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fleuraimer · 5 months

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hi girlies :)). i've got another breeding blurby to share, thank ms. bubbles @harrysonlylover.

wc: 1.6k

cw: talk of menstrual and ovulation cycle, smut, minors dni, 17+, breeding kink, and more. not proofread.

Some people might say that the extent of his knowledge and control over Y/N’s life is not healthy. They might even suggest that his possessive behavior is a red flag, too. The constant messaging, always knowing her location, who she’s with, when she’s with them, why, how…

They didn’t tend to think of it that way. Love comes in all forms and theirs is… different.

Y/N likes being controlled. She wants him to know everything about her. She fucking craves the comfort of being taken care of for the price of absolutely nothing.

Well, maybe a few things.

Her obedience, for one, was expected (required). Her honesty, and loyalty. Her submission, too (although, sometimes, he liked to submit to her).

They’d found a simple way of living on some inherit, basic principles.

One, Y/N loved to be taken care of.

Two, he loved to take care of her.

So that was that. He was controlling, and she reveled in the power imbalance, and they didn’t care if others didn’t understand it, or like it, or even respect it. It was theirs, and it was enough.

It was fucking perfect.

One of the many ways he kept a tight leash on Y/N’s life was by tracking her menstrual cycle. He liked being ahead of the game—warm bath with waterlily scented suds ready for when she arrived home after her courses, her favorite sweet treats scattered across the kitchen island, Gilmore Girls queued up on his laptop, candles lit and heating pad at attention. Keeping track of her period meant knowing other things, intuitively, too. Like knowing that her cramps were worst on the first few days ( they were horrendous the last days too, though), that she’s more cuddly and soft than irritable or grumpy, that if she was too— no, severely stressed, overworking herself mentally, emotionally, and physically, she’d more likely than not work herself into a dreadful tizzy and end up intensifying (or even sometimes missing) her cycle.

Like now.

The poor thing, she was curled up in a frail little ball by end of the night every day this past week, deadlines looming over her head like a dark, rainy cloud as midterms approach. And, stubborn angel girl she is, she doesn’t bleat and moan about it to him. She doesn’t weep into his chest about how difficult this time is the way he encourages her to. She holds her chin high until the sun falls from the sky, her perseverance going with it, the stars and moon left to keep her and her misery company. And him, of course.

So, before the height of her period—when the red devil actually rears her ugly little head instead of inspiring trepidation of the inevitable with sore tits, an achy spine, and mental anguish—he thinks he’ll treat her a bit. And perhaps himself, as well (what? periods meant ovulating, and ovulating meant a lot of things).

———

Y/N’s head is quiet for the first time in days, and it’s all because of him.

As if anyone else could do what he does for her.

“Pretty girl,” he whispers in the place he’s nuzzled into her neck, littered with love bites and bruises. His cock is stuffed in her drippy pussy, stretching her deliciously over his thick, lengthy girth; his strong, beefy arms trapping her body to his like a vice.

Cowgirl usually makes Y/N’s thighs sore, but he’d taken the liberty of doing all the work tonight. He was in no mood for teasing, nor mocking or degrading. She wasn’t his whore tonight, just his girl. His soft, gorgeous, sensitive girl that deserved a sweet fucking after all the tears she’d choked down this week.

She needed a good cry.

“My little pillow princess, Yeah?” He mumbles, peaking up at her sluggish form. She’s slumped into him, head lain on his shoulder uselessly, hands gripping the tight Henley he’d neglected to rid himself of in the rush of their lustrous dance. She manages a nod, however, lazy and slow, but, somehow, still urgent. Frantic. In the glow of her eye, he can see, she adores that idea. “Yeah,” He nods, gripping the soft curve of her jaw to move her head with him, “My girl.”

She whimpers, but doesn’t speak. Too exhausted, too sedated. His cum is addicting, and if it were a drug, she’d inject it right into her veins (up her cunt).

Her arms wind around his neck, fingers spreading through the curly, sweaty tendrils of hair at the nape. Her nails tickle him, in the best way, only adding to the allure of her being. Of her mere presence.

Her hips swivel, rocking against his to create a mind-numbing sensation that has them both mewling. His cock stretches her out and fills her up completely, felt in the deepness of her tummy. Her lashes flutter when she feels him twitch inside of her, a sign that he’s close (she’d realize that she’s much closer if she had the brain capacity to think of anything other than him).

The thought—of his cum filling her to the point of spilling around their joined parts, a filthy mess between their legs—makes her dizzy. Eager. She’d been good, so good, this week, hadn’t she?

Fed herself, cleaned herself, went to class on time, even though school made her unpleasantly weak in the knees. She studied every day for at least three hours at the library, before trudging home with bleary eyes and a foggy head, only to do more studying.

She deserved a treat, right? A reward for staying in line, for not being bratty or whiny when he was busy and all she wanted was for her brain to shut off.

Now, with the opportunity before her (to go totally brain-dead, that is), she refuses to not seize the moment.

“Come,” she says suddenly, catching him mildly off guard.

Oh? She wanted to order him around?

“Please.”

Oh. Guess not.

“Please, please, come, Sir, I want it, so fucking bad,” she whines, mouthing at the chain sitting delicately across his neck. It’s nearly out of place; something so frail and pretty looks almost comical gracing his large, stocky figure. Perhaps that’s how those judgy people saw them, out of place.

She didn’t care though, she thought it looked nice on him. He made it look nice. Made it better, just like he makes everything better.

“Wan’ me t’a stuff you up, Babydoll?” he grunts, thankful that she’d somehow picked up on his primitive, feral need. Or maybe she just wanted it just as bad. “Fill you with my come and make you m’messy girl?”

“Yes, please,” she cries faintly, her lips brushing the shell of his ear, hiding her face in his neck as the tears finally start to flow.

How precious.

“Okay,” he sighs, his hands trailing from her hips to the plush, full of her ass. “I’ll fill y’up, Sugar.” He lifts her up, letting his cock slip from her fluttering hole to the tip— less than the tip. He smears himself onto her clit, making her jolt, and spanks her in reprimand. “Stay still for Daddy,” he scolds softly. “Lemme do my job.”

She cries pitifully when her thrusts back inside, hard. And he doesn’t lighten up. Not in the slightest. He pounds his cock into her small pussy, chasing his orgasm, trying to claim hers, bullying his way through her tight snatch to find them.

“Play with your pouty clit, Doll,” he offers. “Wan’ y’to come with me; cream my fat cock, Baby.”

Y/N does not need to be told twice.

One hand drops from the back of his head to toy with her swollen button, and it takes three weak twirls of her delicate fingers to get her there. He’s not far behind, nuzzling into her neck once more, mirroring her own position on top of him, groaning out profanities as his orgasm washes over him, from his head to the tips of his toes. He continues to drill his cock into her until his legs give out, trembling beneath her own.

They pant heavily, in unison, into each others necks as they start to come down.

He feels good, accomplished. He can feel that satisfaction rolling off of his girl in waves—felt it throughout their soft session—and it was more than enough to keep him happy. His orgasm was just a much appreciated bonus.

And Y/N… she feels great. Cunt clenching over his half-hard cock, full of him, literally, in every way she could be. Thoughts silenced and replaced with rose hued daydreams, floaty, fuzzy sensations that tingle through her entire body and make her slightly sluggish, slow. She feels fucking amazing.

“Hope it takes…” she admits softly, absently. The phrase slips off of her tongue without thought (we’ve established that their are none left in that subby head of hers), and her tone suggests she’s not expecting a reaction.

He gives her one, anyway.

“Say that again,” he demands, grip on her ass tightening, his voice grumbly, deep, shooting a shiver up her spine.

“Huh?”

“Tell Daddy what the fuck you just said, Babydoll.”

Her eyes round out even more, if possible, lips parted, gazing owlishly. Stupidly.

“Said, ‘I hope it takes,’ Daddy,” She whimpers quietly, squeezing around his, once again, stiff prick.

“Shit,” he hisses, eyes fluttering.

It’s like she wanted to stay locked on his cock all night.

…Oh well.

So be it.

“It’ll take, Sugar,” he says after a few moments of tense silence, shifting her up gently, manhandling her with a softness that makes her heart drop to the pit of her stomach. He presses a chaste kiss to her mouth, sweet. Contradictory.

“Daddy’ll make it take.”

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ioniansunsets · 5 months

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✖ Hwei Painting Reader ✖

✖ Word Count: 1.5k

✖ Tags: Established R/S

✖ A/N: I've seen all the voicelines and read his content we ARE HWEI LUKAI SIMPS NOW LETS GO BABES!!!!!!!! I still can't believe this took 3 days to write because I kept re-reading and re-writing things to try to make it less OOC.

I also super kin him as a college student in an arts school. Yes my love, lets stay up to 11am rushing an uninspired assignment together surviving off coffee and instant noodles. Oh no am I triggering a school au thought for Hwei.....maybe......

Oh more art student thoughts, I headcanon his paintings to be like Henri Matisse! He is a Fauvist! I know for a fact !This man will use every single color that exists to paint his world just as he imagines it, who cares what his teachers say! That green stripe on his lover's forehead is meant to be there! Fuck the critics!

----

You had been sitting here for an hour by now, Hwei telling you how badly he wanted to- No. Needed to capture your beauty in the orange hues of the setting sun.

How inspired he was seeing you walk past the window in his studio as you two returned from a walk. The way the light glows as it hit your hair, how your body silhouetted against the glass, the way the shadows cast on the floor just was so perfect in framing sanctity of the moment.

Slowly Hwei walks over, hands soft as they feel your face. Gently, the tips of his fingers trail down from your eyes to your cheeks and finally stopping at your lips. His three favorite parts of your face, all so important in showing him your emotions. An almost lamentable smile crossing his face as he looks down and walks back to the canvas situated slightly further away. You could usually understand him but, sometimes you wish you could understand what darkness held him back.

" I'm always blessed to have such a masterpiece like you love me. How such beauty flourishes besides my despair."

Hwei pauses, thinking of the right words. His hand rising to rest on his chin as he looks around, everywhere but you.

" It eludes me. Yet, it fills me with such honor at the same time."

Hwei speaks to you soft, voice trailing off as he thinks, slowly nodding. The lightest of pink undertones suddenly rising to his cheeks as he thinks again about what he just said.

Oh how he so dearly appreciates your bright existence in his life. Eyes not daring to meet your own for his heart is already threatening to explode just from that brief touch earlier. Emotions were always such an important part of art, he cherishes how you inspire him this way, just seeing your beauty in the world fills him with image after image to paint and bring to life.

You however, notice anyway, his feelings that he tries to hide away from you. The way the colors in his eyes change, another telltale sign of the way you affect him. Your own cheeks now dusted with the same soft pink on his.

You smile, sitting still on the window sill, a soft glow from the setting sun illuminating you from behind as you watch your lover paint. A sight that never stops amazing you, the way his magic throws colors onto the canvas, mixing together to create such visually stunning images, you were so sure those purples and greens don't exist in shadows yet somehow you know he would make it look like the rainbows were there all along.

" You know I only shine this bright because you care for me so, Hwei."

" Ah... Don't flatter me this way, your beauty is your own. I can never make something that really captures your brilliance on a canvas like this. But alas, I believe I have the skills to at least capture my emotions for you down in this one."

You watch on, another hour had passed. The sun had long set, instead, the moonlight and soft glow of the lamp overhead lights up your partner's features as the corners of his lips curl up into a smile. Unable to hold back his excitement as the empty canvas slowly fills up with color and form. His hands gracefully gliding across the scene, you watch how his clothes move around him, how the shadows move on his exposed collar as his arm raises to work. His hair bouncing behind him as he paces around, making sure he views you from every angle, catching all the important details to this moment. His eyes darting back and forth from your form to his canvas. After a while, the finishing touches finally placed, he steps back and gives a relieved sigh. He was usually so hard on himself to create perfection, but when it comes to a portraiture of you, he can't help but agree he made a masterpiece. You were stunning, so anything made in your image was stunning to him too.

" Take a look."

Hwei walks to your side, hand out for support as you held onto it and hopped off the windowsill. He guides you to the canvas, hand gently resting on the dip of your lower back. Eventually he moves to stand behind you, resting his head on your shoulder, arms now around you in a hug from behind. You can feel his anxiety, the silence in the air heavy as you carefully consider his work, a slight tremble in his grip around your waist. Of course, you only have good things to say about it, he's an art prodigy if you've ever seen one. Avant Garde work but undeniably breathtaking. As you finally look at the completed work in front of you, you were pleasantly surprised to see how once again, he left your breathless with just how he sees you.

" I can't lie Hwei, this is amazing. Everything you make is amazing to me I could never wield colors the way you do. To think that this was how you saw me."

As you speak you can feel him heat up against your back, his head slowly tilting down as he hides his face into the crook of your neck. His art of you was just one of the small ways he tries to show you his love.

" Thank you."

He whispers softly into your skin. You giggle softly, reaching up to rest your hand against his. After placing a soft kiss on the corner where your clothes meet your skin, he pulls away to stand in front of you, eyes finally meeting yours as you catch sight of gold flecks floating across his irises. He was so visibly happy to just be here, to see you happy with his work. Hwei takes a deep breath. Calming himself as he looks at you, taking in the sight of you in front of him, you can tell how his thoughts were flooding him as the two of you stood there in comfortable silence before he finally speaks.

" My dear, you bring out the light in me no matter how much it dims.

How you seem to quell that darkness is beyond me. I see so many colors when I'm with you...

The reds of your passionate love, the soft yellow of your happiness when were together, the lingering orange of comfort that you have around me all the time. And that is not even touching the blues and purples when you watch me work with amazement."

Hwei reaches out to you, one hand caressing your cheek while the other reaches around your waist to pull you in. You laugh, watching how his eyes swirl, reds fading into yellows briefly before oranges transform before your eyes into cool blues and purples as he describes you, his usually melancholic smile warping into a warm bright one.

Your heart begins to race, something about how the shadows on his face visibly lighten with his smile, paired with the excitement bubbling out of him as he exposes his precious thoughts to you. How you wish you had a way to capture this moment just as he did by painting you.

He leans forward slowly, resting his forehead against yours as his gaze casts downwards, watching your lips, taking in the curve, the way it moves as they part to breathe. He was just so taken in by you.

" May I kiss you?"

He asks, barely a whisper, somehow still seemingly uncertain in this partnership that you two have had for so long. His gaze slowly moving back up to your eyes as he awaits your answer.

" I am forever baffled by how you always ask first. You know I'd always welcome your love."

You offer him a soft chuckle, the sparkle in your eyes further reassuring him of your sentiments.

You could never say no to his sweet affections, he was always so careful with you, so gentle, so soft. You were but the most precious thing in his life after all, a blindingly bright beacon of hope in his darkest hours. A stunning jewel of ever changing colors in the light of his mundane existence. If the painting that sits at arms length from you is a testament to anything, you knew he was oh so in love with you.

Hwei lets out a small laugh of his own.

" I just like the reassuring comfort of your answer."

As he finishes his sentence, he leans forward, closing that tiny gap between your lips. You smile into the kiss, you can't help it, the feeling of his dry, chapped lips against yours was so endearing. You note to remind him to hydrate later, almost forgetting how he just spent two hours non-stop painting you with fervent passion.

As he pulls away, Hwei holds you closer to him, pressing your body against his in a tight hug. A satisfied sigh escaping him.

" I love you."

" I love you too."