m well aware that fairy dust gives more than just the ability to fly for a few minutes.” He opened your shackles, dropping them and the chain to the floor with a loud clunk. “Though, that in itself would sell greatly.”

He took your chin between his thumb and forefinger, squeezing tightly and forcing you to look him in the eye.

“I know that fairy dust gives an euphoric rush and enhances strength, speed, and senses. Even if the effect is short, it's a drug most sought after.”

You heard of it - of what your dust gave people. Peter and your friends gained from it, but for joy and freedom. Others wanted the power of it for more nefarious deeds. And, as it always was with people, they wanted more and more and more.

“I plan on reaping the benefits of selling it regularly. And you, little sprite, are my source.”

With a wicked grin, Rogers kissed you on the lips. A short, harsh thing. Then he pulled back, laughing at your stunned face.

It took you a second to regain your train of thought as your brain scrambled - both at his admission and the kiss. Ire rose, rebellion against aiding the damned pirate in any way bubbling hot like lava.

“Ha!” You scrunched your nose and crossed your arms over your chest. “I’m not shedding a single flake of dust for you, asshole. Keep me locked as long as you want, you’re not getting any.”

You expected a flash of anger. Hell, you wanted to annoy him! You wanted to push all his buttons, rip them free and stuff them down his throat so he chokes.

But he remained calm, amused even. Studied you with a head tilted to the side, corners of his mouth still lifted upward in a smile.

Then, in a split second, he had a hand behind your neck, fingers gripping tightly.

He dragged you across the room, toward a wooden pillory which you didn’t notice earlier. You growled out your protest, heels digging into the floor planks as you fought against Captain's grip. It was futile. He overpowered you easily.

With the help of his metal hand, he had you bending down. Your neck settled into a bigger half-moon in the middle of the pillory. He forced your hands to rest in the smaller circles. Then locked the upper part, trapping you in. A padlock clicked in place.

Your wings fluttered wildly, your feet lifting off the floor, but it changed nothing. He had you bound in an uncomfortable, humiliating position.

He crouched in front of you, blue eyes staring into yours with a dark glint.

“Ah, sprite. You underestimate me.” His smirk grew and a dreadful feeling settled deep in your gut.

“I knew you wouldn’t shed dust for me willingly. I also know that there is another instance when a fairy sprinkles it. Uncontrollably, I’d say.”

No! He couldn’t know that. Nobody did.

That was a secret of the fairies, shared with absolutely no one. You never told Peter or anyone else. You knew no other fairies would reveal it, no matter how strongly they trusted human friends.

Yet everything inside you sensed that the Captain spoke the truth. He knew the truth.

“I- I have no idea what you are talking about.” You huffed out, but you suspected your bluff was easily caught.

“Of course you do, sweet little sprite.” Rogers chuckled.

He straightened and slowly walked around you. He didn’t even reprimand you for struggling in the stockade, trying to somehow break the sturdy wood. He was this secured in his dominance over you.

There was a long, silent pause, heightening your trepidation since you were unable to see what he was doing behind you.

A big, warm hand rested right above your wings, then teasingly slowly dragged between them all the way to your ass. A brush along your wings was enough to send a faint zap of sensation to your core. Rogers flipped your green dress up, exposing your butt. He splayed his hand over one buttock, warming up your skin.

He pulled his hand away. A second later a loud smack resounded, evoking a burning sting and causing you to squeak.

His fingers spread over the spot, rubbing soothingly and turning the pain into pleasant throbbing. He draped himself over you as he looked down at your bowed head from above the pillory.

“A fairy sprinkles dust when they’re aroused.” Rogers recited the most intimate secret.

“Well, you don’t arouse me!” Your fingers clenched into fists as you hissed at him.

“Don’t I?” Captain hummed.

With his foot he kicked your legs wider apart. Next his hand landed with a softer slap over your pussy. He kept his fingers there. Held them pressed against you, starting a slow circular motion that drew out wetness you shouldn’t be presenting at his proximity.

A whimper escaped your mouth as you felt your clit throb beneath his fingers. The thin fabric of your bottoms growing a wet spot.

“There she is.” Captain drawled in pleasure, tracing his metal finger along the back of your neck.

Dust glittered on your skin, the tiny flakes clinging to his finger as he touched your skin.

His touch disappeared, leaving you with a mixture of relief and confusing longing, as Rogers moved around to face you again.

He crouched down, showing you his finger that now shined with fairy dust.

“You may think I'm repulsive, sprite, but I will do things to your body that will make you burst in fountains.” He traced your lips with that finger, withdrawing it just in time before you thought to bite it (even if your teeth would crack against the metal of his prosthetic).

“No, I won’t!” You sneered, struggling in your bonds.

Captain’s face leaned closer, his breath puffing against your lips as he spoke:

“I’ll have you creaming and dusting yourself like a pathetic, needy slut. And you’ll learn to beg for it.”

He stood up, once again leaving you clueless about what he was about to do to you. The stocks prevented you from movement, but also blocked out any way of catching in your peripheral vision what was happening behind it. No way for you to prepare yourself for whatever the Captain did.

He slid your green bottoms down your legs in one swift move. You shrieked and tried to kick him. A cold, metal grip crushed your ankle. Your bones rattled, the pressure of his hold warning you of how easily he could break you if he wished.

“Keep your feet on the floor, or I’ll shackle them too.” He barked, releasing your leg.

You considered kicking him again, but then your brain lost the ability to connect thoughts to motions as another slap jerked your body.

His hand met your bare skin now, the sting of it more intense. He gave you no pause as he began raining steady hits across your ass. Your body tensed, heat from the burning in your butt spreading in waves through your body. Perspiration shone on your skin, your breathing growing heavier.

Then his fingers teased along your parted folds, dipping into shameful wetness that dripped out of you.

You couldn’t comprehend how he managed that. The spanking has hurt, it shouldn’t rouse your body. Your position was humiliating. You were a captive against your will! And yet… Captain Rogers had you trembling with growing need.

“Nooo!” You moaned a protest when his fingers gathered your wetness and started circling your clit.

Your thighs tensed. You wanted nothing more but to close them and stop this madness, but Captain slotted himself between them, the fabric of his pants abrasive on your delicate skin.

“Yes, sprite.” He rubbed your nub harder. “Let it go.”

He watched, mesmerized, as your skin started glowing. A delicate shimmer at first that turned brighter as your arousal spiked. The higher he pushed you the more dust appeared. Your skin looked like it was covered in a layer of sweet glitter. Your wings seemed to be encrusted with crushed gems, sprinkles falling all around as your wings fluttered.

A single long, big finger slid into you, spearing through your tight walls. An intrusion that set everything inside you on fire, causing the fairy dust to fall all around as you seized in pleasure.

He kept pushing into you, even as you sagged. Pleading noises bubbled on your lips; for what, you weren’t even sure anymore. A second finger joined the first, stretching you. He curled them and the spot he nudged elicited another lewd moan from you.

Captain’s cool, metal hand touched the small of your back. Surprisingly gently this time. He slid his fingers up, teasing the underside of your wing. Silver metal of his prosthetic covered in the thick brilliance of your dust, sparkles of rainbow caught in the light.

He moved his hand further and gripped your wing a tad harder, not enough to cause pain though. That, combined with incessant thrusting of his fingers, toppled you over another peak.

You came with a hoarse cry, dropping your head low as dust fluttered from your fingers which clenched and straightened in spasm as you rode out your orgasm.

When he pulled out his fingers, a squelch of your sopping pussy humiliated you further. His metal hand gave your folds a little pat; you had to clench your jaw to stop another moan from falling out.

Captain remained quiet. No teasing words, no victorious jab.

You thought you heard him hum in delight. A silent pause stretched. Then a loud groan.

“Fuck.” His low, husky voice sent a shiver up your spine.

His steps sounded heavier as he moved, as if he suddenly gained more weight or strength. He squatted in front of you. Your head felt heavy as you slowly lifted it up to look at him.

His irises weren’t simply blue anymore. They mirrored a jeweled shimmer of fairy dust.

His skin seemed aglow, too. All of him pulsed with power.

“That I did not know, sweet sprite.” He said, wonder and hunger bursting a starlight in his eyes.

“That your juices are more potent than a whole bottle of fairy dust.” He licked his lips as if savoring the taste. “I merely sucked your slick off my fingers and the power that it gave me? Oh, sprite- I feel it charging through me like a lightning bolt.”

“A thimble of fairy dust gives a kick. A nice high with some enhanced perks for a short while. Your cream? It’s a storm in veins, sprite. A little lick and I’m a step from a god.”

“No! No, please, no, you can’t-” Your brain turned frantic, fear creeping up through your still softened with pleasure body.

If he told anyone of that, not only would your fate be chained to the gutter, but all the other fairies would be at risk. Hunted and ripped apart for limitless greed of monsters like Captain Rogers.

“Relax, little sprite.” His hand cupped your cheek, his voice almost soothing. His eyes, a galaxy of captivating darkness. “I have no intention of sharing this power with anyone. No, sweetling, I’ll be the only one you give it to.”

“The others will pay high for the dust you sprinkle around plentifully. But your sweet, tiny cunt? It belongs to me now.”

He leaned in, sealing your lips with his own. You tasted yourself on his tongue, your juices not having the same effect on you as it did on him, but the hunger of his kiss stirred something inside you.

He broke the kiss with a bite to your lip, which he soothed with a flick of his tongue. Then he was standing up and moving again, until he nestled himself between your thighs.

His hands squeezed your buttocks, spreading them to allow him even easier access to your glistening, puffy folds. He licked you with a broad stroke of his tongue; the sensation made you shudder, your hips tilting upwards in an involuntary invitation.

He devoured you, mouthing on your pussy as if it was the juiciest, sweetest fruit. He lapped up each trickle of your slick, forced his tongue inside then swirled it around your clit. Bristles of his beard brushed your skin, adding to the hazy pleasure. You knew you’ll have burns from how ferociously he ate you out.

You came into his mouth, despite trying to hold it off. Your whimpers mixed with Captain’s groan of delight.

He licked you clean, wasting no single drop, then trailed hot open mouthed kisses across your inner thigh and over your ass. Your legs shook as he straightened up. Rustling of fabric reached your ears, your dizzy brain recognizing clothes being taken off.

“Might be a tight fit, sprite.” Captain’s husky chuckle made your pussy clench.

Your weak whine unfurled into a wanton moan as the tip of his big cock stretched your opening.

Captain Rogers was much larger than you in size overall, you never considered before that he may be proportionately bigger in every detail of his body. The breach of his cock felt nearly painful, yet his girth seemed to rub against spots which were never touched properly before.

He kept pushing in, in, in, knocking the breath out of your lungs. He pierced into you deeper, filing you completely.

“You taste amazing and you feel exquisite, too.” He gripped your hip with his metal hand and the curve of your upper wing with his flesh one as he bottomed out.

“Ah, sprite! You’re so tight around me I may want to stay inside forever.”

He ran his fingers along the curve of your wing, sending little shocks straight to your core. Your pussy fluttered, sipping more slick.

“You like that, sweetling?” Captain purred, stroking your wing again, at the same time rocking his hips into you slowly. “Yeah, you do. I’ll make you see fireworks. Turn you into a little sparkling firework, too.”

Tightening his hold on you, he withdrew. Then slammed back into you with force, evoking your cry.

He fucked you with steady, deep thrusts, speeding up when your skin covered in new sheen of dust. Glittering powder seeped through his fingers where they rested on your wing; speckles of dust flaked from your thighs and ass with each sharp slap of his hips.

Your whole body tensed, wings spreading wide and feet nearly flying off the floor as his cock drove into a particularly sensitive spot. You saw stars bursting white in your eyes and your whole body glimmered with a powdered rainbow.

Your cries grew louder, then your voice scraped raw after another, and another climax. Still, Captain was fucking you through it. You had no idea if it was him alone, or if your magic that he gorged on made him able to last so long.

When he finally finished, spilling inside you with a loud, beastly grunt, you were sweaty and shiny, and completely boneless. You nearly dropped to your knees when Captain slipped out and let go of you.

With a breathless chuckle, he wrapped an arm under you and pulled you up. With his other hand he opened the padlock and released you from the stockade. You fell into his arms half-consciously, even your wings felt heavy, dropping down, too tired to make any motion.

“See, little sprite, you dusted for me in abundance.” He mocked your earlier rebellion as he scooped you up.

The floor was covered in a thick layer of sparkling dust. Enough to fill a few vials.Your small feet left an imprint in the shimmery drizzle in the spot from which Captain picked you up.

You had no strength to fight him when Rogers carried you across the suite. He opened the birdcage and sat you down on fluffy pillows. Arranged your body quite comfortably in your new, narrow prison. He locked it and swayed the cage with a gentle push.

He watched you with clear, untired eyes (still sparkling with extreme power), while you peeked at him through heavy eyelids. You saw him wrap his fingers around his softening cock, gathering your mixed juices and bringing his hand up to his face. He licked it clean, his irises anew igniting with power.

His skin glowed, though you weren’t sure if it’s only the sweat from your coupling, or if your magic thrummed beneath his skin so vividly. His muscles looked to be carved from marble. Veins curved in places which you never paid attention to in any man.

He looked like a god he claimed to feel like.

A beautiful monster who you should despise for the rest of your life, no matter how your body shivered under his touch.

“Rest now, sprite.” Captain cooed as your head leaned against one of the bars. “If you prove to be good, you might earn yourself bed rights someday.”

He swayed the cage again, rocking you to sleep. Despite your effort to stay awake, to not waste a second and start forming a plan of escape, drowsiness was taking over your exhausted body.

You fell asleep as you watched Captain pull on his pants - and nothing else - and bend over the map table, scribbling something down. A new course to lands where he could profit from your dust.

Or doomed places where he could test the power that owning you gave him.

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x female reader #dark!steve rogers #dark!steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers au #once upon a time challenge #dark fairytale #boxofbonesfic challenge #boxofbonesfic #make the dust fly

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frieschan · 1 year

Text

𝐯𝐨𝐢𝐜𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭. pt 2 // genshin men

➳ character/s featured: thoma, kazuha, albedo, xiao x f! reader

➳ unrequested | scenario // fluff

➳ TW: not proof-read

➳ summary: you and said character have started growing close, finally they open up to you about their personal life.

➳ AN: part 1 with ayato, diluc, childe, and zhongli here.. part 3 with cyno, alhaitham, tighnari, and kaveh is coming soon :)

—THOMA ; protector from afar !

TRUST LVL. 4 ; about y/n

"y/n? she's quite a helpful hand here in the Kamisato estate! Though she isn't an official worker, she does as much work as me around here when she gets some free time from being a shrine maiden!"

TRUST LVL. 6 ; about lover

"ahh heheh.. you've heard about my lover? F-From Yae Miko?! Godd... That's just embarrassing.. y/n is my girlfriend, I love her till the end of time but I tend to avoid visiting her since she'd be at the shrine and a certain Fox lady would be there.. If you get the chance to pass by the shrine, could you tell y/n that I want to eat hotpot with her?"

YAE MIKO ; about Thoma's lover

"oh? y/n? she's quite an adorable lady.. she works so hard at the shrine! I sometimes wish she would have worked my publishing house instead, pity. She could always lend a hand at the publishing house but, all her spare time is spent on her boyfriend, Thoma. Such a cute couple, don't you think?"

—KAEDEHARA KAZUHA ; scarlet leaves pursue wild waves !

TRUST LVL. 4 ; about y/n

"y/n is a very reliable pirate aboard Beidou's ship, a true comrade of the ship. At the time I was wanted, I was being followed by groups of patrol soldiers.. That's when I witnessed the strength of the right hand woman. She truly is never afraid to pull out her sword in the face of injustice."

TRUST LVL. 6 ; about lover

"Hm? my lover? Ah, y/n is my lover. You look quite surprised traveler.. I thought it was quite obvious... You had your suspicions? Ehe.. I can't help but admire beauty. y/n is very dear to my heart, everyday I ask myself just what I would be doing at this moment if y/n wasn't here.."

BEIDOU ; about Kazuha's lover

"y/n.. that little devil is quite a handful when we're at sea! Even when she's such a rascal, I'm grateful that she is here on this boat.. Always tending to the crew, especially Kazuha. Young love, ey? Best you keep this between us though, lest you want the crew to have swords at Kazuha's throat for 'stealing y/n' hahahaha"

—ALBEDO ; kreideprinz !

TRUST LVL. 4 ; about y/n

"The second daughter of the Gunnhildr clan.. She holds the title 'blade of snow' with how much of her time is spent here.. With that, me and her hold a close relationship.. Another part of that is Klee always looking for her...."

TRUST LVL. 6 ; about lover

"You've heard rumors of me and y/n being engaged? That is something I cannot deny, you have already seen the ring on our finger. She holds a place in my heart, she is just as special as Klee actually. Sucrose and Klee adore her very much.. they always seem disappointed when she is busy and cannot visit. I can't help but be disappointed too.."

KLEE ; about Albedo's lover

"y/n is the best! She always plays with me! I don't get why Albedo always pulls her away, I wanna play with her too!"

—XIAO ; vigilant yaksha !

TRUST LVL. 4 ; about y/n

"y/n? her presence is far more comforting compared to other mortals, though there is something very odd about the aura she exerts."

TRUST LVL. 6 ; about y/n, truth

"It seems as though y/n isn't mortal afterall, she is adepti. How could I have missed this..."

TRUST LVL. 6 ; about lover

"What is it that you want with y/n, traveler? y/n as my lover..? just who has told you this information... tsk, mortal lives can't help but meddle in the business of others so it should be expected. So what if she is my lover? Though, I sometimes worry if I really will be able to protect her from the horrors and years of pain I have endured. No matter, I know that you will protect her also."

GANYU ; about Xiao's lover

"lady y/n? I have heard the fellow adeptis mentioning her every once and a while.. but from what I have experienced with her, she is a very gentle and soft-spoken lady.... I have just learned recently that she is the lover of Xiao! I wonder what it's like to be with her.. I can't help but be a bit envious of Xiao, lady y/n seems to be such a goddess!"

reblog or like if you enjoyed!

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from-memphis-with-love · 25 days

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Hi. May I request a late 60s Elvis (charro era) in which he leaves the beard a little longer and female reader is horny because of it. He catches her staring intently until she jumps at him. Smut detailed, not rough but passionate and sensual. Thanks.

Stubble Trouble

(I won these unreleased photos of Elvis on the set of Charro! at an auction recently. I felt they were appropriately delicious for this one-shot)

Summary: Elvis comes home from filming Charro!, looking sexier than ever with a beard. You wish he never had to leave for work again. Warnings: Smut, smut, smut. But a little domestic fluff too?

You watch the horizon from the porch, the sun setting in a spectacle of orange and pink. The hush of twilight settles over the estate. Humidity clings to your skin, the balmy late summer air heavy with the scent of magnolias.

"Elvis car!" Olivia's voice pierces the calm, her small finger pointing down the winding driveway.

"That's right, baby girl. Daddy's home," you confirm, heart swelling with anticipation and a touch of melancholy. He's home, but for how long?

Will bounces on his toes beside you. "And he's got a beard!"

And indeed, it is your husband’s Cadillac, glossy and grand, pulling up a day early. You smile from ear to ear. Then, a shadow of concern—he's not alone. The Memphis Mafia spill out of the van behind him, their laughter and boisterous greetings disrupting the evening quietude.

You squint at the figure emerging last from the car. It's him, Elvis, with an unfamiliar scruff darkening his jawline. Your breath catches at the sight—your husband, yet somehow brand new.

Elvis’ eyes find you across the front yard, and the heat in his gaze makes your breath catch. But before he can reach you, a rocket shoots into his legs. "Dad! You're home!"

Your husband scoops up your eight-year-old son, giving him the hug of the century. "Hey there, buddy! Did you grow a foot while I was gone?" As your two boys roughhouse, your daughter Olivia, toddles over on wobbly legs. Elvis kneels down, peppering her chubby cheeks with kisses.

"Daddy, fuzzy!" Olivia's small hand reaches for Elvis's scruff. He chuckles, letting her chubby fingers explore his rough face. Her tiny brows furrow, her eyes well up. Her dimpled chin quivers. A baby sniffle pierces the air.

"Shhh." Elvis soothes, gently wiping away the beginnings of a tear with his thumb. He picks her up in his muscular arms, whispering into her ear. The cries recede; a whimsical giggle replaces them. "I missed you rascals something fierce. Were you good for Mama?"

"They were angels," you assure, joining the family huddle. "Welcome home, honey."

Dusting off his pants, Elvis rises to his feet, Olivia secured in one arm and Will clinging to the other. He approaches you, a certain swagger in his step that you've missed and his eyes flashing with something you know all too well—mischief. He sets the kids down and pulls you close, his kiss a sweet homecoming all its own. "Glad to be back, mama." His murmured endearment, the rasp of his beard on your skin, they feel so good that it makes your head spin.

"Welcome home, daddy," you reply, your voice steadier than your racing pulse. The feel of him, changed yet the same, stirs a dormant longing within you.

Your fingers itch to touch the unexpected growth shadowing his jaw. The beard transforms him, adds a rugged edge to the familiar contours of his face that you hadn't realized you'd long for until now. "This is new."

"Thought I'd try something different," Elvis replies, his smile a slow burn just for you. It lights a spark deep within, a yearning you've kept banked during those long nights alone.

"Huh. Looks good on you." You keep your voice light, but inside, desire smolders, fanned to life by this simple change.

"Thought you might like it." His voice drops, a secret shared amidst the din. "Come on in, we've got stories to tell," he says, motioning to the rowdy crew behind him.

You nod, masking disappointment. You'd hoped for privacy, for that passionate reunion you've been craving. But now, with the house about to burst with company, you steel yourself for another night of playing hostess rather than lover.

"Let's get settled first," you suggest, ushering the children ahead of you into the house.

The evening unravels in a blur of activity—dinner preparations, catching up, pick up football. Admittedly, it’s nice to have a house full of laughter, but you wonder when you might have a moment alone with your husband. Amidst it all, you steal glances at Elvis, the way his beard adds a new edge to his expressions, wondering how it might feel against your skin.

“Outta sodas,” you say, hiding a smile. You eye Elvis from across the room. He catches your gaze, the understanding immediately flashing in his eyes.

“I’ll help ya fetch ‘em,” he offers, rising from the couch where he’s been holding court. He follows you into the hallway. The two of you disappear into the cooler back room, away from prying eyes and eager ears.

Kneeling by the crate of chilled sodas, you feel the cool condensation against your fingertips. When you turn around, he’s right there, taking a step closer than necessary. His breath smells of mint and coffee; his eyes are full of promise.

“You look beautiful tonight,” he says. His hand brushes against your cheek, tender yet insistent. “Miss me?”

In answer, you turn and pull his mouth down to yours, kissing him with nearly six weeks worth of pent-up hunger. Your husband makes a surprised, pleased sound against your lips before taking control of the kiss, backing you up against the humming fridge.

"God, I missed you," he pants when you break apart. "Missed this. Feels like forever since I've had you all to myself."

“Since you’ve had me all to yourself?” you chide. “Elvis, you know I love the guys but did they really have to—”

But his hands quiet your thought. They’re everywhere, sliding under your shirt, dipping into the waistband of your jeans. You arch into his touch, desire spiraling through you. "We can't," you protest weakly. "Everyone's right out there..."

"Let ‘em wait." Elvis nips at your neck, soothing the sting with his tongue. "I've been dying to get my hands on you all day." The scratch of his whiskers is a delicious abrasion. It heightens every sensation as he trails hot, open-mouthed kisses along your throat. A shiver wracks your body as the coarse hair rubs over your hammering pulse point.

The contrast of his soft lips and wiry facial hair is dizzying, addicting. You tilt your head back with a breathy moan, giving him more access even as your hands ball in his shirt. Torn between pulling him closer and pushing him away before you lose all control.

Elvis chuckles darkly against your neck, the vibrations rumbling deliciously through you. He knows exactly what he's doing to you, how much you're loving the sensual brush of his beard on your skin. He drags his fuzzy jaw up to your ear, rasping delightfully against the sensitive flesh behind it.

"Been dreaming about this," he murmurs, his breath hot on your ear as his hands creep beneath your shirt. "About having you trembling for me, my beard on your soft skin as I love on every inch of you..."

You whimper, knees going weak at the erotic promise in his words, the tantalizing burn of his whiskers, the heat of his hard body pressing you into the cool metal of the fridge. It's almost too much, and yet you crave more, already addicted to this new sensation.

"Elvis, please..." you manage, not even sure what you're begging for, only knowing you need him to never, ever stop.

Just as you are about to throw caution to the wind and let your husband take you right there, a knock sounds at the door.

"Hey, boss!" a voice calls. "Where'd you disappear to, man? Joe wants to run through the press junket schedule."

Elvis groans, dropping his forehead to your shoulder. "To be continued," he promises darkly, adjusting himself with a wince.

Stepping back, you reluctantly adjust your clothing. "Raincheck," is all you say, and it's a promise as much as it is a plea. He presses a swift kiss to your lips before opening the door and putting his 'star' smile back on.

You stand frozen for a moment. You shake yourself off. You tell yourself there's always later, there's always tomorrow. You gather the sodas and head back into the main room.

The night drags on. Laughter echoes through the house, amplified by the clink of glasses, the strums of guitars. The party’s in full swing and being a good hostess occupies most of your evening.

You sneak glances at Elvis, at how his beard lends him a new ruggedness that makes your heart hammer in your chest. You long to run your fingers through it, trace the lines of his face. He sometimes looks back, his gaze lingering on you before being pulled away by someone else. His eyes tell you: soon.

Your youngest, Olivia, chatters animatedly about butterflies, and Will bounces around with an energy only an eight-year-old can muster. You enjoy watching them mingle with your friends—however, they also serve as persistent reminders that privacy is out of reach.

Around eleven o’ clock, the house begins to quiet down. People trickle out, leaving behind echoes of laughter and empty plates. The house seems bigger, emptier, a stark contrast to the fullness it held just moments ago. Later, after baths and bedtime stories, you and Elvis collapsed onto the couch together, Elvis pulling your feet into his lap. "I thought I’d never get a minute alone with you," he sighs, kneading your arches.

You let your head fall back, relishing his touch. "I love that you're so busy, but I hate having to share you."

"I'm all yours now, sweetheart." Elvis presses a kiss to your ankle, his beard tickling delightfully. He gives you a heated look from under his lashes. "For the rest of the night, I'm all yours."

Anticipation zings through your veins, and you reach for your husband, already breathless. As he gathers you close, kissing you deeply, you can’t help but think that sometimes, the only thing better than a homecoming... is what comes after.

You sit up, scooting closer to run your fingers over Elvis' fuzzy jaw. "You sure it's you under there? This beard makes you look mighty different," you tease, eyes twinkling. "Like a whole new man."

Elvis turns his head to nip playfully at your fingers, a mischievous glint in his eye. "That so? Should I be worried about this 'new man' stealing my girl?"

You laugh, shaking your head. "Never. You know you're the only man for me, beard or no beard."

"Damn right," Elvis growls playfully, his hands settling on your hips as you shift to straddle his lap. "This 'new man' better know his place."

Draping your arms around his neck, you lean in close, your lips brushing his as you speak. "Oh, I don't know. He's pretty sexy. Rugged. Dangerous. Looks like a cowboy..." You let your voice drop to a husky whisper. "I might just be tempted..."

Elvis' fingers flex on your hips, pulling you flush against him. "Is that right?" He dips his head to nuzzle into your neck, his beard rasping deliciously on your sensitive skin. "Well, I bet this 'new man' don't know how to touch you like I do."

You gasp as he finds a particularly sensitive spot, your back arching. "Mmm, I think you might be right," you manage breathlessly. "Better prove it to me, just to be sure."

"Gladly." Elvis captures your mouth in a searing kiss, one hand sliding up to tangle in your hair as he sits you on his lap. "Let me show you just how well this old dog knows your body, mama."

You surrender to his touch with a moan, the world falling away until nothing exists but you, Elvis, and the delicious abrasion of his beard on your skin as he sets about thoroughly, blissfully reminding you that he's the only man who could ever make you feel this good.

Your mouths meet in a searing kiss, weeks of pent-up longing pouring out in a slick slide of lips and tongues. You rock against him, reveling in the growing hardness pressing against your center.

His hands roam your back, dipping under your shirt to stroke the smooth skin beneath. You mewl into his mouth, desire turning molten in your veins.

Just as you are considering the logistics of riding him right there on the couch, a creak on the stairs has you jumping apart like scalded cats. You hold their breath, waiting to see if one of the kids had woken up.

After a moment of tense silence, Elvis blows out a shaky laugh. "Probably not the best idea to get carried away down here, huh?"

On trembling legs, you climb off his lap, reaching down to adjust the prominent bulge in his jeans. "Probably not," you agree, giving him a heated look. "Bedroom?"

“Just gimme five minutes, I have to take off my makeup first.”

You feel Elvis’ presence behind you before you see him, the heat of his gaze pressing against your skin like a physical touch.

You meet his eyes in the mirror, see him leaning shirtless against the doorframe, thumbs hooked in the waistband of his silk pajama pants. That luscious beard frames the wicked slash of his smile. He looks so good it's almost sinful. "See something you like?" His voice is a husky rumble.

"You could say that." You bite your lip, watching his eyes darken. "I really, really like this new look on you."

He prowls closer, crowding you against the vanity. "Yeah? Is that so?"

You turn in his arms, running your hands appreciatively over the firm planes of his chest. "It makes you look dangerous. Sexy."

Elvis dips his head to nuzzle your throat, the coarse brush of his whiskers making you shiver. "Sexy, huh? How sexy?"

"So sexy it should be illegal." You drag your mouth to his, kissing him with rising urgency. "Take me to bed," you demand against his lips. "Now."

Elvis wastes no time complying, lifting you easily into his arms and carrying you to the bed. He tumbles you onto the sheets, covering your body with his, both of you already breathing hard.

He undresses you slowly, almost reverently, rough fingertips and soft lips and scratchy beard worshipping every inch of skin he unveils. When he finally settles between your thighs, the first intimate rasp of his whiskers makes you cry out, fisting your hands in his hair.

"God, the way you taste," Elvis rasps against your slick folds, his voice rough with desire. "I'll never get enough."

He seals his lips around your most sensitive bundle of nerves and sucks gently, making you cry out and fist your hands in his hair. He groans in response, the vibrations shooting sparks of electricity through your core.

"Please," you whimper, hips rocking shamelessly against his face. "Don't stop..."

Elvis answers with a deep, approving hum, the tip of his tongue flicking over you in maddening little licks. "Never," he murmurs, beard and hot breath on your inner thighs a delicious contrast to his soft, demanding mouth on you. "Want to make you fall apart, over and over. Worship you with my mouth until you forget everything but my name..."

His words, low and fervent and filthy, push you to the brink as much as his dedicated ministrations. You sob out a broken plea as he wraps his lips around you again and sucks hard, pushing two thick fingers into your dripping channel at the same time.

"That's it, baby," he coaxes gutturally, crooking his fingers just right and rubbing ruthless circles around your swollen, aching bud. "Let me feel you, let me taste you falling apart..."

With a keening cry you shatter, back bowing and fingers clutching desperately at the sheets as your release crashes over you in pulsing waves. Elvis works you through it with lips and tongue and fingers, drawing out your pleasure until you collapse against the sheets, boneless and trembling. His beard is gleaming with your slick.

As you slowly come down from your high, you feel Elvis pressing tender kisses to your inner thighs, his whiskers a thrilling friction on your sensitive skin. You tug gently on his hair, urging him up your body until you can capture his mouth in a deep, languorous kiss. You taste yourself on his tongue and it makes you shudder, your spent body already sparking with renewed desire.

"I wanna make you feel good too," you murmur against his lips, nipping playfully at the full bottom one. "I want to show you how much I missed you, how much I need you..."

Elvis' groan is low and needy as you push gently at his shoulders, encouraging him onto his back. You take your time mapping his chest with lips and fingers, re-memorizing every ridge and plane. He's lost in pleasure, muscles jumping under your touch, his breathing ragged as you chart a slow, meandering path down his long torso.

When you reach the waistband of his pajamas, you pause, looking up at him from under your lashes as you hook your fingers under the elastic. Elvis meets your gaze, his own heated and dark with want, his lips parted as he pants softly. Slowly, teasingly, you peel the fabric down, your heart racing in anticipation as his hardness is revealed inch by tortuous inch.

"God, look at you," you breathe, taking in the proud jut of his cock straining towards his belly. A thrill chases down your spine knowing that you did that to him, that he wants you just as desperately as you want him. "Look at this husband of mine... so hard for me already."

"Always," Elvis rasps, his voice strained and his hands fisting in the sheets as you ghost your fingers up his length. "Feels like I'm going to burst out of my skin with how bad I need you..."

You hum in satisfaction, running your thumb over the slick head and making him shudder. Slowly, you lower your lips, never breaking eye contact as you breathe hotly over where he's aching for you. "Let me take care of you," you whisper, a promise and a plea all in one. "Let me show you how much I love you."

Then you take him into your mouth, and the broken moan that spills from his lips is the most beautiful sound you've ever heard.

You work him with spit and fingers and lips and tongue and just the barest hint of teeth, relishing every helpless sound you wring from him. You can feel how close he is, his thighs trembling, his grip on your hair bordering on painful. With a wicked hum, your relax your your throat and take him as deep as you can.

Elvis lets loose a stream of garbled curses, his hips jerking erratically. "Fuck, sweetheart, I'm gonna—"

But you just doubl your efforts, holding his gaze as you hollow your cheeks and suck hard. With a guttural cry, Elvis spills himself down your throat, his chest heaving as you gentle him through his sweet release.

"Christ," he pants as you release him and crawl up to drape yourself over his chest. "That was... You are..." He gives up and just hauls your mouth to his, kissing you breathless.

As you trade slow, deep kisses, you feel Elvis stirring against your thigh once more. A thrill chases down your spine at the evidence of his desire, your own body responding in kind. Wrapping your hand around his length, you stroke him gently, savoring the velvety heat of him and the way he pulses in your grip. "Already?" you tease. "Someone's eager."

Elvis nips your bottom lip. "Six weeks," he reminds you, rocking into your grip with a grunt. "You're lucky I lasted five minutes."

Giggling, you straddle his his hips, rubbing yourself along his length until you are both panting. "I think you ought to get to practicing then," you purr. "We've got weeks to make up for."

Elvis groans into your mouth, his hips rocking instinctively into you. "Need you," he pants against your lips, voice rough with want. "Need to be inside you..."

You nod desperately, just as aching to have him filling you up after so long apart. Rising up on your knees, you position him at your entrance, your breath catching as you slowly sink down onto his rigid length. His beard rasps against your neck, sending shivers up your spine.

Your body resists the intrusion at first, unaccustomed to the stretch after weeks without him. Elvis gentles you through it with soft kisses and soothing caresses, whispering words of love and praise as you take him inch by careful inch. The slight discomfort quickly melts into exquisite pleasure as he breaches you fully, your inner walls fluttering around him as you adjust to the thick, heavy feel of him inside you.

"God, baby," Elvis rasps, his big hands gripping your hips almost tight enough to bruise. His eyes are squeezed shut and his brow furrowed in concentration, as if he's fighting for control. "You feel so good. So tight. Like you were made just for me..."

You let out a shuddering sigh as you settle fully into his lap, relishing the sensation of being one with him again. "I was," you breathe, rolling your hips experimentally and making you both gasp. "Only for you. Always."

Slowly, you start to move, rising up until he nearly slips out of you before sliding back down to the hilt. Elvis meets your every downward stroke with an upward roll of his pelvis, burying himself impossibly deep. You set a slow, burning rhythm, sweat beading on your skin as you rock together, drawing out every delicious drag of him inside you.

Your fingers dig into his shoulders and your thighs tremble with exertion, but you barely register the strain. All you can focus on is your husband—his panting breaths and reverent gaze, the thick slide of his cock stretching you again and again, the heat of his body surrounding you and grounding you. In this moment, joined so intimately after what felt like an eternity apart, everything else fades away.

"Missed this," you grit out, your hands roaming restlessly over his back, his neck, scratching the dark hair on his jaw. "Missed you. I love you so damn much."

You rock together, slow and dirty, skin slick with sweat. Clutching at his shoulders, his back, urging him deeper, harder. The wiry scrape of his chest hair and beard against your sensitive nipples makes you writhe on top of him, the added stimulation almost too much to bear.

"Touch yourself," he rasps in your ear, changing the angle of his hips so he is grinding against your clit with every stroke. "Make yourself come on my cock, sweetheart."

You obey with a whimper, fingers flying to your center. Elvis eases you onto your back, gripping your thighs as he gently eases back into you, eyes black with lust as he watches you touch yourself. A private show for his eyes only.

The sight of him above you—miles of tanned skin, thick forearms corded with muscle, narrow hips rolling into you—combined with the magic you are working between your legs undoes you in record time. With a desperate whimper, you convulse around him, fingernails scoring his chest as you fall apart.

"I love you so much," Elvis sighs, fucking you through it. "One more, baby, give me one more."

He lowers himself even closer to you now, spreading your knees wide against his thighs and hugging you close to his chest. Enveloping you and never letting you go. You cling onto him with a sob, the new position letting him fill you impossibly deep. Elvis’ hands cup your backside, helping to fuck you a slow, tantalizing rhythm.

“My wife, my wife,” he moans and his beard rasps the tender skin of your neck and he bites and sucks, stoking the heat building low in your belly.

"Elvis," you keen, fingernails digging into his shoulders. He holds you closer, whispering unintelligibly into your ear. "Oh god..."

He reaches between your bodies to rub tight circles around your bud, and the sensation combined with the delicious drag of him inside you sends you flying. You come with a silent scream, back arching, stars exploding behind your eyelids.

Elvis follows you a heartbeat later, burying his face in your neck with a muffled shout. You rock together through the aftershocks, until you collapse bonelessly underneath his sweat-slicked chest.

Tumbling back against the pillows, you are a tangle of sated, trembling limbs. Elvis’ big hands soothe up and down your belly, his lips pressing soft kisses to your sweat-damp temple.

"Why do I ever leave?," he murmurs roughly. "I hate being away from you and the kids. Felt like I left a piece of myself behind." He pauses. "This is my favorite part of coming home. Having you in my arms again."

Emotion clogs your throat. "I wish it could always be like this." You look up at him, tracing his bearded jaw tenderly. "That you didn't have to leave so often."

"About that..." Elvis' arms tighten around you. "I've been thinking a lot lately. Y'know, about the stuff that really matters to me. And that's you and the kids. I'm gonna talk to Parker, see about cutting back on some of these long stretches away."

Your heart soars even as you search his face cautiously. "You mean it? You'd do that?"

"For you, mama? Anything." He seals his promise with a slow, sweet kiss. "I'm here now. and I aim to be here a lot more."

Tears prick your eyes, joy and relief overwhelming. "I'd love that," you whisper, lacing your fingers with his. "The kids would too."

“Yeah, me too,” he sighs. “Feels like I lose a little piece of me every time I’m gone.”

You nuzzle into his neck, relishing the prickle of his beard on your well-loved skin. "Looks like you found a new piece while you were gone," you tease. "I must say, I'm a fan."

"You really like it?" Elvis sweeps a hand over his scruffy jaw, grinning. "Maybe I'll keep it. Hey, if it gets you this hot for me, I may never shave again."

You just laugh, pulling him down for a long, slow kiss. You’d had a feeling that this stint away had made him rethink his priorities, and that maybe you’d be seeing a lot more of him— beard and all—in the coming months.

And as you snuggle down into your husband's embrace, his contented rumble vibrating through you, you decide there was nowhere on earth you’d rather be than right here, wrapped up in his arms. Beard burn and all.

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anemhoez · 21 days

Text

Yashiro Rascal…

Ayato/AFAB Reader

WARNINGS: language, unprotected sex, light choking and degradation

A/N: THE THINGS THAT YASHIRO RASCAL MAKES ME FEEL!! 😤 hes not pookie but DADDY 🥴

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

Peace amongst the various commissions in Inazuma became of the utmost importance after the vision hunt decree was lifted. The heads of every commission in the city met monthly to deliberate and come to mutual understanding on how best to run everything and make sure that everyone received what was owed to them.

As you were the newest leader of the commission you were raised in, you went out of your way to keep the peace amongst you and the other groups. Your reputation was important and you wanted to let others know you could earn your keep. You met with the leaders and established the boundaries of each commission’s territories, keeping the wishes of the common folk in mind.

But when it came to the Yashiro commission, the largest in the city, there always seemed to be trouble that followed them. Just recently, there was an altercation in one of your businesses. Members of the rival commissions were banned from this particular establishment and usually that rule was respected. But, out of all the other bars that welcomed the Yashiro commission with open arms, they made it a point to visit yours. You pondered what the reason could have been as your subordinate explained the situation. “What should we do next boss?” your right hand asked as you observed all the damage and sighed. “Go straight to the Kamisato estate and take care of this personally,” you said with determination in your voice.

After much protest from your crew to accompany you, you practically ran to the estate alone, being fueled by a rage you’ve never experienced before. You bypassed the guards that went for you, easily knocking them down with the use of your vision, not once having to unsheathe your sword. Once you entered the grounds, you headed straight for the entrance of the home.

You slid open the doors and demanded the nearest servant to direct you to Ayato’s office. The servant, fearing for their life, quickly guided you to the office and slid the door open for you in haste. You immediately met the intimidating stare of Ayato Kamisato himself. “I thought I told you to keep your goons out of my bar!” your voice was loud as you spoke directly to Ayato, ignoring his retainer that headed over to you. “Stand down Thoma,” Ayato said with a wave of his hand. Thoma bowed to his employer and headed out, but not without a glance in your direction, one that you deliberately ignored.

Ayato sighed as he sat down, the smirk on his face was way too cocky for your liking. “Was there an incident?” his voice was as sarcastic as ever. He reached for his smoking pipe, the elaborately carved wood clacking against the table in front of him as he packed it with tobacco. “Would I even be here if there wasn’t?!” your vision began to glow at your side, your anger building and threatening to explode in the fury of an electro burst.

Ayato put the pipe between his lips, lighting it with a match. He inhaled slowly, keeping an eye on you as he exhaled. “My men said your people started it, that they were only passing by and were suddenly attacked.” The gall of him to lie through his teeth right in front of you. The smugness that emanated from him as he sat there vindictively while you waited for answers was infuriating. The room was quiet as he smoked, his eyes going to the papers in front of him. He was deliberately ignoring you. “Mr. Kamisato, I’m not leaving here until we settle this.” You spoke calmly, the man still just puffed away on his pipe, the smirk that spread on his face was the last straw.

You grabbed the hilt of your blade, the sound causing his eyes to finally look over at you. You unsheathed your sword, slashing at the air in front of him quickly, putting your blade away before he had a chance to counter. The bowl of the pipe clattered onto the table, the still lit tobacco scattered all over his papers. Ayato looked up at you, the stem of the pipe still in his mouth. The man took the stem and tossed it on the table, “That was a family heirloom.” Ayato stood up and walked over to you, his stride as elegant and clam as ever. “You have my attention Y/n.”

You kept your distance, “Why is it always your men that seem to be the only ones running around as if they own the place? No other commission causes this much trouble.” Ayato held his hands behind his back and cocked his head to the side, “A little friendly rivalry, some shenanigans here and there never hurt anyone.” His arrogance was sickening, the look on his face begging to be slapped right off. “Mr, Kamisato, you’re not realizing the severity of the situation, this isn’t merely some childish game, this is a declaration of war,” you explained, the look on your face caused his to change to one of concern. You came closer and poked his chest, “Did you fucking hear me?! I said that-!” he cut you off with a kiss before you chastised him further.

You pushed him away from you, immediately grabbing the hilt of your blade. He put his hands up, shaking his head, “My apologies,” he sighed deeply, “for archons sake Ayato, you fool,” the man said under his breath. The sensation of his lips on yours was something you’d never expect to feel, and you hated how good it felt. “What the fuck was that?!” you yelled, your stance not wavering. He rubbed the back of his head, doing his best to avoid eye contact with you. “Theres just something about you that I find, quite mesmerizing.” He bowed to you, “Im incredibly sorry about that, truly.”

You scoffed and sheathed your sword back in its scabbard, standing back in a relaxed position, “I certainly hope that you don’t make it a hobby to kiss your enemies,” you bit your lip, stopping yourself from forgiving him. “Don’t think you can distract me with that kiss,” you spat as you moved closer to him, “we’re not done here Mr, Kamisato.” He gestured for you to sit across from him at the low coffee table. “Please, call me Ayato.”

You declined his offer to sit, choosing instead to stay standing, far away from him, “Ayato, you owe me for the repairs and products lost, and a kiss isn’t going to fix it,” you explained to him and he just scoffed. “That kiss was a reaction to you storming in here and putting me in my place. It was, quite enthralling,” his voice want low, his eyes meeting yours as you looked down at him. You put a hand on your hip, “Is that so? Whats wrong Ayato? Got no one to share a kiss with?” you teased him, somewhat hoping you had hurt his feelings even if by a little.

The azure haired man scoffed, taking the nearby teapot and pouring the both of you a cup. “The people that I share kisses with, treat me like royalty,” he took a long sip from the teacup, placing it back down on the table when he was done, “its gotten so boring.” You raised an eyebrow and finally came to sit across from him. You sighed and pulled a small flask from your sleeve and took a swig. He pushed his cup towards you and you reluctantly poured some liquor in the cup for him. “Thank you,” he said before downing the warm tea laced with courage. “Lets stick to business Ayato,” you said in response to what seemed like his attempt to flirt. He nodded and met your gaze with soft eyes, “Right, I’ll speak to my men, and make sure everything is paid for.” He seemed so much more vulnerable now, so much more inviting with his guard down like this. But, knowing him and the ruthless leader that he was known to be, you kept your own guard up.

“This can’t happen again Ayato! Do you understand?” you stood up, hoping the two of you could put this incident behind you. The man before you nodded, his piercing gaze meeting yours as he stood. He bowed with a hand on his chest, “You have my word Y/n.” And now that that business was settled, you could move onto seeing if he was all talk, or if he was actually interested. As he walked before you, your hand reached out, as if it had a mind of its own, and caught his long sleeve. He turned to look at you, surprised but not worried about your proximity. You then took his hand and intertwined your fingers together, pulling him closer to you. “This stays between the two of us, alright ?” your voice was but a whisper as you leaned in and kissed him.

He brought his hands to your waist and pulled you closer, his strong hands gripping you tight. You wrapped your arms around his neck and deepened the kiss, your tongue meeting his for the first time. Your rival lifted you up and walked with you to one of the nearby walls. As your back hit the wall, Ayato sucked on your neck desperately trying to mark you. He palmed at your clothed heat with one hand and held you up with the other, his kiss intense and needy. “Ayato wait,” you huffed and he pulled away, his lips swollen and eyes pensive. You saw the lust in his eyes, he wanted you, badly.

You touched the hem of his pants, undoing one of the ties, relieved that there wasn’t too many layers to get through before meeting his hardness. You moved him so that he was now the one up against the wall and you got down on your knees. “Slow down, lets make this worth our time.” you said as you looked up at him with a devilish grin. You pumped his shaft and took his tip into you mouth, swirling your tongue against it. Ayato moaned softly and chuckled, “Looks like that mouth of yours is good for more than just yelling.” he teased and you took him in further. He threw his head back as his length hit the back of your throat.

You moved up and down on his shaft, letting your mouth salivate heavily over him. You made a mess of yourself, your sloppy mouth slurping and sucking loudly. One of his hands grabbed your hair tugging it harshly causing you to look up at him and move all the way down to his base, never breaking eye contact. You breathed through your nose, inhaling the sweet sakura scent on his soft blue hairs. You watched as his eyes rolled back, a deep moan mixed with a yelp came from his mouth. There was a sudden knock at the door, “My lord? Is everything alright in there?” Thoma’s muffled voice came from the other side of the door. You pulled off of him with a pop, letting your tongue fall out of your mouth as you stared up at him. He looked down at you as you began to pump him with both hands, your tongue dripping sticky white saliva on him. “Yes, everything’s alright, please carry on with your duties.” he huffed out reassuring his employee.

He pulled you to your feet by your hair and you moaned out at his roughness. “Had I known you were that good, I would’ve made a move much earlier.” he growled and licked the drool that dripped from your mouth. You giggled as he pulled at your clothes and helped you out of your dress. “As if you would’ve stood a chance.” you teased and tugged at his cock. “you’re just lucky i feel sorry for you right now.” He chuckled and held the back of your neck, guiding you to the floor. The usual regal and composed man in front of you desperately went to kiss, lick and suck on your breasts, taking each nipple in his mouth and sucking hard. He was intoxicated by your body, roaming his hands down your belly and to your thighs. “Gods, you’re divine.” He said in between sucks, “I’ve craved you for so long.” Your interest was suddenly piqued, “Oh? I wonder if that craving had anything to do with my bar being destroyed ?” you asked with a giggle.

You opened your legs for the leader of the Yashiro commission and he slid his gloved hand between your legs. He moved to kiss you and his fingers pushed deeper into you, “Unfortunately, I don’t know anything about that.” he said with a smirk and leaned back to remove the layers that covered his body. He bit the tips of his gloves and pulled them off before moving back to kiss you as he prodded at your entrance. He held the base of his cock and coated himself in your juices, grunting as he felt your wetness on him. “Is that so?” you huffed out as he slowly entered you, the stretch catching you off guard. “I’ll make you regret that Ayato,” you moaned as your walls clenched down on him as soon as he entered.

He groaned and stopped suddenly, his hands coming to either side of you as your warmth and tightness practically stunned him. “Too tight for you?” you said in jest and wrapped your legs around him, “No wonder you’re always so stubborn and cocky, you’ve never had a pussy like this to put you in your place.” you spat and watched him try to keep himself together as you pulsated on him. His hands came to your thighs and he pushed your legs back, practically by your ears. “More ahhh,” he said as you squeezed him inside tightly, “tell me more.” He pulled out and thrust back in harshly. your words caught in your throat as his cock hit your spot perfectly.

“Fucking Yashiro commission scum, can’t even fuck right.” You spoke harshly, moving your hands to rest on his abs, “you think you can please me with that pencil dick of yours-ahh!” You felt him hit your cervix, his long dick almost too much for you. Ayato groaned and came back to your neck, “Pencil dick? Your body says otherwise slut.” Your breath hitched, your nails scratching at his abs, the wonders his dick was doing to you causing your mind to go fuzzy. “Mmmh, fuck y-you ahh!” you yelped and wished you hadn’t given him that satisfaction. Now he knew exactly how to wreck you. “You want it harder? Faster perhaps?” his nails dug into your thighs, his hips rolled into you, making sure he hit your spot every time after seeing your reaction. “Faster, fuck me faster, please,” you begged and he picked up the pace.

Your breasts bounced faster, your hands coming to them to squeeze and suck on them. Ayato watched you, grunting and pistoning his dick inside you ruthlessly. “Ahhh Ayato fuck!” you cried out as your back arched. “You fucking prick!” you sighed still gripping your breasts tightly, making eye contact with him while you degraded him. The sound of his name spilling from your lips and the names you called him, gave him such a boost. He decided to slow down, to look at you tenderly and see the reactions you made. “Huh? wheres the aggression? I’m not going to break you know,” your voice was shaky, your hands moved to tangle in his hair.

Ayato chuckled and moved to kiss you, “You feel incredible, I’m afraid I may finish far too early, and that just wouldn’t be fair to you,” he said reluctantly and laughed at himself. He rolled his hips against you slowly, “Should I get on top then?” you offered and moved to straddle him. The two of you adjusted quickly and you began to ride him. “So you mean to destroy me I see?” he smiled at you as you bounced on his cock. You couldn’t help but smile back and put your hands around his neck, “Hush now, be a good boy and fuck me.” you said against his lips, and he happily obliged.

Your head lolled back, exposing your neck and he moved to suck and nibble, marking you as his, at least for the time being. Ayato buried his face in your breasts, licking your skin and sucking wherever his tongue could reach. His eagerness to please you mixed with the way he pumped up into you caused your gut to stir as you felt your peak nearing. Your hands squeezed his neck tighter, “I’m so, fucking close!” You praised and panted, his hands came to grip your ass and hold you as close as possible. He continued to suck on your nipples as you climaxed, you body convulsing and walls clenching hard onto him.

You silenced your moans by burying your face in his shoulder, your body going limp as you milked every ounce of pleasure that wracked your body. He huffed and moaned as he lifted you up and fucked you fast and hard, soon reaching his own peak with a deep guttural grunt. His seed shot into you, hot and sticky, a mistake in every sense of the word but the feeling more delicious than either of you could imagine. “Do you always fuck like that?” your lips came to place gentle kisses on his cheek and neck. The leader of the Yashiro commission laughed hard, looking up at you as you moved to stand up. “In all honesty no, but I’ve been a bit pent up as of late, you just happened to be at the wrong place at the right time.”

The two of you dressed, doing your best to look presentable before heading outside. You stood awkwardly in front of one another, as if you hadn’t just shared a very intimate and passionate moment. “Well, I’ll take my leave,” you bowed to him,“also, please forgive me for barging in earlier.” He shook his head as he walked you to the door, “Don’t fret, I’ve already forgotten about it.” he said as he tucked a lock of hair behind your ear. “Hopefully, we can handle any future endeavors, just as amicably.” You couldn’t help but give him one last kiss on the lips as his hand came to your face to cup your cheek gently. You’d be lying to yourself if you said you’d never want to fuck him again, but of course you’d never give him the satisfaction of knowing that. “Perhaps, if you’re lucky.”

He led you outside and walked with you to the front gate, the guards you had attacked earlier quickly stood up to stand in front of Ayato. They practically stumbled over one another as he cleared his throat to address them. “Down on your knees, all of you.” the tone in his voice stern and commanding, a side of him that you normally saw in public. Every one of them bowed down immediately, yelling out and asking you for forgiveness. You simply turned on your heel and gave Ayato a wink as you left.

The whole walk home you thought about Ayato’s touch and desperation while fucking you, a memory you will look back on quite fondly. You were still in a trance as you entered your business, your right hand inquiring about what happened as soon as you stepped through the front door. “Well boss? Did you take care of it?” they asked as you practically skipped to the back room to find an undamaged bottle of wine. “Did I ever!” your voice boomed through the hall with a giddy laugh.

A/N: I WILL NOT ANSWER FOR MY CRIMES!!! I WILL DO ANYTHING FOR HIM!! 😭 hope you enjoyed!!

#genshin impact #genshin impact smut #ayato kamisato #ayato smut #ayato kamisato smut #genshin ayato #ayato x reader #genshin x reader #I WILL BARK FOR HIM BARK BARK BARK

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