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supernaturalistthings · 1 month

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Roadhouse

Dean Winchester x Female!Reader

Warnings: +18 contains smut

Summary: You have had feelings for Dean Winchester for a while and never thought you guys would be more than friends but on a case Dean's jealousy gets the best of him and the truth comes out.

You set your takeout box on the desk and sigh, putting a hand to your head to rub between your eyebrows looking for some kind of stress relief. Detective Bass eyes you and sets his takeout box on the table separating the two of you and leans in, setting one of his hands on the table. His gaze is intense and it puzzles you further.

“We will figure this out” he finally says

He was partially correct, he just had the wrong “We”. You and Dean would figure this out, you had been on this case for two days now and still hadn't pinpointed what exactly was attacking the women in this town. You were utterly exhausted, this cheap pencil skirt keeps riding up, the fluorescent lighting is giving you a headache, and the autopsy results are starting to blur.

“Hey you want to turn in” he says, reaching around the table to rest his hand on your thigh. Don't get it twisted, Detectives Bass’s sharp features, dark hair, and lean build could make any woman's head turn however you have had a certain hunter on your mind and had for a while now. As if on cue you hear a familiar voice say

“Hope i'm not interrupting” Bass’s hand flinches back as Dean stands in the doorway with his hands in his pockets.

He tensely walks forwards and takes a seat on your side of the table. Straightening his suit out as he does. He sends a look laced with daggers into your profile and you tense. You know he's as annoyed about this case as you were and try to let it go.

“You're not, we were just finishing up actually” You reply. You stand up and start to gather the files on the table when you look over. Dean's eyes aren't on you but on the detective across the table, His jaw is locked and his hand is clenched in a fist so hard that his knuckles are turning white. You turn your attention back to the papers and then look up and make direct eye contact with the detective. He was looking directly at you with his hand running over his bottom lip and chin, if you didn't know better you'd say that was lust in his eyes.

“Well it's been a pleasure working with you tonight Agent Seager…” he says referring to you, “... it's just been wonderful” He reaches a hand out intended for you to take, and you do. You shake his hand and he looks so deeply into your eyes, he might be able to see through you.

The silence is interrupted by Dean clearing his throat and standing and reaching his hand out to shake the detective's “Pleasures all mine” their hand meets and the tension is palpable. Dean is intense right now and it makes Bass shift on his feet. Your confusion was probably written on your face. Dean drops his hand but not his gaze and you put your hand on his upper arm to break the match. Dean looks at you annoyed, rolls his eyes and starts making his way towards the door with you following behind. You try to match his pace as you two hastily head toward the exit.

The big exit doors open and as soon as they do Dean turns back and without saying anything grabs your hand and starts literally walking you to the car. You're struggling to keep his pace and your mind is racing at his touch, but also his demeanor and why it is the way it is. You both come upon the car. You open the door and get in and slam it behind you, fueled by Dean's attitude. He does the same and you finally cut the tension as the engine roars to life and he pulls out of the parking lot.

“What is your issue?” You say snarkily

He says nothing and stares at the road ahead, tightening his grip on the steering wheel.

“Whatever” you say after realizing from the length of his silence that he had no intention of answering your question. You sit and contemplate what you could've done to annoy him so much and anticipate seeing the motel come into vision. But it doesn't. A run down roadhouse does. Probably even the gnarliest bikers wouldn't even touch this place yet, here we are. You snap your head in his direction the second he parks and say

“What in the actual hell are we doing here?” He rolls his eyes and looks over in your direction in one swift motion. He looks down your entire body and back up again to meet your eyes. This isn't unusual. You have caught him doing it before but never so blatantly and certainly not while harboring such annoyance for you, or what you thought was annoyance. You had always wondered if it meant anything to Dean the way you hoped it had.

It was hard to care that he was annoyed with you when he looks as stunning as he does. His tie is now loose, his jaw is sharp, his hair is slightly tousled from running hand through it occasionally on the drive to the roadhouse. It was possible you were also giving him a subconscious once over and he must have noticed. He smirks and his eyes flicker from your lips to your eyes.

“I'll forget you let Detective Bass have the pleasure of undressing you with his eyes if you join me for a drink” he says still smirking and with a bluntness that stirs something inside of you but you're quick to retort

“I didn-”

“Yes or no..” he says interrupting and without breaking eye contact, still smirking.

Your mind is racing with all the possibilities right now, swimming with all the endless ways this night could unfold. All you can say is

“Yes” with that he grins a jackpot smile and opens his door to get out you're too stunned to move when your door opening breaks you from your thoughts. You turn and see Dean's hand stretched out for you to take. You follow your eyes up and meet his green ones and they're a shade that you've never noticed before with an apparent sparkle. You take his hand and allow him to lift you out of the seat of the impala. He shuts the door behind and you and you take one last glance at each other before you both head hand in hand into the rundown roadhouse.

He opens the door for you and and you're confronted with a loudly playing “Night Moves’ by Bob Seager, rainbow strobe lights and the smell of cheap beer and cigarettes. You look over at Dean with a look that says really? and he says

“Oh cmon, give it a chance” and with that he takes his hand that was previously holding yours and grabs your waist and pulls you to him. You're tucked firmly into his side and he walks the both of you over to the bar and orders a beer, a shot of whiskey for himself and a tequila cran for you. Your favorite, he noticed.

The first round comes and goes and so does a second and half of the third before you need a bathroom. You wait for Dean to finish a genuinely engaging story, all of them have been you love just talking and getting to know him without the thought of the world's doom on your shoulders. Right now it feels like only you two matter and every word that spills from his beautiful lips fuels this. You say you'll be right back and he smiles as you silently slightly struggle to lift yourself off the seat, It felt like you had been on for way too long.

You make your way to the bathroom and open it up and find it's not as gross as you were expecting. Shocked and pleased, you head to the sink and look at yourself in the mirror. Your hair is slightly disheveled from running your hands through it while talking with Dean, your dress shirt had opened an extra button and your skirt was becoming a little too short. You looked kinda hot in a messy sort of way but you decided to straighten yourself out and splash some water on your face to hopefully offset the alcohol coursing through your system at the moment.

You rest your hands on either side of the sink and try to compose yourself with use of your reflection when the door you thought you locked behind you opens and shuts. You quickly turn around to face the intruder and are met with Dean. He's staring at you in a way that takes your breath away and urge to curse him out for barging in. He looks at you the way you've always wanted him to look at you. He’s breathless himself when he slowly reaches his hand behind him to turn the lock on the door.

His eyes don't leave yours. He takes a few steps forward until you can feel each other's breath fanning over each other's cheeks. You can't think of anything else other than the hue of his green eyes, the few freckles he has, and how kissable his lips look.

“You drive me crazy… and you have for a while now” he says as he lifts his hand to brush some hair from the sides of your face.

“What-” you say, feeling like you're gasping for air.

“I can't see you with anyone else… ever'' there's a brief silence and then he tilts his head and whispers against your neck “i adore you… you have no idea what you do to me..” his hands slowly and tenderly grasp your waist and you’re having trouble deciphering if this is actually happening or if that third tequila cran has you hallucinating on the sidewalk somewhere. All you know is his hands feel really real on your waist and his breath on your neck travels all the way down to where you want him most, that also feels very real.

“Say anything..please… I'll take anything right now…” He pulls back without taking his hands away from your waist, thankfully, the feeling is electrifying. His face has a tinge of worry of doubt and you can't stand it.

“I feel the same…” You say taking the sides of his face into your hands. You watch as the doubt is erased from his face and that jackpot Dean Winchester grin creeps its way onto his face once again.

“...I have for a while now” you say with your own grin. Proud of stealing his line and finally admitting your feelings to the man you adore. He leans in, sealing your lips and in this moment it feels fate. His hands move from your waist to the sides of your face as if he can't possibly get enough of you. The kiss is passionate, tender, everything you both ever wanted. Your hands ignite wildfires across each other's bodies as you explore and feel what you had both wanted more than anything for a long time now.

He places his hands on the sink behind you, caging you in and breaks the kiss to look down and steady himself. He feels ravenous right now and it's taking everything in him to not rip your clothes off and take you right here. You're not making it any easier as that is exactly what you want right now, it's exactly what you need. He looks up with his mesmerizing green eyes and says

“You have no idea how bad I want you right now...”

“Nothings stopping you...” you say in a whisper hovered against his lips while you regather the sides of his face into your hands. He kisses you again but this time with no sign of an end or hesitation. You pull his tie with both hands until it's undone and throw it to the floor. The kiss is feverish and intense. You love the feeling of him and he feels the same.

You start to undo the many buttons on his dress shirt and he starts to do the same to you almost as if in a race. You fling it off his shoulders and pull it down his strong arms. You help him slide yours down your shoulders and sneak a quick glance as it falls to the floor. You're both panting, desperate for air but even more desperate for each other. He carefully moves his hand over your breasts through your bra and just like that you're a moaning mess.

“I want to see you… all of you” he says as he puts his hands back to your waist and turns you so you're facing the mirror. He unclasps your bra while standing behind you and slides the straps off your shoulders and as you watch as it falls off your frame onto the floor. He's kissing your neck and has his hand on the other side. His free hand is trailing its way from your nipple, to your stomach, to the ends of your now very ridden up pencil skirt.

He pulls it up all the way to your stomach and starts rubbing you through your panties. Soft circles to match the soft wet kisses all over your neck, the other hand moves down your chest and cups your breast and massages. His touch is euphoric and all you want is him. You can feel that all he wants is you from his hardness pressed onto your backside.

“You'll never want another man after what I'm going to do to you… I can promise you that sweetheart…” he whispers against your neck, while continuing to place soft hypnotic kisses, and rub circles over your clothed clit. You can see yourself unraveling through what glimpses you can catch in the mirror. You're rested against his toned chest with your head thrown back and eyes screwed shut moaning and gasping out Dean's name. He has just found his new favorite song.

When he pulls away, you snap your head to look in the mirror just to catch his devious eyes before he turns you once again to face him. He leans down and simultaneously reconnects your lips and lifts you so you're resting on the edge of the sink. His hands are on your thighs and he's standing between them. You guys are kissing all over each other. It's heavenly. You're both grinding against each other and you start to undo his pants and tug them down. He helps and pulls them the rest of the way down.

He's already hard and he's big. Bigger than you'd ever had. You take him into your hands and start pumping him eliciting a string of moans and grunts that only fuels you more. He’s wanted this for so long and it was about to happen. He takes himself from you and looks at you with a question, are you sure? You nod wanting nothing more. He smiles and kisses you again. He hooks a single finger around your panties and moves them to the side. He slides himself along your slick folds, relishing the feeling.

He slightly pushes the tip in and moves in and out slowly giving you time to adjust. He's panting and gasping at the tightness. You're grasping at his shoulders and loving the sensation. He pushes in further and you're singing his name in praise. He starts to move and then moves feverishly. You both have wanted this for so long you can't get enough. Youre hand are running everywhere over eachothers bodies and hes holding you in his strong arms as he fucks you. You can feel yourself unraveling and judging by the slight sloppiness of his thrusts, he's almost there as well. You tighten around him and cum which seems to set him over the edge and the next thing you feel is him spilling out of you.

You're both a mess and simultaneously rest your heads on each other's shoulders trying to catch your breath.

“That was-”

“Amazing” he cuts you off and picks himself off your shoulder still breathless and gives you a quick kiss. Neither of you move, unsure if you ever wanted to leave this bathroom, this moment. You just stay in eachothers eyes for a bit.

“We should get going” you say with a smile crossing your arms around his neck

“So eager for round two?” he replies with that signature smirk grabbing your waist and pulling you off the sink to stand. He holds you there.

“If that's what it takes to get us out of this place faster than absolutely” you say with a laugh and it earns one from him as well. You both redress yourselves, helping each other along the way. You’re both smiling and giddy and it's just comfortable.

You both go to walk hand and hand out of the roadhouse bathroom and as soon as the door opens you're both greeted with an embarrassingly long line of skeevy bar patrons, all shooting daggered stares you and Dean's way.

“Worth it” he says while looking at you, dare you say lovingly.

#dean winchester #dean winchester imagine #dean winchester x reader #supernatural #supernatural headcanon #supernatural imagine #dean winchester headcannons #dean winchester moodboard #dean x reader #dean x you #dean winchester x you #dean winchester one shot #dean #dean winchester smut #dean winchester headcanon #dean winchester x female!reader

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bitbugbites-re · 7 months

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𝙻𝚊𝚙 𝙿𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚘𝚠 | 𝔥𝔢��𝔡𝔠𝔞𝔫𝔬𝔫𝔰

Headcanons on how different RE men would give you their lap as a pillow (and vice versa!)

tumblr exclusive!

characters: Albert Wesker, Carlos Oliveira, Chris Redfield, Ethan Winters, Leon S. Kennedy

gender: gn! reader

cw: FLUFF, (slight) NSFW // lap pillow // ktober

a/n: there are THREE vers. of leon in this post because they give that boy WAY too many damn personalities (re3r, re4r, re6)

𝕬𝖑𝖇𝖊𝖗𝖙 𝖂𝖊𝖘𝖐𝖊𝖗 (any rendition)

Giving you his lap:

Doesn't typically invite you to lay on his lap, you usually are the one to just wiggle your way onto him

Once he picks up on you liking it though, he'd probably offer when you were sad or upset about something

The dude has got rock-hard thighs because of his genetic mutations

It starts to get uncomfy pretty quick, so you gotta grab a pillow for yourself to place under your head (never back down, never WHAT?!)

Sometimes he grabs the pillow for you absent-mindedly because he knows you're gonna ask/get up for it

& NSFW

Usually never leads to anything nsfw, especially so if he's working while you're on his lap

I really only ever see it leading to nsfw stuff in the event that you approach him with the intention of seducing him (in which case it'll be you servicing him -- only sometimes it'll lead to full-on sex, as long as you're forward about wanting it)

Using your lap:

He doesn't automatically lay on your lap -- you're the one who offers it to him and he usually turns it down

It's not that he doesn't like it, he just isn't someone who is too big on physical touch

he also feels embarrassed laying in such a position

When he does lay on your lap, it's usually because you put him there against his will (typically when he's sad)

he secretly likes it

You like to stare into his eyes since they're such a unique color. he claims to hate it (he doesn't, he's just prideful and won't admit he likes cheesy lovey-dovey things)

Gets mad at you if you mess up his hair (doesn't physically stop you though, just grumbles and complains about it half-heartedly)

Can't fall asleep no matter how comfortable your legs are. he's just very particular in the way he falls asleep (and everything else, too)

If he doesn't have anything else to do, he'll usually just lay there and wait for you to fall asleep. If you do, he'll get up and carry you to the bedroom, covering you up before going back to work

& NSFW

Doesn't usually lead to anything nsfw in this scenario either

You gotta lay it on thick if you want him. he's a smart man and he can pick up on social cues -- he just isn't the type to have a high enough sex drive that causes him to jump at every opportunity available

𝕮𝖆𝖗𝖑𝖔𝖘 𝕺𝖑𝖎𝖛𝖊𝖎𝖗𝖆 (re3r)

Giving you his lap:

Will both offer and/or just randomly place you on his lap 24/7

If you get on his lap first without him saying anything, he gets really excited. The "my-cat-fell-asleep-on-me" kind of excited

He's got substantially thick legs. Can be pretty comfortable to lay on when his legs are relaxed -- although sometimes he tenses his legs unconsciously and you have to ask him to unflex them

Has a little bit of trouble staying still for a prolonged period of time. He'll start out pretty still, but if you're having a conversation or he gets too into it, he'll make a lot of movements with his arms and/or upper body

Constantly in awe of you. Trying to look at your face, trying to pet your hair or rub your legs, etc. Just can't get enough of you.

He likes talking to you as you lay on him, too. Not very silent unless you fall asleep on him, in which case, he often glances down to look at your face. Will take pictures of you if you're okay with it, too.

& NSFW

Leads to nsfw things pretty often. In this scenario, you're the one to initiate it most of the time since you're the one by his package

Gets an almost immediate boner every time. Dude's got a high sex-drive and it doesn't take much from you to work him up

If you do end up playing with him in some way, he'll either want to pay you back or have full-on sex

Using your lap:

Literally just throws himself down on you. Most of the time you don't even have to ask if he wants to use your lap. He just does

Makes you pet his hair. Rub his facial scruff. Touch his arms. Dude is needy af

If you're eating something while he's on your lap, he'll just let you feed him. Seriously, you just stick stuff in his mouth and he eats it without saying anything

If your legs start to fall asleep and you ask him to get off, he'll just swap positions with you and put you on his lap instead

Will make you take selfies together while he's on your lap. Then proceeds to send them to his friends (usually Tyrell) as a way to brag about how he has a cool partner

Falls asleep on you really easily and snores loud as FUCK

& NSFW

Will start to get extra touchy if he wants to initiate sex. He'll reach up and cup your face, wrap his arms around your midriff and snuggle his head into you, etc.

Starts by giving you oral and it's usually the gentle, slow, loving kind.

If it leads to normal sex, it's probably going to take place on the same surface where he was lying on your lap (i.e. -- couch, bed, floor, etc.)

𝕮𝖍𝖗𝖎𝖘 𝕽𝖊𝖉𝖋𝖎𝖊𝖑𝖉 (re: death island)

Giving you his lap:

Occasionally offers his lap to you. Doesn't do it too much because he's not always thinking about it

Most of the time his offers are either because you're sad or because you're watching something together

His thighs are a mix between hard and soft. He's pretty muscular, so at first you'd be expecting more of a solid feeling, but it's not as bad as you'd have guessed. It's a just-right type of deal. (could be due to the fact that he's getting older...)

Isn't super touchy. He'll rest his arm along your body, maybe, but other than that he doesn't do anything too extra. The two of you kinda just enjoy the idle comfort from one another

Very chill kind of lover. Wouldn't get mad if you started getting a bit squirmy or tried readjusting your head's position every 3 seconds

If you have a bowl of popcorn, he's reaching in a grabbing handfuls for himself -- doesn't notice he's eating most of your snack either. (he'll apologize and get up to make another bowl for the both of you, though. And then he'll eat most of that, too)

& NSFW

I don't see him initiating anything out of the blue, or even if he's turned on in this scenario. I do think though that if he got a boner, he'd kinda just awkwardly wait for it to go down. In that case, you'd be the initiator, offering to help him out

Would be fine stopping after reaching his orgasm. Might offer to play with you using his hands. He'd be open to sex if you suggested it.

Using your lap:

Never lays in your lap on his own. Often turns you down when you offer him to lay in your lap

I feel like he likes being in more dominant positions, if that makes sense? He likes being the big-spoon, while you're the little spoon

In the rare occurrence that you do get him on your lap, it's just kinda awkward. He just lies there with his arms crossed

Tries to get comfortable, but can't. He's a big guy, so it's a little tricky for him

Tries his best to stay on your lap if that's what you want, but eventually gives up. Offers for you to either lay on his lap or lay against his chest instead

& NSFW

Not much, if any nsfw things result from this scenario

Maybe if you started running your hands along his arms or touching on his chest, something would happen. He'd probably make a flirty joke about you feeling him up, and then things would go on from there

𝕰𝖙𝖍𝖆𝖓 𝖂𝖎𝖓𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖘 (re7, re8)

Giving you his lap:

Offers his lap whenever he's trying to be romantic or considerate of you. Really only offers because he thinks you like it

Not to say that he doesn't like it -- he'll take any kind of touch from you -- he just doesn't have any kind of preference. Touch is touch

He's got soft thighs. He's not built, but he's not in bad shape either -- he's got a very average build, so his legs are pretty comfortable to lay on.

A lot of the time, he plans to ask you if you want to lay on his lap beforehand. He'll make snacks and lay them out on the coffee table, or he'll light some candles in the bedroom -- it all feels very loving and soft

He likes to place his arm under yours and hold your hand while you watch something. He does the circular thumb movement, too

If you have a baby together, and it starts to cry, he'll grab a pillow and put it down under your head before going to check on the child

& NSFW

Honestly, you're the one jumping him most of the time, and it's not because he doesn't take initiative -- it's because the way he cares for you turns you on

Usually starts once you lean up to kiss him...and keep kissing him

If you're in the living room, he takes you to the bedroom to have sex. It's the kind that's very gentle, slow, and passionate

He gives great aftercare, too. Cleans you both up, and carries you to the shower if you want to take one

Using your lap:

He'll lay in your lap if you suggest it to him, although he doesn't do it on his own very much.

Thinks it's cute when you ask him, and he cracks jokes as he goes to lie down

Makes sure to be very still. Tries not to readjust his head too much, thinking he might annoy you with it

Usually keeps his arms crossed when his head's on your lap. Again, tries not to move too frequently

If you have a kid, they'll try to take your other leg, and Ethan thinks it's funny that you've got two people on your lap

Your kid will request that you pet their head, and Ethan will follow along teasingly. You end up running your hands through both of their hair

& NSFW

If he starts rubbing your knee or the area above it, you know he's trying to start something up

You often say something along the lines of, "I know what you're trying to do," and he laughs and admits it

He'll lean up and kiss you, and then the two of you will take things to the bedroom. Again, you have very gentle, slow sex -- plus good aftercare

𝕷𝖊𝖔𝖓 𝕾. 𝕶𝖊𝖓𝖓𝖊𝖉𝖞 (re2r)

Giving you his lap:

Will offer you his lap sometimes -- he can be a little absent-minded, so it's pretty much an occasional thing unless he notices you frequently putting yourself in his lap

He's a little shy about you laying on his legs, but he likes it a lot

He's got really comfortable thighs to lay on. They've got a slight bit of muscle to them, but not too much

He's a little awkward when it comes to knowing what to do with his hands. He'll pet your head, but he does so with a strange rhythm -- or accidentally yank a little bit of your hair. He then apologizes profusely and pulls his hand away. If you want him to keep touching you in some way, you have to guide his arm/hand down and place it where you want it

The first few times you lay on his lap, he's pretty stiff. As your relationship continues, however, he gets used to it

Will quietly fall asleep after a while and you won't even know it until you try saying something, noticing that he isn't responding

Occasionally mumbles stupid stuff in his sleep. Sometimes you can hold a conversation with him and he won't even remember it

& NSFW

You're the one who initiates it most of the time. He'll get a boner and you'll tease him -- he'll flirtatiously tease back, and you'll end up servicing him where you're sitting

If you're in the living room he worries about staining the couch, but will let you continue if you tell him to not worry about it

Passionate, fairly vanilla sex. He doesn't really like being too rough with you because he worries he might be hurting you

Decent aftercare -- he cleans you up first, and once you're both cleaned up, he asks if you want to go back to lying on his lap

Using your lap:

Only occasionally he will put himself on your lap of his own volition. Usually, you're the one to ask him if he wants to use your legs as a pillow, and agree

Very rarely turns you down, if at all. It makes him really happy when you offer your lap up to him

Tells you almost every time how comfortable your thighs feel.

He likes it a lot when you touch him. Leon likes you petting his hair, rubbing his arm, but his favorite out of every option is when you take his hand and hold it. It feels like a very tender moment to him

Likes to talk to you while he's on you. Whether it be about the show you're watching, his day, your day -- he's talking

Sometimes he will spell things out on your leg using his finger and make you guess what it says. It's usually something random like "cactus," or "pizza"

& NSFW

The two of you will tease and flirt with one another, and that's what leads to things heating up. He'll sit up and start to kiss you, and that's typically the cue that the two of you will be having sex

Sometimes he starts with oral in this kind of scenario, sometimes it just leads straight to a little bit of foreplay then sex

Again, very vanilla, but loving and caring sex. He gives good aftercare here, too

𝕷𝖊𝖔𝖓 𝕾. 𝕶𝖊𝖓𝖓𝖊𝖉𝖞 (re4r)

Giving you his lap:

Knows when you could use his lap, and offers it accordingly. He has a good sense of what you need, and when -- even when you're not upset

Feels very comforted when you accept, and likes the feeling of your weight on him

He has really nice legs, and they're fairly soft. They aren't as cushiony as when he was younger (re2r), but still comfortable to lie on

No longer awkward with his hands, knows exactly what to do with them. He's got very smooth, rhythmic movements as well

Doesn't fall asleep with you in his lap as much as he used to, but it'll happen occasionally. He tries his best to stay awake, wanting to spend time with you -- even though it's hard for him because he doesn't get as much sleep anymore and he gets really relaxed with you around him

If you feel him up, he'll laugh and tease you about it. He thinks it's funny when you poke into the fatty-muscled part of his arms and legs

& NSFW

Using him as a lap pillow leads to nsfw things quite a lot. Sometimes it's started by you touching him up, sometimes it's started by back-and-forth teasing, sometimes it's started by him asking for a kiss

The sex has gotten a little less vanilla over time -- nothing too crazy, but the two of you have definitely explored many more positions, kinks, etc. as time went on

He's got a routine down for aftercare as well -- the two of you know what the other likes, meaning that you're both left feeling pretty satisfied after the deed is done

Using your lap:

Doesn't really put himself on your lap randomly anymore. Over time, he's realized he prefers having you on his legs instead -- but he's not against laying on your thighs

If he does put himself on you, it's usually for good-times sake

He still compliments you on how soft your legs are

Leon falls asleep much more on your lap than when you're on his. Sometimes it knocks him out right away -- he just can't help it

Loves when you move his bangs out of his eyes, especially if the two of you are watching something

He now automatically takes your hand in his, holding it. He doesn't let it go, either, even if he falls asleep in your lap. There's no getting it back until the two of you separate

Doesn't make conversation as much as he used too -- as he got more comfortable over time, he didn't always feel the need to fill in the silent gaps. He does make quite a few quippy one-liners if you're watching something, though

Leon still plays the word-drawing game with his finger on your body, except now he chooses harder words like "potassium," or "armadillo" (though, sometimes, he misspells them and the two of you laugh about it)

& NSFW

His new cue for initiating sex is by squeezing and playing with your leg -- although flirting and teasing still leads to sex between the two of you a lot, also.

The sex ranges from slow and gentle, to fast and passionate. It just depends on what kind of mood the two of you are in

Again, the two of you have a pretty good aftercare routine going, and you're usually very cuddly with one another once you've both finished

𝕷𝖊𝖔𝖓 𝕾. 𝕶𝖊𝖓𝖓𝖊𝖉𝖞 (re6)

Giving you his lap:

Even years later, he's still really good at predicting when you want to use his lap. He offers it at all the right times

Thinks it's cute that the two of you have this years-long tradition going on. He jokes that someday, you'll be in the retirement home together trying to get onto his lap haphazardly

His legs got a lot more hard as time went on. You joke around, telling him that he's hard as a brick now -- but you secretly still enjoy resting on his lap as much as you used to when his thighs were softer

Falls asleep a lot like he did in the beginning -- he's getting old and more tired as time goes on. However, he is good at staying awake if the two of you are watching something

If you like to watch reality TV, he shits all over it/the people in it (He secretly likes it though; his favorite is The Bachelor)

You've started joking around with him, telling him to take his shirt off when you're in his lap -- you tell him that you don't know how many years left you'll have to look at his abs, and that you need to enjoy them thoroughly before they're gone (he only laughs and tells you he'll have them forever, 'till the day he dies)

& NSFW

Still leads to nsfw things, although not as much as when the two of you were younger

You're not as wild, doing crazy positions -- but you do try different, smaller things to spice it up in the bedroom occasionally

Aftercare is still the same, although sometimes you're the one cleaning him up now -- for some reason, despite his job, sex seems to take the life out of him

Using your lap:

Started putting his head back onto your lap more. He does it in a joking manner, but it became special to him overtime due to your guys' history of doing it

If you have a kid, and they like putting their head on your lap, he uses them as an excuse. He'll make some silly joke, telling you that he needs attention, too

Instead of complimenting your legs, he now presses kisses to them randomly. He knows that over time you became a little more conscious of your body, so he started doing this to ensure you he still thinks you're beautiful

Both him and your kid will fall asleep on your lap. Sometimes one of them will snore really loud and wake the other up --you try to stifle a laugh every time it happens

Lets you or your kid tie his bangs up so that he can see the TV without them getting in his eyes. He thinks it's funny

Still makes you put your arm around him, holding onto his hand. Over time, he's started kissing it every once in a while, as well. He's very affectionate with you

The finger word-drawing game has reached a new height. He has started googling impossibly long and difficult words. You can't even beat him anymore -- and you can never tell if he's actually spelling the words right

& NSFW

Leon still squeezes your leg to signal that he wants you -- although he's a little less playful with it, as he's conscious that you're a little more sensitive about your body nowadays

Again, pretty normal sex-life for your ages -- if not a little more frequent than others like your peers

Your aftercare is still the same as well. You and Leon have no complaints, and the two of you will likely continue your routine until you can't anymore

For the official and original Kinktober 23 prompts, check here. Credits to @kinktober2023 for the ideas!

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tadpolesonalgae · 7 months

Text

Dark!Azriel x reader: Stockholm Syndrome[***]

A/N: This is for the Eat You Up girlies <3

Warnings: dubcon themes, dark!Azriel, CNC kink, bdsm undertones, leashes + collars, heavy Dom/Sub dynamics, sex toys, knife play, pussy-spanking, impact play, degradation, foot-humping, biting, slight choking, shadows, sadomasochism, somnophilia, nipple play…?, spitting, mention of non-con

Word Count: 9,960

Visual Prompt here!

You pad quietly along the corridor, searching.

Shadows flick at your ankles, around your bare calves, herding you gently toward the stairs. Teeth bite softly into your lower lip as you ascend the case, feet tiptoeing along the carpeted hallway as you’re guided to his office. The door is ajar, and you spot him at his desk, walking in silently.

Not silent enough, apparently.

Hazel eyes flick over his shoulder, pinning you to the floor, and you still, breath catching in your throat. He turns a little in his chair, darkness thrumming around him, wreathing the great, powerful wings at his back. His eyes catch on your bare thighs, gaze darkening as he drinks you in, frozen in his room.

Azriel’s lips quirk, and that’s all it takes to have your limbs unsticking.

You eagerly pad forward, walking up to him, hands moving to your hips then wrapping round the base of your spine. Your own hands land on his broad shoulders as you slide into his lap, legs parting either side of his thighs. You press into his warmth, nestling deeper into the firm strength of him, nosing at his throat.

Azriel’s large hand strokes your hair, soothingly possessive, tucking you away.

A hum sounds in your chest, almost a purr, and your hips wind gently over his own, rocking your centre against him. He can feel the softness of your sex through the seam of his leathers. “Been a long day, huh?” He asks, large hand spanning your throat as he eases you back—so he can look at you. Remind himself how obedient you are. How docile you’ve become.

You blink quietly up at him, satisfaction gleaming in his sharp, hazel eyes.

White canines flash as his lips lift into a grin, “want something, pet?” Your hips roll onto his needfully, fingers tightening in the fabric of his shirt. A low chuckle sounds deep in his chest, “want my cock, hm?” Your head dips, and he laughs again. “I’d’ve thought all the maidenly blushing would have been fucked out of you by now,” he drawls, the rich timbre of his voice stirring something hot and liquid in the pit of your belly.

Papers rustle behind you, but you’re too busy staring up at him to care.

“Get on the desk. Legs spread,” he orders, and you practically fizzle with excitement. Sliding out of his lap, and raising yourself up carefully, so your ass is perched near the edge. Thighs part shyly, and you’re thankful for the fabric covering your heat. No matter how many times he’s already seen you, from all sorts of obscene angles.

You squirm when he remains quiet, simply leaning back in his chair, eyes slowly raking over you, leisurely taking you in, as if you aren’t burning with need. His gaze fixates on a spot between your legs, the teal silk darkened and damp. Heat bubbles as his tongue flicks out, wetting his lips. Showing his growing appetite.

“Remove your top for me, pet,” he says softly, eyes so full of starving hunger it sends goosebumps raising across your skin, nipples peaking as your fingers catch the hem of the cotton. Pulling it up over your head, you shiver in the cool air of his office, toes curling at the intensity of his gaze.

Silence stretches as he watches with predatory intent, allowing your anxiety to build, anticipation thrumming beneath your skin.

“Do you remember when you used to protest to all this?” He asks softly, sharp hazel piercing into you, pinning you to his desk. “How you used to scream, and beg for me not to touch you?” A shiver thrills down your spine, and he marks it eagerly. “Answer me, pet.”

You dip your head. “I do.”

His mouth parts in a grin, canines peeking from below his upper lip. “Want to recreate that for me?”

Breath catches in your lungs, muscles stiffening as you stare at him, heat washing your cheeks. “What…?” His eyes seem to almost glow with anticipation, and he pushes up from his chair. The space between you is gobbled up in a single stride, then his hands are resting heavily around your hips, pressing close between your thighs. “Want to make it fun, don’t you?” He drawls, watching you intently.

You dip your head again, cheeks heating, but he lightly grips your jaw, raising your chin. “Go on,” he murmurs, eyes scanning your features hungrily. “Make the hunt good.”

Arousal licks between your legs, but then he steps back, and you watch him curiously.

Azriel merely steps aside, encouraging you to go. “Hide.”

Heat sparks in the pit of your belly, and you’re hopping off his desk, grabbing your top, receiving a firm smack on the ass as you leave. “I’ll know if you don’t try hard enough,” he calls after you, voice being carried on those shadows, speeding you along.

First, you stop at your bedroom, but no—too obvious. Next is the kitchen, but nowhere to hide. Next is the study, and you sneak in, checking to see if you could fit under the desk. No way. But there’s a set of keys laying half hidden beneath some papers, and you smile to yourself.

Silently, you slide the key into the one remaining lock on the back door—having watched the other six come off over the years. Until just one remains. You catch it as it clicks open, careful not to make a sound as you open the door.

And hurry out into the night.

————

Toes curl in excitement as you settle your legs either side of the broad trunk, feet dirty from scaling the large tree. But now you’re up here, hidden, and have a good view of a few of the windows leading into your house.

Watch as he checks the bedroom first—he definitely would have found you there. Then the washroom, a few rooms you can’t see, the kitchen… He disappears for a while, and you assume he’s checking the study. Excitement thrills down your spine as you watch him search for you. Is this how he felt all those years? Secretly observing your activities?

It’s exhilarating.

When he reappears in the bedroom, his shadows are darker, writhing around his wings. He’s begun to figure you’re not in the house—he must not’ve seen the lock yet. You smile to yourself, satisfied with your efforts.

His movements drop their leisurely pace, sharpening to something more brutal. Lethally efficient as he checks each room again, going through the lovely house.

When the ground shakes slightly, you can guess he’s found the opened lock—guessed you’ve escaped out into the world. Returned to where he plucked you from.

Azriel prowls out into the garden, hazel eyes flicking left and right, scanning for movement, and you hold your breath. His nostrils flare, and he moves forward, shadows hunting close to the ground. He reaches the base of the tree, and comes up short. Your scent disappears from the ground.

He’s still. Quiet.

Then he begins muttering to himself. Your name, over and over. A strange spell being woven as he chants it repeatedly under his breath. Hands tighten to fists at his side, shadows writhing, and you can feel his agitation from below.

You watch, curiously. You’ve not seen him like this in a long time.

So you grip a pinecone, and drop it over the edge.

Immediately he stops, going silent. Staring at the cone at his feet. His gaze snaps up, razor-sharp hazel slicing into you, and you freeze. Cold, glittering fury dances in his eyes.

Excitement heats your body, hands gripping the trunk as you swing your leg over the side. Then tip off the edge.

His eyes widen, instantly moving to catch you, shadows springing up to soften your fall, and you feel it as his strong arms wrap protectively beneath you. Pressing you to his body. His grip is tight—possessive, and you nestle closer. “What d’you think?” You mumble, pulling back to peer up at him.

“I thought you’d gone,” he mutters, tips of his fingers tightening on you, before loosening, allowing you to settle your feet on the ground. “You know you’re not allowed out here,” he reminds roughly, hand settling on your waist, spanning the width easily.

Your hands settle on his chest, feeling the beat of his heart against his rib cage. How fast and hard it’s pumping.

“You told me to make it good,” you murmur, “didn’t I do good?”

“I thought you’d gone,” he repeats with devastating softness. Maybe you shouldn’t have let it go on for that long. “I thought you’d gone,” he says sharply, squeezing your waist. “I’m here,” you say softly, pressing into him. “I haven’t gone any—”

“I thought you’d runaway,” he mutters, a little frenzied. “I thought you’d been pretending. That you’d succeeded in escaping from me.”

You brow furrows, “Azriel, I’m right here…”

He shakes his head. “You shouldn’t have come out here.”

You peer up at him, staring at his beautiful features. How could you ever run away from him?

Gently, you pry your hands beneath his own, linking your fingertips together. Step back a little. “Maybe I was trying to escape,” you taunt softly. “Maybe I’ve gotten bored of you, and want something else.” His face goes white with rage, and you spin on your feet, turning to run for the house.

You don’t even get a single step before his hand has brutally gripped the base of your neck, yanking you back to him. You whimper at the roughness, and he marks the sound eagerly. “Want to repeat that, pet?” He growls quietly, keeping you pinned to the spot.

Teeth prod into your lower lip, his gaze darkening.

“Maybe I was trying to run away,” you repeat, skin prickling beneath the intensity of his attention. Centuries of predatory training zeroing in, on you. “Are you trying to provoke me? Is that it?” He snarls. “Think that’s a good idea, pet?”

“I’m not your pet, Azriel.”

His eyes gleam with cold fury, anticipation burning icily. “No?”

You shake your head. “No.”

Canines flash beneath the moonlight, and then his shadows have encompassed you. The weightless sensation overtakes you, then your feet are again on firm ground. You flinch as something leathery wraps around your throat, tightening until it fits snugly. A collar.

Metal snaps, and you know he’s just clipped on the lead.

Azriel gives a firm tug, making you stumble forward, hissing at the pressure around your throat.

“I think someone’s gotten too comfortable with her position,” he growls lowly, jaw tense, shadows thick and writhing at your feet. “Needs some reminding who’s in charge of her, huh?” A shiver trills down your spine, and you press your bare thighs together. Needing the friction. “Isn’t that right?”

The tears arise on their own, barely even needing to be summoned.

His grip tightens on the leash, eyes flickering with arousal at the sight of your damp lashes. “If you don’t want your role of pet, then by all means, spit on it,” he drawls softly. Menacingly. “Entitled brat, aren’t you?”

He lands a harsh slap to your cheek, tugging roughly on the lead again to keep you steady. “If you won’t comply as a pet,” he snarls softly, “then you’ll obey as a slave.”

A whimper slips from your lips at that, heat turning liquid in you belly. His brow quirks, lips tilting up at their edges, “like that?” Breath trembles from your lips, legs turning weak with arousal.

“Azriel…” you whisper desperately. The heat is too much. You need him to relieve it.

“So desperate,” he laughs softly. “I haven’t even begun on you.”

Then he’s roughly guiding you back, shoving you against a wooden wall, shackling your wrists in chains, shadows copying the movement on your ankles. The leash hangs limp as he steps away, brushing over your breasts, grazing your thighs, and you bow from the board.

Azriel tuts lowly, retreating into the dark dungeon-like basement, allowing his shadows to play with you in the meantime. They skate up your thighs, wrapping over your hips, slithering up your spine. Gliding beneath your shirt. Pinching your nipples.

A breathless whimper slips from your lips as they twist and flick, pressing against the teal silk between your legs. Winding with enough pressure to feel good, but not enough to give any meaningful stimulation. Head tips back against the wall, eyes fluttering closed as they teasingly circle your clit, more grazing your stomach, keeping you confused from where they’ll next come from.

Your lips part, hips trying to grind down upon them, but they move with you, refusing to come any closer. You nearly cry out in desperation.

You flinch when scarred fingers roughly push aside your soaked underwear, running something rubbery but firm through the wetness. Coating it. You attempt to peer down, but can’t get a good glimpse. Can hardly think straight with how desperately you need him.

Breath is shoved from your lungs as he pushes the object inside of you. Dreadfully slowly. In and out. A few inches at a time. When it’s fully in, he moves your underwear back into place, roughly tugging the strings further up your hips, shoving the toy deeper.

A moan bursts from your lips, spine arching from the circular board as you tighten around it, trying to keep it pressing against that wonderful spot.

“I was saving this for a reward,” he murmurs beside your ear, fingers between your legs, prone to push it further inside. “But I suppose it can double as a punishment, huh?”

Pleasure weighs on your eyelids, barely able to keep them open long enough to look at him. “Can you even remember my name, slave?” He asks, amusement clear in his question. You blink wearily up at him, begging for stimulation. All you get is a rough pat on the cheek, followed by his fingers pressing the toy up into you.

A strangled moan arises from your throat, teeth sinking into your lower lip as you try to silence yourself. He jerks roughly on your leash in reprimand. “None of that,” he tuts, gripping you jaw so you’re forced to look at him. “I want to enjoy this.”

Then he retreats again, and you sink into the wooden board, weight resting heavily on your arms that are still pulled taut either side of your head.

“Eyes up here,” he commands, a sultry roughness to his order. Heat buzzes between your thighs, but you force yourself to meet his gaze. And you nearly forget how to breathe.

Cold, hard steel catches the dim light. No more than an elegant slice of silver amongst his shadows. Azriel’s lips twist into a smile, deftly spinning the short blade in his hands, skilled with practice, flexible with familiarity. There are more at his side, piled on a table, all the size of small daggers.

“Azriel,” you breathe. “What—”

The blade flies from his hand, embedding in the wood to the right of your body. Too close for comfort. Especially because you know he could hit you if he really wanted, and you don’t know how close he’s willing to get to satisfy his desires. You cringe away from the Illyrian steel, but the chains hold you fast, keeping you pinned to the wall like an insect to a dissection table. Ready for him to play with; experiment on.

“Better keep still,” he mocks, picking up another dagger. “Unless you want a few scars to show for later?” His lips twist into a wider smile, “a reminder of your disobedience, perhaps?” The blade flies, lodging in the wood a few centimetres above your head. You yelp, dipping your head as your blood runs cold.

Another dagger has already left his hands before you can look up, slamming into the wood beside your right breast. A puff of cold air hisses at the skin, practically able to feel the blade if you tip your body a little to the right. It’s piercing the cloth of your top, just another restriction to your movement.

Azriel laughs, flipping a blade in his hand, marking your aroused discomfort. How you squirm.

“Do you regret sneaking out yet? In the night, where anything could have happened to you?” He asks, shoulders tensing at the reminder. “Do you understand how weak you are, huh? How delicate?” He throws another blade, this one nicking your cheek, as if to demonstrate how easily you can be hurt. A whimper is strung from your lips, the light stinging making you want to pull your thighs together.

“Mm sorry,” you breathe, lower lip wobbling. “Mm sorry, Azriel…”

He laughs at that, “better.”

Picks up another dagger. “But too late.”

Steel slices against your hip, slicing the teal string on your underwear, exposing your skin as blood beads delicately. Azriel licks his lips at the sight, a quick flick of his tongue that has you fantasising about everything else he could be doing to you. “Azriel please,” you whimper, vision blurring. “I didn’t mean to upset you… Wanted to make it fun.”

A rough chuckle sounds, the metallic scape of yet another blade sliding into his hand, “I’m having plenty of fun.” Steel flashes in the dim light, making you squint. “Are you not enjoying this?” Teeth push into your lower lip, blinking away the dampness, “want you, instead.” Azriel’s lips quirk, taking in the way your hips shift, tightening around the toy needfully. He targets the other string flawlessly, rewarding you with a matching nick to your hip.

“Yeah? You want me to be inside of you rather than that?” He asks, pleased with your answer. Though not satisfied enough to give you what you want. “Want me to unchain you so I can stuff you with my cock instead? Fuck you ’til you’re going limp in my arms? Is that what you’d like?”

“Yes!” You pant, tightening around the toy desperately. You’re so wet it’s slipping out, no longer kept tucked inside by your underwear.

“Azriel…! Azriel, I can’t— Az!”

Wood splinters as he targets just between your thighs, a breath below your skin. The toy perches atop the flat of the blade—having been thrown sideways. Your chest rises up and down, sweat making your skin gleam in the dim light. Things tremble, weak from the wild ride, adrenaline singing in your blood.

Light catches on his canines as he grins, slightly feral, slowly prowling toward you. “So obedient, aren’t you?” He drawls, towering over you as he rests his hands atop the circular board. Your spine bows from the wood, arching in attempts to get the toy to touch more of those sensitive spots. His grin widens, “want it a little deeper?” He asks mockingly, eyes gleaming with dark pleasure. You nod your head, cheeks hot like the rest of your body.

Teeth flash in the light, and he applies pressure to the board.

You scream as you’re spun upside down, so your head is in line with his boots, feet in the air. Dizziness crashes into you, tipping your sense of balance, warping your sense of direction as he laughs distantly. Fingertips brush down your inner thigh, dancing over the skin, breath grazing teasingly.

“So desperate,” he drawls. “Can you beg for it, hm? Think you can string the words together for me?” You blink hazily as he crouches down, peering at your confused form.

“Azriel…” you manage, then squeeze your eyes shut at the pressure. So hot. Blood rushing downward. “Azriel, please…”

“Please what?” He asks leisurely. “What do you want me to do, pet?” His thumb brushes over your lower lip, pulling it from your teeth, small scars from where you’ve bitten over the years indented into the pillowy flesh. He grins, leaning forward.

A deluded moan drags from your throat as he presses his canines into your upper lip, tugging on it slightly. Your hands pull on the chains, desperate to touch him as he plays with you, toy beginning to sink back in, but it’s neither fast, nor deep enough.

“Put it in me,” you beg, features scrunching with desperation, eyes squeezing shut against the pressure, brows furrowing. “Azriel, please…put it deeper.” Canines pierce your lip, something thick and rich bleeding onto your teeth, then he’s lapping it up. Landing a rewarding smack to your cheek before he stands. “That’s better,” he chuckles, finger brushing between your thighs, making to push them apart. “That’s much better.”

Breath drains from your lungs as he pushes the toy all the way in, gravity helping it sink deep into your heat. Hot liquid spills, dripping from your eyes up over your brows, trickling into your hair. Knees shake, hips bucking as he keeps the toy pressed inside of you, enjoying the view. “You having fun? Enjoying this?”

He pushes against the toy, making so it presses more into one side, circling the pressure, making you weep. “Yes,” you moan, “yes, yes, yes.”

Azriel halts his movements.

Before you know it he’s landed a smack to your clit.

You squeak, jerking against the shackles, to no avail. “Why the fuck are you enjoying it, huh?” He spits, landing another smack to your tender sex. “Did you forget this is supposed to be a punishment? You’re not meant to enjoy it.” Another smack, and tears slide up over your face, saliva wetting the corners of your mouth as you weep.

“No, we can’t have that, can we?” He mutters, grinning to himself as he smacks harder, making you scream, muscles flinching as you writhe against the chains. “How will you learn your lesson if it doesn’t hurt, huh?”

“Please, please, please! I’ve learnt it! I know better!” You cry out, hands balling into fists against the stimulation.

Relief sweeps in as he hold off for a moment, “is that right? Think you’ve learned? Think you know better now?” He presses the toy back in, having been slightly pushed out when you were tensing for impact. You nod your head frantically, “I swear! I’ll never do it again— Please, Azriel!”

He hums to himself, sounding satisfied. Leaning down, his mouth latches over your cunt, tongue flicking over your clit soothingly. Tasting your arousal. Azriel groans at the flavour, sealing his lips over your tender sex, suckling gently, wet muscle teasing the taut bud eagerly. Scarred hands grip behind your thighs, holding you still as you try to buck for more.

You’re murmuring prayers under your breath, chanting them desperately as he plays with you, a cat toying with its mouse—batting it back and forth between its paws. He changes the angle of the toy, and your mouth drops open, silent moans being drawn out, one after the other as pleasure builds and coils in the pit of your stomach.

But then he’s pulling away, leaving you hot and messy, slick coating the skin of your thighs, sex soft and tender from his brutal attention. Heart pounds in your chest as he unlocks your ankles, shadows keeping you pinned to the board as he does the same for your wrists. “Think we’re done, pet?” He murmurs, allowing your body to carefully fold over itself, so you tip over, shadows making sure you don’t hurt yourself as you land on the floor.

Your head is spinning from the movement, cunt aching for more attention, and your legs automatically spread as you attempt to push the toy back inside. Grinding against the floor, but it’s too low, too far away, and your thighs won’t spread wide enough. Whimpers spill from your lips in frustration, wanting that pleasure, riled up from the phantom lick of his tongue over your clit. How good it felt.

Azriel growls roughly, shadows collecting your leash, returning it to his hand as he tugs roughly, drawing your attention back to him, instead of the toy you’re pitifully trying to steal your pleasure from. “Come here,” he orders sharply, again tugging on your collar, causing you to choke.

Clumsily, you crawl forward, stopping to kneel before him.

“Feeling good, slave?” He asks, keeping your leash taut so you’re forced to tilt your chin upward, peering at his towering frame. You dip your head mindlessly, too dizzy and yearning for pleasure to properly think. He chuckles, “yeah? You liked that?” Again you nod, lips parting as your hand slips between your legs to press the toy back inside. Fingers come away wet, slick dripping down and onto the floor.

“But you still need more, don’t you?” He purrs, hazel eyes gleaming in the dim light, “so greedy. Greedy and gluttonous. Such a brat.” Whimpers drag from your lips, nodding your head dumbly along with everything he’s saying. He chuckles at you.

“Want to feel good now?” He asks, shadows cupping your jaw to keep your attention on him. When you don’t answer, he smacks you, cheek stinging with the impact. “Answer. Or do you want me to chain you back up and give that little cunt some rougher treatment?” Your eyes nearly roll to the back of your skull, but you shake your head in apology. “Mm sorry…please don’t…want to feel good, please…”

His lips quirk—he has you wrapped around his finger. Your pleasure dependant on him. You need him. Without him, you can never feel good.

Azriel takes pity on you, large hand landing atop your head, threading through your hair. “You’re going to be good? Gonna be good for me now?” He asks, grinning when you nod eagerly. Eyes gleam maliciously, and he tugs on your collar, pulling you flush against his leg, arms clinging onto him for stability.

“Go on then,” he urges, shifting one foot to be between your thighs, knocking your knees further apart. “Take your pleasure.”

Relief crashes into you, and you move to pull away, wanting to lie on your back—give him a nice view; a performance as you bring yourself over the edge. Only with his permission, of course.

You whimper when he tugs on your collar, making you peer up at him desperately, questioningly. Lips tip into a smirk as he taps his boot against the floor expectantly. “Go on,” he repeats softly, mockingly. “Take it.”

Teeth sink into your lower lip, hands gripping onto him desperately as your thighs spread, the toy settling against the leather. You lean your weight onto it. Eyes roll back, heat flushing your skin, taking inch after inch. His grip tightens in your hair, hand curling into a fist as he keeps your head tilted upward—so he can watch your blissed out expression as your features contort. All because of him.

Male satisfaction licks up his spine, cock stiffening in his trousers, rubbing against the seam.

You’ve already been worked to the brink, coil so close to snapping, it’ll take minimal effort to bring you that ocean of pleasure. Slowly, you wind your hips over him, unable to do much more with the depth of the stimulation, how deep the goodness is sinking. You wish it was his cock, wish his hands were roughly gripping your hips, arms bound behind your back so you’re completely at his mercy.

Speed up the motions, hips bucking as you grip onto him desperately, his hand fisted in your hair. Azriel watches as you tug your lip between your teeth, brows curving upward, drool shining at the edges of your mouth. Cheeks and lashes damp with tears. Skin hot to the touch. Lips part in pleasure, tongue flicking out briefly. “That’s it,” he goads, shadows gripping your hips to urge you on. “That’s it, take it. Take it from me. Be a good girl and take your pleasure.”

Eyes roll back, lids fluttering as you press your chest flush against him, gripping onto the muscle of his thigh as your hips drag back and forth in sharp, sporadic jerks. “Go on, a little more— That’s it. So good. So good, aren’t you? So well behaved.” The praise sings down your spine, and pleasure bursts across your skin, fracturing your conscious. Hips buck wildly, almost automatically, riding out the euphoria, his fist tightening in your hair. Keeping you still so he can watch as you cum.

His name chants on your lips over and over, eyes filling with tears at the pleasure as you press tighter to him, clinging onto him like he’s some kind of prophet. Some kind of saviour. You bow into his touch, desperate for more, to have more of his skin against your own.

“Azriel…” you moan.

It’s the sweetest sound he’s ever heard. Never failing to make him dizzy with lust, enraptured with the movements of your body, how you’re kneeling and riding him so desperately. Like you really do need him. His temperature rises.

The aftershocks fade, leaving you panting quietly, relaxing your body, shifting off his boot. Thin strands of silvery slick connect the leather to your cunt, creating a sloppy mess. Azriel tuts softly, arousal zapping straight to your clit at the sound alone. “What a mess you’ve made,” he drawls, hand having released your hair. “Gotten my boot all dirty, haven’t you? What a filthy thing you are.”

Colour tints his skin, clearly pleased with the results—how wet you are.

“Think I should make you clean it up, huh?” He jerks on your leash, shadows tightening the pressure of your collar ever so deliciously. “Make you lick it up with that filthy mouth of yours?” He drawls, enjoying the idea. Your tongue darts out to wet your lips, and he chuckles. “No…I think you’d like that too much. Pretty whore.”

A lovely whimper is drawn from your chest as he releases your collar in favour of tossing you over his shoulder, shadows keeping the toy tucked comfortably inside of you. You whine and writhe against him, wanting to feel more of him, have more of him. He lands a harsh spank to your backside, making you yelp, then wiggle more.

Azriel laughs lowly at your antics, rewarding your struggle with a harder smack, leaving the skin stinging in his wake. He carries you all the way through your shared home, taking you up each flight of stairs, leading you up from the basement and into your bedroom. Gently lowers you down his body as he sits, toy still tucked away deep inside. Legs spread over his lap, his arm winding around your waist to keep your chest flush against him.

Fingers thread through your hair, jerking your head back so he can stare you down, those hazel eyes enough to have arousal gathering all over again as you anticipate the awful things he’s going to do to you. “You regret going outside, don’t you, pet. Not going to do it again.” You nod your head along with him, showing you’re sorry. His mouth slides wide in a vulpine smile, “but what about those other things you said, huh? Think I’m just going to let those go?”

You whimper, rolling your hips against him, pleading for him to get inside of you. Fill you up.

He laughs darkly at your attempts to distract him, bucking up against you—let you think he’s forgiven you. But his hold remains tight in your hair, and he watches you swallow against the collar, shadows unclipping the leash. “You said something cruel to me earlier. Do you remember what it was?” He asks, smiling as you struggle and squirm in his lap. Shake your head in response.

Azriel hums, hand moving to grip your throat lightly, holding you gently between his fingers. “You said you wanted to look for something else. That you’d gotten bored, and you wanted something better.” The grip tightens, not enough to make you choke, but enough for you to feel the pressure. You squirm more, shaking your head in denial. “I didn’t mean it…” you beg, hands desperate to touch him, to hold him.

He tilts his head in mock concern, “no? You were lying?”

Teeth bite into your lip, dipping your head in confirmation.

Lips quirk. “That right? You’re a dirty little liar?”

Vision blurs, but you nod, grinding down on him in attempts to make reparations.

He chuckles lowly, deep in his throat. “You made me very upset with that comment. Made me think you wanted someone else. That I wasn’t good enough for you.” He grips harder, breath rasping out, pulling your mouth to brush against his own. “Am I good enough for you, pet?”

“Yes,” you whisper, trying to nod your head. “You’re so good. So good to me, Azriel. So perfect.”

One of his brows quirks. “Perfect? I don’t know about that, pet.”

“You are,” you insist, hardly more than a whine. “Best thing in the world. You’re perfect. Everything.” Lips part in a grin that’s filled with male satisfaction. He releases your throat, in favour of going to his belt. “Want to show me how perfect I am, pet?”

Heat washes down your spine, and you’re nodding frantically, quickly shuffling down his body as he pulls himself free of his leathers. You stare up from between his legs, knelt on the ground, the toy still tucked away, balancing on the wooden boards. Mouth waters as he touches himself, beautiful skin tinted with colour, flushed with arousal.

You don’t notice his shadows slinking away, trailing back down to the basement.

A hand slides through your hair, and it’s all the encouragement you need to be rising up—feet keeping the toy nice and deep—following his silent instruction. You open your mouth over him, and he groans from the back of his throat. You could cry at the taste of him, how right it feels to have him on your tongue, pushing your jaw lower. How lovely his skin is, so soft, and hot. Slightly salty, and tasing so distinctly of himself.

Fingers slip between your legs, rolling over your clit, tightening around the toy.

“That’s a good girl,” he drawls, pushing you down onto his cock, hips bucking upward. “So good. So good at making me feel good. What you were made for. Isn’t that right, pet?” You moan onto him, grinding down, fingers flicking and rolling over the sensitive bud.

Free hand grips his base, pumping what you can’t fit, tongue flicking over the slit in his head. Landing soft kisses to it, and the space just below, suckling lightly, before taking him entirely again. As entirely as you can, anyway.

Enjoying the process, saliva dripping from your mouth, lubricating the slide up and down. How he sometimes cuts off your airways if you take him too far down. How he twitches in response to the slight gags. Loving every second of it.

“Choose a number between one and five,” he orders lowly.

Brow narrows as you make to pull up, but his hand is already resting at the back of your head in warning. You still as his tip, tongue circling again, then you dip as far down as you can go. One…two…three times.

Azriel hums, then a faint clicking noise sounds through the room.

You writhe, muscles spasming, trying to tug away from him as the vibrations hit your sensitive walls. His hand keeps you in place, shadows returning from their adventure down to the basement. Eyes squeeze shut at the pleasure, the stimulation, and the darkness wraps around the base of the toy, slowly beginning to drag it in and out.

Tears build at your lashes, and you take him back down your throat eagerly, spine arching so it touches all kinds of spots. Azriel laughs softly as he watches you, how easily you bend to his will, curving and arching to fit to the shape of his pleasure. Stroking himself through the skin of your cheek, thumb skimming gently.

Another click sounds, and the vibrations change to a steady pulse rhythm, conditioning you to tighten moments after the sensation. His shadows pick up speed, pushing in faster, and harder. Free hand leaves from between your legs to grip onto him, having to steady yourself from the stimulation.

You moan again and again onto his cock, wanting him to feel as good as you are, lapping at the salty moisture that gathers at his tip. Darkness replaces your fingers, playing with your clit, running in tight, repetitive circles, making the pressure in the pit of your belly double…coil over itself again and again.

“That’s good,” he encourages, breathlessly, getting off on seeing how desperate you are. How your hips push back against his shadows, how you moan onto him, dripping onto the floor. “Keep going, pet. Making me feel so good. Show me how much you love me. Worship everything you can get that lying fucking mouth of yours on,” he snarls roughly.

Heat builds at the degradation, coil tightening as you take him as far as you can, nails biting into his leathers as you push your limits. His shadows work in tandem to your efforts, licking over your clit, flicking and swirling over your nipples, tugging on them lightly. Pinching, like he’s attached clips to them. He knows how sensitive you are…all those secret spots he’d discovered.

Azriel curses under his breath, low and vicious. “Do you remember how hard you tried to escape me that first time, pet? How you cried, and screamed? Screamed until that lovely throat of yours was raw?” He drawls, bucking his hips in time with the thrusts of the toy, vibrations making you see stars.

All you can manage is a heady moan, tears dripping down from pleasure, nearly numb with euphoria.

“And look at you now,” he laughs breathlessly, “all good and broken in. Told you I’d have you trained. But you didn’t believe me, did you? Thought you’d make it, huh?” Arousal sparks in the pit of your belly, and you widen the stance of your legs, spreading your thighs to allow it to hit deeper. And it does. It does so well.

Eyes roll back into your skull, hands trembling with the force of your orgasm. He twitches in your mouth at the pure pleasure in your scent, how overpowering it is. Strong enough to tip him into his own high.

Liquid pleasure spills into your mouth, and you nearly go mad. His taste coats your tongue, spurting hot between your lips, spilling down your throat as you lick and lap and suck: worshipping as he’d told you to.

Shadows tighten around your clit, pinching your nipples, tugging on them as he targets every part that you love, succinctly and with mind-breaking accuracy. Practiced precision.

Pleasure overwhelms you, feeling so wonderful as the vibrations crash into you over and over, made stronger as your sensitive walls flutter around the toy, clamping down, forcing it tighter.

The last thing you remember is how he’d pulled you from his cock, spit and cum mixing together to create silvery, milky threads, making your lips glisten. The way those last few spurts had decorated your cheeks, nose and mouth, marking you as his own.

And then your world dimmed, winking out.

————

He continues working on you long after you pass out, grinding his hips sloppily against your own. When you’re passed out, and unaware, you’re inanimate. A pretty accessory for his cock.

Cum gleams over your abdomen, cunt glistening from hours of use, release mixed with your slick. Even while you’re asleep, your body continues to please him, urging him to continue, to pursue that sick pleasure.

Azriel doesn’t mind how unresponsive you are; he gets to paint you as he pleases.

His fingers graze softly over your abdomen, muscle fluttering beneath the teasing brush, tensing as they glide through cum. He groans, cock stiffening expectantly as he scoops release up from your cunt, gathering loadfuls before raising them to your lips. He twitches as the milky liquid splatters over your mouth, trickling over your tongue, making you wake suddenly. Spluttering as he touches the back of your throat.

The scent of his arousal spears into your mind, and your body heats in response, so ready for him to work on you. So ready to submit. Tongue plays with his taste, peering down at yourself as sensations crest over you.

Azriel sits back patiently, allowing you time to catalogue the bruises; the devastation.

Bite-marks litter your thighs, the indentation of his teeth stamped so deep you hope it scars. Bruises hurt on your throat and collar bones, on the space beneath your jaw, and you raise your fingers to brush the intimate skin. Your breasts ache, and you know he’s been having fun with them: pinching, flicking, biting. Suckling the sensitive peaks while he no doubt stuffed you full, cock buried deep inside your tender sex.

Whimpers draw from your lips as you take in the results of his desire—how he’s inflicted his hunger upon your body. How he’ll continue to abuse every spot he likes until… There is no end.

Tongue flicks over your lips, and you settle onto your hands and knees, crawling to him. He may have removed the leash, but he’s still dragging you forward, invisibly connected to him.

“Azriel…” his name rasps from your lips, throat raw from use, need scraping against your skin. Hazel eyes gleam as he watches you crawl forward on shaky limbs—how you drag your tongue up the underside of his cock, set on worshipping him with as much devotion as he does with you. A quiet groan falls from his mouth as you rise up his body, breasts dragging over his chest. He doesn’t miss the flicker of pain across your features as they scrunch, how reactive you are, so sensitive to touch now you’ve been given chance to recover.

Mouth opens over his own, sharing the erotic taste of him across his tongue, revelling in how it strokes against yours. His hands lightly grip your waist, fitting perfectly over the already formed bruises, sliding into place. Tenderly, his tongue flicks out over your lower lip, lapping up his cum from your skin, gathering it in his mouth as his hand slides lower, fingers dragging over your entrance to collect your wetness.

Pleasure lights your body as he laps at his own fingers, indulging in your flavour.

His large hand grips your jaw gently, tipping you upward so you’re facing him. Taps the skin of your cheek twice with the pad of his forefinger. Open.

Hot liquid bubbles in your abdomen as he spits between your parted lips, digits sliding in soon after to press his taste into your tongue; mark every part of you with his scent, until you’re covered in him. You whimper around his fingers, hand wrapping around his cock as you move to pleasure him.

Azriel snarls softly over your mouth, and you retract your touch—even as he pulls you flush against his torso, cock pressing into your tummy so tantalisingly. Teasingly. You whine.

“Azriel…” you breathe, words muffled from his fingers, and pride flickers in his gaze. “What is it?” He asks softly, lips lifting at the edges. You could sigh with relief at that expression; you know what it means. It means lazy, leisurely. It means taking his time—gently, subtle bucks of his hips to stimulate you slowly. Warm you up again.

“I want you,” you plead, hands pressing to his chest. He allows you to guide him back, wings flaring as they press into the mattress. “You’ve had me all night,” he smirks, pleased you’re craving him as intensely as he is you. Mutual obsession. Tangible need.

“It’s not enough,” you mumble, hands skimming the tops of his thighs, eyes torn between laying on his own, and lapping up more of his cock. “I need to have you inside me.” Cock twitches, and you tighten in response, thighs parting over his hips, settling so you’re atop him. “You’ve had me inside you plenty of times tonight,” he reminds softly, eyes glazing with lust, darkening as his hand brushes your abdomen. Knowing how much cum he’s pumped int you.

Lower lip pushes out, brows curving together, “you know that doesn’t count.” Fingers press into the padded muscle of his stomach, slicked with sweat, and you want to trace each one with your tongue. “Want to have you inside, and to feel it,” you moan, guiding his tip to your entrance.

Azriel watches, entranced. Once again reminded at how obedient you’ve become.

“Open your mouth.”

You do so without question.

Lips fashion themselves into a smile. “Close.”

Your mouth closes.

“Good girl.”

Heat flutters between your legs.

Hands gently span your waist, urging you to sink your weight onto him, settle on his cock. You oblige happily.

Eyes roll back into your skull, and you hear him murmur soft words of reassurance under his breath as you sway. Temporarily rendered immobile. He steadies you, waiting for you to be ready for stimulation.

He’s had his fun, had his time to play with your body. Find his pleasure in it. He knows it’s your turn, and he’s happy to let you have it. You’ve worked hard for him, satisfied him repeatedly. Now he wants you to explore him all over again, swirl your hips until you find a pace you like, touch yourself as you want while he supports from the background.

You do just that.

Slowly, you lift off him, thighs trembling with the effort. Then you slide back down, feeling the push of his hip bone digging into the softness of your flesh. Thoughts block out of your mind, pushed away by his cock as it presses into your sensitive walls; quiet whimpers cry from your chest.

Legs shift out from under you as you yield control, unable to lever yourself up and down as you fully rest your weight on him. Leaning back against his legs, bent at the knee to support you, your eyes fluter closed, content to bask in the fullness of him.

His shadows stroke over your head, providing the comfort you seek. Warmth floods your chest at his caring nature.

“Azriel?” You mumble softly, words subdued under the weight of pleasure. He hums quietly in response, hands grazing the tops of your thighs as he watches you. “Tell me a story,” you request.

A chuckle rumbles out of him, and you feel it warm your insides, making you tighten around him. “What sort of story do you want, pretty thing?” You could melt at the nickname. Reduce yourself to liquid to splash all over him, saturate his skin.

Teeth bite into the pillowy silkiness of your lower lip, toes curling as you drag your hips forward by a few centimetres. “Tell me how you fell in love with me,” you request softly. Hands settle at your waist, heating your sides, thumbing the skin softly. “Tell me every thought you had… Every moment you watched me… Tell me all of it.”

“It’s a long and dreadful tale I’m afraid,” he laughs deeply, “I think it would sour the mood.”

“Then tell me one that won’t,” you breathe. “I want to know you more. Want to know everything.” His cock touches a lovely place inside of you, and you focus on softly targeting it, rolling your hips over him.

Azriel pauses, and even with your eyes closed you can feel the weight of his gaze, how assuring it is; how adoring. “Okay,” he sighs, giving in, stroking your thighs, “just one.”

Your lips tip at the edge, one set of fingers linking with his own as he squeezes back.

“It was pretty early on—before I really grasped how deep the obsession ran,” he begins, the rough timbre of his voice curling your toes. “I spotted you coming back from a night out. You were clearly drunk, and stumbling all over the place—I was surprised you made it to your door without falling flat on your face,” he says, fingers tracing patters across your skin.

“I remember knowing you hadn’t locked your door, and I was angry. Angry you didn’t take care of yourself. For being so reckless,” he continues, tapping lightly at your inner thigh—reprimanding you for all those decades ago. Nearly seventy years past since that infatuation took root. “I remember thinking I should use my shadows to give you a scare. Teach you a lesson for being so unaware. You desperately needed to learn to protect yourself, and you weren’t going to start unless something pushed you into action,” he laughs, realising how firmly in your thrall he’d been even back then. Before he was even fully aware of it.

“But when my shadows got inside, you were already undressing, and I couldn’t move.”

Eyes flutter open, and you meet his dark hazel gaze, something far deeper than love dancing in his features. Something bordering on violent, glittering with possession. Protection.

“I doubt you even noticed how dark it got in your room that night, despite the faelight,” he says softly, and your pulse spikes, knowing how closely he watched over you for all those years. How protective he is by nature. “I later learned whenever you came back like that, it often meant whoever you’d chosen for the night hadn’t be worth it, choosing to stumble back to your own bed rather than wake up in theirs.” Again those impatient taps to your thigh, and your hips roll in response, soothing both of you.

“It was the first night I saw you touch yourself. And it felt wrong to watch, but you were so fascinating. I’d never seen someone enjoy themselves purely for their own satisfaction. With partners, or workers in brothels, they’re aware they’re expected to put on a show. They emphasise movements to an obscene, unbelievable degree, while you were calm and quiet.” You swirl over him, vaguely managing to call up a murky image of your bedroom. Picturing the darkness that filled it, and you hadn’t even noticed.

Maybe you’d known, innately, he was not there to harm you, but to love you.

“It was entirely solitary; a completely private moment I was witnessing, and it was an unimaginable weight off my shoulders,” he says, circling the tops of your thighs, heat building and coiling in the pit of your belly. “For those few hours, I was no one. Gloriously free to simply observe,” his lips quirk ruefully. “Until it wasn’t enough to just watch.”

Breathing shallows, chest rising up and down with anticipation. Wanting to know where he took the irreversible step from the light. Straying from his own path, to collide with yours.

“You came back again, drunk and stumbling over yourself, and I knew enough by this point to know you wouldn’t remember a thing,” he says, voice growing softer with each confession. “So that night, when you were on the cusp of sleep, I helped push you over the edge.”

“You didn’t even struggle,” he murmurs, breathless. “Didn’t even try to put up a fight. Just waited patiently as I pushed your legs apart; pulled the silk from your hips. So lovely and docile. So perfect.” Colour flushes his skin and he can’t help the slight buck as he presses himself deeper into your cunt.

“Go on,” you urge, panting quietly. “Tell me more.”

A phantom smile plays on his mouth as he remembers, “there were moments I think you may have fallen asleep, then woken up when your body remembered what was happening. Like you were desperately fighting it off for me, trying to be there for me.” He huffs a laugh, squeezing your hand.

“I remember how you arched at the first stroke of my tongue, how your fingers tightened in the sheets, like you wanted to touch me but didn’t have the energy to manage. So I held you with one hand, just like this. To make sure you didn’t suddenly jolt awake; that you felt comfortable. So your body wouldn’t warn you about the violation.”

“You were nearly perfect, except you didn’t know how to attribute the pleasure, so you didn’t call out my name when you came on my tongue. I watched you writhe, how your eyes widened then slammed shut, squeezing together as you gripped my hand though it all. Like you were worried you’d be washed away in the torrent. You were absolutely breathtaking in that moment; every moment after.”

“That night you became mine. You never knew—I suppose until now—but you responded to me that night. You felt it. I know you did. Your body reacted to me, and you squeezed me back. Despite the scarring, and the burns. You held on like you needed me,” he breathes, panting deeply as his stomach muscles flex in the dim light, sweat glistening across his skin.

“You claimed me too, that night. And I couldn’t resist going back.”

“I think you grew to expect me. You would return from a night out reeking of alcohol, get inside your home, pass out on your bed, and within a few minutes, you would be soaked. Dripping onto your sheets, waiting for me. Spread out and perfect. You wanted me as much as I wanted you, yet you didn’t even know who I was.” His hand squeezes yours, and you know you won’t hold on much longer.

“I tried to stay away. For months I would be off in another court, and you consumed me. At night I would lie awake, thinking about you, wondering if you were lying in your own bed, cunt dripping for me, waiting for me to soothe the ache. Sometimes I would be gone for so long your body forgot how to behave when I returned.” His words grow rougher, more agitated.

“So I made sure you remembered.”

“That first week when I returned from a mission, I wouldn’t sleep. I spent my time watching you, shadows happy to play with you again—they’ve always liked you more than anyone else. But you know that now, don’t you.”

As if listening in—which they very well might have been—the darkness writhes at your back, cresting over your shoulders and cupping your breasts delicately, swiping over your lips as you tip back into them.

“Sometimes it was nearly impossible to pull them off you. They would constrict around your thighs, tighten around your hips so you were secure beneath them. I quickly lost count of how many times they would want a turn with you, so I would let them,” he breathes, and you can feel that coil on the verge of snapping, heat sizzling beneath your skin as you squeeze him desperately. “You responded so beautifully to their kind of stimulation. And I would watch all of it.”

“Admittedly, I was a little careless. But you never noticed, so I suppose it doesn’t matter if I was a little sloppy here and there. If I got you a little messy, too.”

“It was rare I would be gone for longer than three or four months at a time, but when those longer missions called, I would rush back to you the moment I could.” A twinge of pain has entered his voice, thinking back on how long he had to keep his love for you a secret. How you were carefully shielded from it. For years. Decades.

“And sometimes I didn’t want you to wake clean of any marks of my own. If you weren’t even going to remember, then I might as well leave some trace,” he laughs sharply, arousal dumbing your mind as his words begin to mellow out. “But those never bothered you either. Not the bite marks, or the bruises, or the ache when you thought you hadn’t taken anyone to bed that night. Not even when you woke to find cum between your legs. Or a faint taste in your mouth.”

He sighs, bucking his hips softly, and you exhale heavily.

“Did you ever fuck me?” You breathe, tightening around him at the thought. “While I was asleep, I mean. Did you ever take me before I knew you?”

Azriel shakes his head, smiling now. “No, lovely girl. I wanted to save that for you. I wanted to be with you, and for you to be fully aware when I first went inside of you. And it was torture waiting. It was cruel to make me wait all those years. All that time, and yet you never picked up on that other scent that would consistently turn up on you. Maybe you grew accustomed to it.”

Teeth push into your lower lip, and you tuck your legs back under you, once again able to move.

“The first time I had you…I’ll never forget it,” he groans, hand releasing yours in favour of gripping your hips. “You screamed so sweetly. Begged me to stop, like you hadn’t been asking for it for decades. How you were able to scream at me to stop when your legs would practically fall open for me…” he laughs, and you buck over him, quickening the pace of your swirls.

“You took me as well as I knew you would,” he groans, hands helping you rise and fall on his cock. “Took everything perfectly. Even my blade.”

Your eyes roll back, and you allow him to take control, gripping your hips tight to pound in to you. “It was just supposed to warm you up. To stretch you out so we could both enjoy it when I entered you… But then you reacted so well to it, and you had to have an orgasm before you took me. And you looked so fucking edible.” He grits out the words, and your hips stutter, jerking as pleasure brims at your lashes.

“Azriel…” you pant, tears spilling as he hits those beautiful spots, making you bounce on him. “You looked so fucking good I couldn’t believe it. And you felt even better.”

You clamp down on him, taking each buck of his cock as he drives up into you, mind going blank except for his name playing on repeat in your head. Filled with only him entirely. Nothing else would fit inside you anymore. It has to be him.

Hot cum spurts inside, and you can only imagine the mess he’s made in your heat.

How full he’s pumped you; how deep his release is.

How deep he’s burrowed his way inside of you.

Hips slow to a relaxed pace, grinding down onto him, keeping him tucked away inside of you. Refusing to release a single drop as you continue fluttering around him lightly.

Words are far out of reach, but he collects you as you sway forward, blinking away drowsiness as you settle on top of him, nestling into his chest. Nosing at his throat, licking up his flavour.

Azriel laughs quietly from deep in his chest, and it twines with his heartbeat. “You’re perfect…you know that?” Warmth fills your heart as his arms wrap around you, shadows pulling the blankets to cover you, despite being the wrong way up in the bed. What does it matter when he’s around?

“I’m perfect if you’re perfect,” you mumble back, hardly succeeding in keeping your eyes opened.

He doesn’t respond, but you can feel his heart, can hear how it picks up speed, and you know he’s happy.

Hot lips brush your head, pressing kisses into your hair as he keeps it from your face. You burrow into him deeper, pulling the sheets closer as you roll off to his side.

Azriel squeezes you again, making sure you’re as close as can be.

Neither of you would want it any other way.

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#Azriel #Dark!Azriel #acotar #Azriel smut #Azriel x reader #Azriel x reader smut #dark fic #dark!Azriel smut #dark!azriel x reader smut #[***]#Stockholm Syndrome #October

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girlgenius1111 · 2 months

Text

homecoming

jenni hermoso x reader smut! 18+ jenni returns from a trip without you, intent on reminding you of who you belong to. you are only interested in proving to her that you've forgotten who is in charge.

warnings: dom/sub undertones, cockwarming, strap on use, cunnilingus, fingering, orgasm delay/denial, light choking...

-----

Resisting the urge to throw your phone across the room, you pressed the little heart in the bottom of your screen. Jenni's tattooed, muscular body, in a very small swimsuit was staring back at you, her smirk more than taunting. It had to be the 500th photo of her from this girls trip she was on, without you. You knew what she was trying to accomplish by posting them constantly.

You were so extremely done with it. You were practically vibrating with energy, and though it was not the kind that a workout would alleviate, a plan had begun to form in your head.

You put on your tightest spandex shorts and a matching black sports bra, heading into the home gym. Very few workouts had occurred in this room in the house that you and Jenni shared that hadn't ended in a different kind of workout. The memory of Jenni all over you on the weight bench, not patient enough to drag you out of the room, was making you miss the striker even more.

You went through your usual routine, starting with a long jog on the treadmill. You recorded a quick story while running, allowing the video to capture most of your upper body as you ran. You put a song over it, forgoing a caption for now.

Then, you moved over to the weights. Once again, you set your phone up, recording yourself doing squats with the bar held over your shoulders. You paused, adding the clip to your story, grinning to yourself when you noticed that Jenni had already seen your previous story. Jenni had told you once that when she went away, she would turn on your post notifications, not wanting to miss getting a glimpse of you, even if you talked on the phone every night that she was gone.

When you were done with the workout you were sweating appropriately, and your muscles were slightly more defined. Satisfied, you posed in front of the mirror, making sure as much of you as possible was clearly visible before taking a picture, and adding that to your story too.

Not 10 seconds later, your phone was ringing with an incoming call from your girlfriend. You denied it, knowing exactly what she was looking for with this well timed call, heading off to shower. Jenni didn't like to be ignored.

You didn't feel guilty in the least, though. If there was one surefire way to get Jenni to give you what you wanted, it was to make her realize just how much she missed you.

-----

Any more low cut, and your tits would have been falling out of the dress. It was intentional; you'd had to suffer through Jenni's swimsuit-related teasing. Teasing her back, with your own revealing photos, hadn't really scratched the itch. You wanted to tease her in person, make her crazy for you. More than that, you wanted her to fuck you. In the bathroom of the restaurant, in the back of the car, you didn't care. She probably could have thrown you on the table in front of the everyone, and no complaint would have left your lips.

Jenni, however, had not taken kindly to your teasing; of course not. She was possessive, loving nothing more than to leave marks all over your body, in case anyone in the locker room wasn't aware that you very much belonged to her. Posting the cheeky sports bra and athletic shorts pictures to your story, body glistening with sweat, muscles bulging from the workout you'd just completed had, as you'd hoped, driven her crazy.

She didn't doubt that you were hers; she was too confident, too cocky for that. Jenni just disliked sharing, your body was not just hers to touch, but also hers to look at. Something you'd evidently forgotten. Her own teasing wasn't even a thought in her head; you didn't get jealous like her. Her photos made you horny, not upset. Yours had made her both.

This was how you found yourself sitting in a rather fancy restaurant, frustratingly across the table from your girlfriend, who was gazing at you with a burning look in her eyes. She'd met you there, as you'd come from a media event, so there was no opportunity to get rid of some of the tension before being in such a public location.

Jenni hadn't bothered with more than a soft kiss pressed to your cheek and a tight hug before pulling your chair out for you, and beginning to talk animatedly about her trip. Her eyes gave her away, flicking down towards your chest, her tongue moistening her lips, as she lost her train of thought.

"What was that, baby?" You asked, resting your chin on your hand and leaning forward slightly, giving Jenni the opportunity to look directly down your shirt.

She exhaled slowly, regaining her composure and looking you straight in the eye. "We had a lot of fun. It was hot, though, I could barely stand to wear more than a swimsuit."

"It was warm here, too. I did most of my morning runs in just shorts and a sports bra." Your girlfriend's jaw clenched, an eyebrow raising as if to challenge you. If there was one thing Jenni loved, it was watching you run. It was almost obscene the way she watched you, eyes glued to your chest as you jogged. It was fine when you were wearing a shirt, not much was visible, but if you were just in a sports bra? Forget it. A workout was getting done, but not the one you had planned.

Your eyes lit up when you noticed that someone was approaching and it was your waitress. An objectively attractive waitress at that.

She introduced herself, and you felt Jenni's hard gaze on you at you as sent the waitress a sparkling smile, and complimented her earrings.

You ordered for yourself, cutting Jenni off just before she was about to speak. "And my friend will have..." you picked something you knew she would like, though you were fairly sure she was about to drag you out of the restaurant before the order could reach the kitchen.

The waitress left the table, and you allowed yourself to grin, looking up at your girlfriend. Jenni had one hand clenched in a tight fist, the other raking back through her dark hair.

"Go get in the car. I will pay." She said lowly.

"Jen, we haven't eaten," you said innocently.

She scoffed. "Do not make things worse for yourself. Go get in the car." The striker warned. Deciding you'd taken it far enough, and also feeling like you probably couldn't sit through dinner at this point, you stood, trailing a finger up Jenni's arm until she was out of reach, and you were heading out the door.

-----

Jenni had parked her car in the corner of the lot outside the restaurant, and it just so happened that it was rather secluded. You'd had an idea on the way to the car, when you noticed that your panties were uncomfortably damp. You smiled to yourself. Why not get rid of them?

That is how your girlfriend found you when she opened the door to the car, and looked down at her seat to see your discarded thong. She was frozen for a second, before her eyes slowly moved up to you, where you sat, hand disappearing under your short dress.

It wasn't often that you left Jenni speechless; she always had something to say. She was completely still for a moment, her jaw dropped at the sheer audacity you had. Then, she was moving before you could even prepare yourself, sliding into the drivers seat and wrapping long, nimble fingers around your wrist and yanking it away from your core. You hadn't really been doing anything; nothing felt as good as your girlfriend touching you, and you'd been left to your own devices for too long for your own fingers to be very exciting.

Your finger pointer and middle finger were glistening, though, and Jenni looked at them critically, before letting go of your wrist, and wrapping her hand around your neck instead. She leaned in close, whispering in your ear even though there was no one else around to here.

"If I see you touching what is mine again tonight, you will wish I stayed in Ibiza."

"I missed you too much to wish for that." You said softly, trying to lean in towards her. Her hand kept you against the back of the headrest as she shook her head minutely at you, green eyes glinting dangerously.

"You will rethink that when I do not let you come for a month." She warned. With that, she let go of you, turning around to face forward. You instinctually rubbed at the skin of your neck, even though it didn't hurt. The pressure was perfect, and even now, you could still feel the ghost of her touch on your neck, skin tingling lightly.

Jenni didn't miss the movement, and her face softened slightly as she put the car back in park, before it had backed out even a little.

"Okay?" She asked, grabbing your hand and threading her fingers with yours.

"Yeah, I'm good." You assured her, matching the soft smile she sent you. For all her bravado, all her cockiness, and though Jenni loved making you blush, making you squirm, making you scream her name, she loved seeing you smile at her more than anything else.

She brought your joined hands to her lips, leaving a soft kiss on the back of yours. With that, she reversed out of the parking spot, heading towards your shared apartment. She was calm and collected, but the speed with which she drove told the truth; she was very eager to get you home.

You thought you were getting your way. It didn't occur to you that Jenni was luring you into a false sense of security. You were very pleased with yourself, sitting in the passenger seat, your girlfriend's hand in yours. Jenni maintained her poker face, giving nothing away as she reviewed her plan in her head; a plan that had been in place from the very first instagram story you posted, and one that had only grown more severe as you continued to tease Jenni. She was still planning on giving you what you wanted, in the end, until your behavior at the restaurant. Not anymore.

You remained blissfully unaware, knee bouncing excitedly as you gazed out the window, no idea what you were in for.

-----

You didn't quite remember getting from the car inside the house and up to the bedroom; it was a blur of Jenni's lips & hands all over you, guiding you up the stairs as you let her take full control.

Your eyes opened for the first time since you entered the house when Jenni leaned up off of you, pausing to look at your dress for a moment, before bringing her hands to the hem, and tearing the fabric until the dress was completely ripped.

"Jennifer!" You complained, glaring up at her. She only grinned at you in response, peeling off her own shirt and bra and discarding them, not bothering with her pants for the moment. She yanked the now ruined dress out from under you, before nudging your legs apart and settling in between them.

"You missed me, huh?" She rasped, spreading you apart with her fingers. You only exhaled loudly in response, and she withdrew her hand, looking up at you with her eyebrows raised. "No? You did not miss me?" Jenni moved as if to get off the bed, and you whined pathetically, already reduced to a very weak version of yourself underneath your girlfriend.

"I missed you, missed you so much," you promised, relaxing back into the mattress when Jenni grinned triumphantly and returned to lay between your legs. She didn't waste anymore time, leaning her face closer and dragging her tongue through you. You sighed in relief, letting your eyes fall shut. Jenni knew every inch of you, knew how to make you feel good in a way you never had before her.

Jenni was merciless with her tongue, focusing her attention on your clit and humming against it as the taste of you filled her mouth. "Tan mojada para mi," she said breathily.

She steadily worked you up, tongue flicking at your swollen clit until your legs were twitching under her. She moved down slightly, pressing her tongue into you, feeling your walls pulse around it. Jenni didn't spend long with that, moving back up to your clit and sliding a finger through your wetness before pushing it into you. Your back arched, incredibly sensitive from an entire week of needing her.

You didn't think to be suspicious, or wary, when Jenni pushed you hard, 1 finger becoming 2, then becoming 3, rapidly fucking in and out of you, her tongue lapping at you with the same rhythm.

She knew you were close before you said anything, your walls tightening until she had a hard time moving her fingers, your legs wrapping around her upper body.

"J-Jenni, I'm so close," you warned her, expecting her to pick up her pace. Instead, she eased her fingers out of you, ignoring the pitiful sound of complained you let out.

"Jenni, please baby" you groaned. Jenni leaned off of you and towards the bedside table, and you took advantage of her momentary distraction, letting your hand slip between your thighs. As if she could sense it, your girlfriend's whipped around to glare at you.

"You will wait if I want you to," she said aggressively, waiting until your head retreated before returning to the nightstand to pick out the perfect strap to ruin you with.

She took much too long, in your opinion, to choose, but finally she turned back around to face you, now completely naked except for the harness and dildo strapped around her waist. The brunette settled back against the pillow and motioned you over. Eagerly, you scrambled forward, letting her maneuver you onto her lap, back to her chest, slowly sinking down onto the strap.

"You feel so good inside of me," you whimpered, pausing as you adjusted to the size.

"Take it all, I know you can," Jenni encouraged, an arm around your stomach pressing you further down as you panted and moaned, until all of her was inside of you. "There you go, taking my whole cock like the needy slut you are,"

Her words made you feel like you were melting into her, relaxing back into her body, and waiting for her to start to thrust up into you. She didn't move though, so you tried to lift your hips, and fuck down onto her cock, but her arm tightened around your abdomen, holding you tight against her. You probably could have moved if you wanted to, but her wishes were clear, and you weren't feel as bratty anymore, you just wanted Jenni to tell you how good you were being. You remained still, even as your girlfriend reached over to grab her phone from the side of the bed, peeking at it over your shoulder and unlocking it. She went right to the camera roll, scrolling a bit before clicking on a photo, still unmoving inside of you. The novelty of the stretch was fading, quickly becoming painfully arousing.

"Jenni, what the fuck are you doing?" You complained, growing more and more frustrated with each passing minute that your girlfriend was not destroying you like you wanted.

"You did not let me finish telling you about my trip. I wanted to show you some pictures." She told you very calmly, as if she wasn't buried deep inside of you, as if she couldn't feel your legs shaking against her.

"Jenni, I swear to god," you sighed, beginning to remove yourself from her strap. She dropped her phone onto the bed, reflexes lightening quick, pressing you back down into her. At the same time, you felt her jerk her hips up into you, just a bit. It was enough for you to sink back into her, letting your head fall to rest on her shoulder. She didn't move again though, and when you opened your eyes, it was to see her holding her phone in front of you, waiting patiently for your attention.

"Are you kidding?" You laughed humorlessly.

"No. I am very serious. This is me at the beach," Jenni began, before swiping to the next picture. "This is me at the beach again. And on the boat. This is a cool bird I saw. Here is me without my top on. And me and Leila, doing flips into the water,"

Aside from the topless picture, which definitely peaked your interest, it was the most unsexy thing you'd ever endured in your entire life, despite the fact that you could feel her inside of you. You were about to tell her so, when she swiped again, and your words died in your mouth.

"This is me naked in the shower." She continued on in the same nonchalant tone as before, as if she hadn't just presented you with significantly more interesting content to look at. "Here I am fucking myself with that vibrator you like. And with my fingers. Do you want to see me come? I think I have a video."

You were floored. Jenni was confident, cocky at times, you knew that. The way she was showing you these photos, though, it was like she didn't even possess the ability to feel embarrassment. You knew that if the roles were reversed, and you were showing her these photos of yourself, you would be blushing red, hiding your face in her shoulder.

"Oh, here it is." Again, your girlfriend's voice was completely not reflective of the situation at hand, and something about how absolutely unbothered she seemed made you clench around her.

Jenni clicked play on the video, and the sound of her crying out your name filled the room, the camera positioned perfectly for you to watch her fingers pumping in and out of herself with obscenely loud, wet noises.

You'd been pretty good up until this point, not shifting much in her lap, but your strength collapsed entirely at this point. Your hips ground down against her pathetically, and you dug your nails into the arm she had wrapped around your stomach.

"No, pay attention." She said, moving the phone closer to your face.

"Jenni, jesus christ," you complained, still for only a second before you restarted the small circular motions with your hips, unable to help yourself. With how good she felt inside of you, unmoving, you knew it would 100x better if she would just fuck you.

Without warning, Jenni tossed her phone away from her, spun you around on top of her, her cock twisting deliciously inside of your pulsing cunt. She'd laid down further now, and you were in the perfect position to ride her. Her hands had an iron grip on your hips, though, and though you tried to move yourself up and down with your legs, you couldn't get anywhere. You frowned down at her, feeling so very full yet so unsatisfied at the same time.

"Did you think there would be no punishment? For those slutty stories, and the way you acted at dinner? I did not think I was gone long enough for you to forget who was in charge, mi amor."

"Jenni, I'm sorry, I didn't forget, I just missed you,"

Jenni continued on as if you hadn't spoken. "I had plans for you amor. I do not think you deserve to come as many times as I was planning anymore."

"Jenni, no no, please," you cried, eyes beginning to fill with tears. It was torturous, the way she was pressed up into you, unmoving. Every inhale jostled you slightly, and the minuscule movement only made you feel needier. You were dripping onto her lap, you knew, but Jenni didn't seem to be in a very forgiving mood this evening.

You'd messed up.

"No." She said simply.

"Jen, please," you begged, moving a hand to rest on her cheek, her stony expression remaining unchanging.

"Who is in charge here?" She asked finally, her voice a dangerous whisper. The volume didn't diminish the power behind it.

"You." Your reply was instant, and your girlfriend nodded.

"Tell me again."

"You, you're in charge, Jenni."

"You are mine, sí?"

"Yes, yours."

"And only mine?"

"Only yours, baby."

"Prove it." She said, and you nodded frantically.

"Anything, Jen, I'll do anything,"

"Get off." You paled at her words, now shaking your head, just slightly. Jenni smiled devilishly up at you, not waiting for a response before she easily lifted you up off her cock and dumped you gently onto the bed next to her. "Hands and knees."

You moved instantly, flipping onto your stomach and pressing up onto your knees, resting your elbows on the bed. Jenni shifted until she was kneeled directly behind you.

"Escúchame. I said hands and knees, not elbows and knees." Her voice was harsh, and she gripped your ponytail, pulling hard until you were resting on your hands instead of your forearms.

"Bueno. ¿Estás listo para mí?" You could only nod, breathing hard, as she dragged her cock through your folds, positioning it against your hole and pausing. "Creo que eres."

She pushed into you with one thrust, and you yelped, the movement inside of you after so long of stillness almost overwhelming. Jenni set a punishing pace, her hips smacking into yours as she filled you up, her toned thighs working hard.

"Feels good?" She asked, letting go of your hair in favor of wrapping an arm around your neck and pulling your body up flush against her. Her hips didn't stop, and you gripped onto her arm tight.

"Good, so good," you moaned. You were close already, your ruined orgasm from before combining with all the time Jenni had spent inside of you, unmoving to leave you a shaking, whimpering mess.

"I can tell you are close already, hmm? Do you want to come?"

"Yes, Jenni, my god, please," you pleaded, not concerned with how pathetic you sounded.

"You want to come?" She asked again, adjusting her angle slightly so that the tip of her cock was rubbing insistently against the spongy spot deep inside of you.

"God-yes," you managed, whole body trembling with the strength with your building orgasm.

Horrifyingly, as soon as the words left your mouth, Jenni slowed down, hand wrapping around your neck as she nibbled on your earlobe, before speaking into your ear.

"Do you think you deserve it?" She asked.

Somewhere inside of your absolutely melted brain, you knew what the right answer was.

"I- I don't know." You cried, "You're in charge, you decide, not me,"

"Muy buena bonita," she cooed into your ear, pushing you back down onto your knees, pushing your head down into the bed, and picking up her speed again. This time, she didn't slow down, reaching an arm around to rub tight circles over your clit.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, please let me come," you begged, unwilling to let yourself go until Jenni told you that you could.

She smirked, knowing she had you right back where she wanted you.

"Go ahead," she told you, admiring how your whole body shook violently, how you screamed her name, instantly falling over the edge at her words.

You thought you were going to black out for a minute, the pleasure completely taking over all of your senses as the waves of your orgasm rocked through you. It felt endless, until there was nothing left in your head. Eventually, you whimpered pathetically, trying to pull away from Jenni's slow thrusts into you, working you through it.

"That is it? You can only take one?" She mocked, pulling out even as she did so, rubbing your ass softly before easing you onto your back. You flopped down, chest still heaving as you blinked, completely dazed, up at her.

"Jen," you whispered, reaching out a shaky hand towards her. Her unbothered expression broke into a familiar dazzling grin, and you felt your cheeks flush at the pride on her face.

"My good girl, my perfect girl," she cooed, quickly taking off the strap before settling on top of you, knowing you liked to feel her body pressing down on yours. She left soft kisses where her face was pressed into your neck, and you sighed happily, even as her hair tickled your bare skin.

"Love you," you whispered, and Jenni laughed softly at how fucked out you sounded.

"I love you too, mi niña bonita."

"I missed you." You said, although you told her before, the words holding a stronger meaning now.

"I missed you, too." Jenni replied, pulling her head away from your neck to press her forehead to yours. It could have been left unsaid, considering the way she'd just made you fall apart, and the way you'd clearly been craving it, but it was nice to hear, nonetheless. Jenni never left anything unspoken, letting you know how much she loved you every second of every day. Her caring actions were a nice reminder, and you thought to yourself that you really did prefer it when she was in charge.

-----

i was going to have a nervous breakdown if i spent anymore time trying to figure out a better ending so you get what you get and you don't get upset.

not too sure how i feel about this honestly, i feel like i'm missing something, but i can't figure out what, so you get it before i delete and restart.

hope you enjoy, jenni girlies :)

#jenni hermoso x reader #woso imagine #woso x reader #woso one shot #woso fanfics

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glitch-karma · 9 months

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hai i want to req a scenario where bsd characters has a crush on the reader and tries dropping hints but the reader just thinks that they’re being nice :D

characters: yosano, nikolai, akutagawa, ranpo, jouno

I added Chuuya cause I am self-indulgent, but enjoy!

Tw: Very light talk of characters being very touchy, but still sfw

Yosano

she's so obvious

Constantly complimenting you

Saying how pretty/handsome you are

Maybe a little touchy iykyk

She honestly wants to confess and have a serious relationship with you

and she's been trying to drop hints but..

"Oh Y/n~, you're so cute I could eat you up.."

"Huh? You can't eat people Yosano! Do you need something to snack on?"

"ugh. No, thank you, dear..."

Finally, she'll confess to you after patching you up after a small mission.

"Y/n.. I uhm, really like you."

"Awe, I like you too Yosano! You're my best friend"

She falls on the floor momentarily before just jumping up, grabbing you by the collar, and kissing you.

"O-Oh!" "Yeah. Oh."

"So? Do you.. Like me too?"

"W-Well. If it means we could do that agai- MPHM!"

Nikolai

Another obvious one

Now he's the real feeler upper

He will not let you GO MAN

Definitely a grabber too

I have this vision of him full-on grabbing your ass and you're just like "Oh? What's up, Nikolai?"

Surprise hugs from behind

He lets you braid his hair

Unlike Yosano, he will not be as patient

He'll grab your hands, get down on one knee, and scream:

"Y/n~! I love you! Please go out with me so we can be free together!"

You are not expecting this at all

So you shakily nod

Then he'll pick you up bridal style and run around with you in his arms <3

Akutagawa

Now with him

I wouldn't fucking notice either bro

His idea of hints is odd

"You don't suck at fighting.."

"Uhm... Thank you?"

He's read that some people give food to their crushes, so he'll randomly just set a cup of tea down on your desk

Since it's a food he likes, he'll also just leave figs on your desk???

It's, very confusing to say the least

In this case, I don't see him ever actually confessing

it was actually Chuuya that found out and pushed him along

Aka, he dragged you both into the same room and pushed Akutagawa along

but it all worked out in the end

Ranpo

Oh my God you gotta be real dence

CLIMBS ON YOU?

LIKE FULL ON SCALES YOUR BODY AND SITS ON YOUR SHOULDERS

And when you get tired and ask him to get off he's just like "Nah I'm good."

Shares his snacks with you

You brought him sweet mochi one day and that was the day he vowed to marry you

You thought he was joking?

Likes pitching your cheeks

"You're so squishy and cute Y/n~ Just like a dumpling" "Ranpo that hurts-"

The way he confesses I hear you ask?

One morning he just, out of nowhere kisses your cheek.

You FLIPPED out and he was just confused

"oh, are we not dating?" "WHAT? NO?!"

He didn't realize you were too busy to notice his feelings

Jouno

Side note: God we need more Jouno hc's fr tho

Jouno's way of showing he loves you?

Training you to the mfing bone.

Bro does not let up

If you're a hunting dog it's even worse

Y'know that scene where he stands on tecchou's back?

He does that all the time

Sometimes hits your head too

But, if he sees you're genuinely struggling he eases up

Honestly, he shows hints in very small ways that you wouldn't notice

Like a small pat on the back or bringing you water after a long day

All the other hunting dogs can see the way he listens extra intently when you talk as well

Another thing, he remembers almost every conversation you two have even had.

So he knows all your interests, likes, and hobbies

He would probably just casually do a normal confession, bring you a rose and a gift <3

Chuuya

Chuuya is terrified of letting people get too close to him (Kinnie moment-)

So for a while he wouldn't make any attempts at a relationship with you at all

But after you've stuck around him for years, even when others didn't, how could he not be smitten for you?

After a while of denying, he'll finally drop hints

He'll offer to drive you too and from work (mostly for the excuse to have your arms around him)

He also started bringing you lunches on Monday's

Has bought you jewelery and chokers galore

The expensive ones too cause he rich rich

He will drunkenly confess

"Damn.. Why do you have to go and make me fall in love with you?"

"..What?"

He has never sobered up so fast

He tried to stand up and leave, but you grabbed him and hugged him tight

After a few seconds, he did the same

#bungo stray dogs #bsd x reader #bungou stray dogs x reader #bungou stray dogs #bsd #chuuya x reader #bsd fanfic #bungo stray dogs x reader #ranpo x reader #jouno x reader #yosano x reader #nikolai x reader #akutagawa x reader #glitchs✧works

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dragonpropaganda · 2 months

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The Architecture of Rain World: Layers of History

A major theme in Rain World's world design that often goes overlooked is the theme of, as James Primate, the level designer, composer and writer calls it, "Layers of History." This is about how the places in the game feel lived-in, and as though they have been built over each other. Here's what he said on the matter as far back as 2014!

The best example of this is Subterranean, the final area of the base game and a climax of the theme. Subterranean is pretty cleanly slpit vertically, there's the modern subway built over the ancient ruins, which are themselves built over the primordial ruins of the depths. Piercing through these layers is Filtration System, a high tech intrusion that cuts through the ground and visibly drills through the ceiling of the depths.

Two Sprouts, Twelve Brackets, the friendly local ghost, tells the player of the "bones of forgotten civilisations, heaped like so many sticks," highlighting this theme of layering as one of the first impressions the player gets of Subterranean. Barely minutes later, the player enters the room SB_H02, where the modern train lines crumble away into a cavern filled with older ruins, which themselves are invaded by the head machines seen prior in outskirts and farm arrays, some of which appear to have been installed destructively into the ruins, some breaking through floors.

These layers flow into each other, highlighting each other's decrepit state.

The filtration system, most likely the latest "layer," is always set apart from the spaces around it. At its top, the train tunnels give way to a vast chasm, where filtration system stands as a tower over the trains, while at the bottom in depths, it penetrates the ceiling of the temple, a destructive presence. (it's also a parallel to the way the leg does something similar in memory crypts, subterranean is full of callbacks like that!)

Filtration system is an interesting kind of transition, in that it is much later and more advanced than both of the areas it cuts between. This is a really interesting choice from James! It would be more "natural" to transition smoothly from the caves of upper subterranean to the depths, but by putting filtration system in between, the two are clearly demarcated as separate. The difference in era becomes palpable, the player has truly found something different and strange.

Depths itself is, obviously, the oldest layer not only of subterranean but of the game itself. The architecture of Depths has little to do with the rest of the game around it, it's a clear sign of the forgotten civilisations that our friend Two Sprouts, Twelve Brackets showed us, there's not actually that much to say about it itself, it's mostly about how it interacts with the other layers of subterranean.

That said, Subterranean is far from the only case of the theme of layers of history. It's present as soon as the player starts the game!

The very first room of the game, SU_C04, is seemingly a cave. It is below the surface, the shapes of it are distinctly amorphous rather than geometric. (well. kind of, it doesn't do a very good job of hiding the tile grid with its 45 degree angles.)

But let's take a closer look, shall we?

See that ground? it's made of bricks. The entire cave area of outskirts is characterised by this, the "chaotic stone" masonry asset is mixed with brickwork, unlike the surface ruins which are mostly stone. This, seemingly, is an inversion of common sense! The caves are bricks and the buildings are stone. This is not, however, a strange and unique aspect but a recurring motif.

This occurs enough in the game for it to be clearly intentional, but why would materials such as bricks be used in otherwise natural looking terrain?

The answer lies in the "Layers of History" theme. This is in fact, something that happens in real life, and it's called a tell

To be specific, a tell is a kind of mound formed by settlements building over the ruins of previous iterations of themselves. Centuries of rubble and detritus form until a hill grows from the city. Cities such as Troy and Jericho are famous examples. The connections to the layers of history theme are pretty clear here, I think. Cities growing, then dying, then becoming the bedrock of the next city. The ground, then, is made of bricks, because the ground is the rubble of past buildings. The bones of forgotten civilisations, heaped like so many sticks!

#rain world #rainworld #rain world lore #rainworld lore #rw lore #rw #subterranean my beloved #thank you to videocult for making the first survival game themed around stratigraphy and new york city rats #i would've gone on for another paragraph about how OE relates to this but like.#that's dlc stuff #and i still think of the dlc stuff as modded content lol #better to keep it separate #also this analysis is not comprehensive! the layers of history stuff is common throughout #there's farm arrays there's the relationship between shaded citadel and five pebbles there's the stuff buried under garbage wastes #so much more #unfortunately i do not have much energy lol

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zvaigzdelasas · 4 months

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A growing body of research shows that authoritarian regimes can be responsive to ordinary citizens, but why is this the case?

Why do those in power expend any effort in dealing with citizens’ everyday complaints and demands when they face no pressure from electoral [editor's note: ruling party] competition?[...]

We tested whether responsiveness among local officials comes from bottom-up citizen engagement, from top-down oversight of government superiors, or from preferential treatment toward loyal supporters.

In our experiment, we made four types of requests asking for assistance in obtaining social welfare benefits on local government web forums and examined how differences in these requests affected government responses.

1: The baseline – a request to simply describe economic hardship.

2: Collective action request – an intention to take some undefined action with other people who face similar hardship if the government cannot help.

3: Tattling to superiors request – an intention to complain to upper levels of government if the government cannot help.

4: Party loyalist request – identification as a loyal, long-standing Party member.[...]

we find that the collective action requests and tattling to superiors requests generate higher levels of responsiveness from Chinese local governments than the simple description of economic hardship; however, the identification as a Party loyalist, does not increase responsiveness substantially. With the baseline request, we received responses from approximately one third of counties. To put this number in context, one third is higher than responsiveness of U.S. state legislators to constituents (~20%) but lower than the responsiveness among members the U.S. congress (~40%) on certain [sic] issues. Adding the intention of collective action and tattling to superiors both increase response rates by 8-10 percentage points.

The second finding is that the collective action requests, compared with other types of requests, made the local government respond in a more public manner.[...]

Third, we also find that local officials are more likely to provide pertinent and concrete information to citizens when receiving the collective action requests.[...]

these results show that top-down mechanisms of oversight as well as some forms of bottom-up pressure exerted by citizens can increase government responsiveness in this particular authoritarian context. Regardless of whether responsiveness derives from top-down mechanisms or bottom up pressures, citizen engagement seems to be consequential.

seems like an awful lot of words to explain this when "the Chinese Government is democratic" is just 5

#add this together w that harvard-sponsored study on approval of the central govt @ other chinese bots

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after-witch · 8 months

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Best Regards [Hisoka x Reader]

Title: Best Regards [Hisoka x Reader]

Synopsis: You're tasked with looking for Hisoka on the Black Whale. You get more than you bargained for.

Word count: 3800ish

notes: violent noncon, sexual assault, violence against reader, descriptions of blood and injuries, victim blaming against reader

It was not in your nature to question Chrollo Lucilfer, and you weren’t about to do it now. Even when there was a small, hard, resilient pit in your stomach that wondered if this was the right move. Or if perhaps you should have said something earlier, before everyone separated. It’s not as if Chrollo was ever unreasonable, but everything was for the good of the Spider and if that meant acquiescing to his decision in this case, when he seemed so intent.

He had asked you to allow him to keep your nen until Hisoka was found and dealt with, and you handed it over without a complaint. Of course you did. It was the first time he’d ever asked for your nen, and if you were willing to self-reflect a little deeper, you might admit that it was at least a little flattering.

You weren’t, you knew, the strongest (or even close to it) of the Spiders. You couldn’t mow down a group with a sweep of your arm or lift up an oncoming car and throw it into traffic. When it came to delegating who was leading the charge in a mission that required anything like that, you were certainly not at the front.

You weren’t helpless. You could hold your own in certain types of combat, of course. Nobody in the Troupe was weak against the typical combatants you personally came across. Over-eager mafia guards with faith in their guns; greedy non-combatants eager to buy priceless forbidden trinkets… all could be dealt with using the knife in your pocket or a hard, horrible kick to their neck, cracking the bones like an egg.

But if push came to shove with a nen user, well… there was a reason you were not typically sent out alone. Your own nen was useful to the Troupe, but for reconnaissance only. Once you encountered a person, you could immediately identify them through their body heat signature through any surface.

All you had to do was activate your nen and begin to search, and spot the particular pulsating colors assigned to your target. From there, the rest of the Troupe could do what they needed. Which, admittedly, often involved the gruesome demise of said target--then or later, tied to a chair after all the information had been cut out of them.

Maybe you weren’t the strongest fighter. But you were loyal to the death, and Chrollo knew that. It was an attribute that one must have, in order to be a proper spider. That’s what brought the lot of you to this godforsaken ship, after all, isn’t it?

But now you were left without your nen, without that distinct advantage that gave you the upper hand when it came to finding your target. Chrollo would put it to good use. And he needed it more than you, because you certainly weren’t going to kill Hisoka, even if you managed to find him.

If you did find him… well. You were stealthy. You would slink away and find one of the others and set a beautiful chain reaction in motion, one that ended up with Hisoka exactly where he belonged.

But first… to find him.

To call the Black Whale a “ship” was an understatement. It was not a ship. No, It was an entire country, teeming with life; with people, fights, loves, friends and so many dirty little secrets.

Hisoka was one of those dirty little secrets. He was somewhere on this ship, and come hell or high water, he would be found. By Chrollo. By the others. By you, perhaps. And he would be dealt with, as others had been in the past.

The only problem was--how in the hell were you going to find him?

WIthout your nen, you were left to rely on your natural senses. They were heightened of course, but that didn’t necessarily make it an easy task. There were thousands of people on this tier alone… crowds and crowds, weaving in and out of public areas, arguing over this and that, laughing, yelling, calling to so-and-so over the noise.

In theory, Hisoka should be easy to spot. He was tall. He was outrageous. He never failed to make a splash, appearance-wise. If he was walking in a crowd, it wouldn’t be impossible to spot him, if you were looking for him. Yet no matter what room you searched, how many faces you scanned, he wasn’t there.

You’d wondered, though, if he might have altered his looks before getting on the ship. Maybe he toned them down to avoid being too obvious.

He had to know that the Troupe would follow him. He wasn’t stupid. He was many things, yes, but never stupid.

You pass yet another common area--this one even dingier than the last, which seems to be the trend--that proves to be fruitless, filled with only groups of people in varying states. Some look tired or hungry or sick. Some are arguing. Some holding hands. Some yelling after one another to come-back-so-we-can-do-this-and-that.

But no Hisoka. The same as the other rooms, the other corridors. Countless people, blurry faces that you wouldn’t remember in a few seconds, none of them the person that you were desperate to find. If only you could see his damn body signature.

And really… but oh, the thought shouldn’t come to you, because Chrollo would not have brought any of you here (surely) were it not true. Yet here it comes anyway, slow and practical: Is Hisoka even on the ship?

You glance around you, taking in the mundane faces once more. He could be here. He could be in hiding. He could be in disguise.

Or he could be somewhere else entirely, and all of this was a trap meant to lure the Troupe onto the Black Whale. Or maybe he was--

“Found you~!”

There’s no time to react to the deceptively jovial nature of Hisoka’s voice before your body whips backward and your stomach lurches hard, yanked by the power of nen-induced gravitational forces that pull you completely against his chest and refuse to let you move forward.

But you’re not helpless, are you? No. Your hands move quickly, pulling out the knife in your pocket and preparing to jab straight into an artery. Chrollo might not be happy if Hisoka bled out here and now, but it’s better than letting him get away--alone or with you.

Hisoka is faster, and your knife is thrust out of your hand with a sticky sound. You can tell Hisoka is gripping the handle tightly when the point of the knife is pressed against your back. Not in subtle warning, but truly pressed, the point digging into your flesh with a flash of pain. You can feel blood trickling down, wetting against your shirt, where it will surely stick and stain.

“You never were the strongest, hm?” His voice is right in your ear, his breath a mixture of some sweet concoctions. Gum and candy and mints. “Why did dear Chrollo send you out alone…”

You feel your lips curl up in a sneer, for all the good it does you, but whatever insult your mind was going to conjure is lost when Hisoka lets off a soft little hum and begins to drag you--though the word is perhaps not quite correct, as you’re stuck to him with his damn Bungee Gum--away. All the while, the knife stays in the flesh of your back, burning every time he gives it a little twist.

No one in this part of the ship pays you any attention after they see who’s dragging you. Eyes glance over you and quickly look away. Someone skitters off--maybe to find whatever passes for law enforcement, though they had precious little presence in this part of the Black Whale--but you don’t place faith in them. You never placed faith in anyone but Chrollo and to a different extent, the other members of the Troupe.

Present company excluded, of course.

Before Hisoka dips into one of the winding corridors past the common room, you jerk your hand behind your back. Hisoka easily bats it away, keeping you from grabbing the knife--or so he thinks. You let the blood you’ve gathered from your wounded back drip down your fingers onto the floor. You leave another smear on a wall just before Hisoka turns.

Blood, deep and red--your version of Hansel’s pitiful breadcrumbs.

With any luck, someone from the Troupe will find it.

The maze of the Black Whale has never been as irritating as it is now. Soon enough, Hisoka has taken you away from even the outskirts of the level, into what must be some little-used crew spaces. The room he seems to decide upon is sparse and dark, with metal walls and a few gas lamps giving the room a soft glow. There are no beds or furniture, only the lamps and a barred clock. Maybe it was meant to be a crew quarter before it was abandoned.

Doesn’t matter. What does matter is that once Hisoka has locked the door (where did he get a key? The question is tucked away for later, for Chrollo, for the others) he releases you from his hold and you stumble forward. Your back aches and the damn knife is still in his hand, twirled easily with his fingers.

He doesn’t quite look like himself. Gone are the ostentatious clothing and styled hair. Instead, he’s wearing something simple, a dark shirt and trousers, and his hair hangs loose. He’s still Hisoka, there’s no doubt about that. The smile alone is enough to give him away, now that you’re up close. But it’s enough to make him blend in with the masses, when you aren’t sure who you are looking for.

“Well?” He asks, splaying his arms out, holding the knife carelessly--like a toy. “Do you want to play? Or shall we wait for the others?” The light of the gas lamps makes his visage even more irritating to you. You want to shine a spotlight on him, show him for what he is.

You take a fighting stance, and he only quirks his head at you before his smile grows wider. More indulgent. But there’s no judgment on your end for that, no need for a bruised ego or snapping words. You’re not a combative fighter, and you never were. You could hold your own sometimes but… against Hisoka? The thought isn’t even worth entertaining.

But what else were you supposed to do?

With your back bleeding and your nen (such as it was) gone, you launched yourself at Hisoka with just the faintest hope of lasting long enough for backup to arrive.

How quickly it ends would be laughable, if you could find any of this funny. The knife he pilfered from you flies through the air, aimed at your chest--my heart, you think--and you manage to dodge just enough for the knife to slice your shoulder, cutting your shirt and taking off a layer of skin. It was thrown so hard that the blade slides right into the metal wall.

You could whirl around and try to grab it. But it’s smarter to keep an eye on Hisoka, so you do.

And… so does he. His eyes roam up and down, and it makes your stomach begin to harden, your thoughts turning to things they normally didn’t in a situation like this.

“Ohh,” Hisoka says, voice slow and sticky as his telltale trick. “Well, that’s a sight.”

You don’t know what he means at first. But when the sting of your missing skin catches up with you, you glance down at your injured shoulder. The knife cut through the fabric of your shirt as well as your bra strap, both of which now hang limply down, exposing one bared breast.

There’s only so fast your thoughts can go, trapped in a metal room with Hisoka, no clear way out, and a knife firmly embedded into the wall. Your eyes dart here and there, desperate for options. If you could get the knife out, you might be able to keep him occupied long enough for someone else to spot your blood, and if they did--

Hisoka sighs, interrupting your thoughts, and it’s almost like a croon which makes the hairs on your arm stand on end. Sensing danger was a skill you developed as a child, and it was no less fine-tuned as an adult. Something was going to happen. Something awful.

“Well, well--why not?” He asks himself. There’s a smile on his face and his voice and it sets your nerves on edge. “We’ll be here for a while. Don’t want to get bored, do we?”

You only have time to get out a gruff “What are you tal--” before Hisoka swoops in, extending his leg for a kick, and breaks your leg with his foot. It’s as simple as breaking a twig for him, and for you there is a bright flash in your vision just before you go down. The sound of the crunch is almost worse than the pain, but only for a moment, when you land hard and awkward and the pain bursting in your ribs sends stars into your eyes.

But you don’t cry out. You’re better than that, at least, it’s the one thing you hold onto in the moment as adrenaline and pain compete for attention in your racing mind.

Something else elbows in, as well, almost literally--Hisoka, pouncing down on you, tall and looming. His wrists grab your arms and pin them down to the ground. The carpetless floor is cold but you can feel sweat--or perhaps it’s the blood from your back--underneath.

“Should I break these too?” Hisoka muses, not quite addressing you. He’s smiling softly, almost serenely. It makes you hate him more. “I do so want to hear all your pretty noises.”

Hot breath pushes in and out through your nose and you grit your teeth.

“Fuck you,” you say, before spitting right in his satisfied, smiling, smug face.

But the bastard doesn’t change his expression at all. The thin dab of spit sits on his cheek and he just beams down at you, the skin around his eyes crinkling.

“Well, it was your idea.”

You see his hand curl in a fist just before he punches his wrist out, short and swift, and breaks your nose. The sound of the crunch is registered first, before a heavy, sharp pain--the pain of splitting bone fragments--spreads across your face. Unbidden tears stream down your eyes, and you feel and taste the blood that pours from your nose rather than smell it.

“You know,” Hisoka says, leaning close, his breath hot on your bleeding face, “on some women, this might make them look less pretty. But on you?” He sticks out his tongue and laps at the spot underneath your nose, teasing your upper lips. “It’s darling. Really.”

“Fuck you,” you repeat, a hint of bubble in your tone from the blood that makes its way into your mouth. You spit, managing to dribble some of it out. It oozes down your chin with your drool and tears.

Hisoka reaches out and tucks a sweaty piece of hair behind your ear.

“Eager, aren’t we?”

Somehow, it didn’t register before, what Hisoka meant. What Hisoka was planning.

You aren’t stupid. You’ve seen him act vulgar before; seen him groan and wet his lips in battle, flirting, cooing, sometimes even sporting an erection visible through his pants.

Speaking of--you glance down and see that “sometimes” has occurred now. And it’s then that things seem to click into place in your frazzled mind, pushing through the pain in your back and your leg and your face.

He’s going to…

The word doesn’t come, because Hisoka busies himself by tearing off the rest of your shirt, the bra flying to the wall with it. You have the presence of mind to strike out when his fingers dance along the waistband of your pants, but it does you no good. He grips your fingers firmly--they might be fractured, but there’s a rush of humiliating adrenaline that keeps you from focusing on it--and peels off your pants and underwear in a surprisingly swift motion. At least, you think dimly, he didn’t rip them.

There’s a slow thought process that begins to weave its way into your brain. What should you do, now? It wasn’t something that happened, wasn’t something even on the radar, of previous assignments and missions and heists. People who hated the Troupe wanted all of you dead. No one had--to your knowledge--tried to do something like this before. No one had been strong or smart enough to even get this close to you, much less the members who were physically stronger.

But this was Hisoka, and a completely different scenario. One that you found yourself unprepared for, physically and otherwise. Do you fight? You won’t win. Do you seethe and tell him exactly what you think of him? He might get annoyed and kill you, and then you’d be useless to everyone.

At least if you live, they’ll know Hisoka is on the ship. You can still help. You can still--

There’s a condescending gentle pat to your cheek--then another, and another. It doesn’t hurt directly but it jostles your face, causing fresh, sharp pain to shoot up your nose.

“Are you still there? Don’t pass out on me now… you should be able to take a few broken bones.”

You feel your gaze harden and it only makes him laugh. He traces a shape--a heart, the fucker--on your cheek with his finger before taking both of your wrists and pinning them next to your head on the floor.

When you glance down again, you realize he’s pulled down his trousers, which must be discarded somewhere in the room. You can see his naked, erect cock and there’s a strange realization that comes over you.

He’s going to fuck you. Here, in this isolated room, underneath the ocean. He might kill you after. Or during, who knows. It’s a fact that this will happen and that these are possibilities. The logical part of your brain holds onto this fact, as if it might make it easier.

“Ready?” He smiles down at you.

You’re not ready, and he knows this, and that’s what makes it fun for him.

He pushes inside with a single hard thrust, and you feel a burning sear on your insides as he presses his cock fully inside you with no attempt to ease himself (or you) into things.

“Mmm,” he groans, pulling out just enough to thrust back in again. “Tighter than I thought. The boss hasn’t had you?”

There’s a blossoming pain in your chest. Broken ribs or humiliation or some terrible mixture of both.

You grit your teeth and you don’t say exactly what you want to say, because it might make him angry enough to kill you, but you can’t let things slide entirely.

“Don’t--” Your breath hitches when he thrusts inside you harder than before, you’re sure you must be bleeding between your legs now. But you force yourself to continue.

“Don’t talk about him… you… you traitor.” You wish the word had some weight, but you can tell it means nothing to Hisoka.

At least nothing bad. Because you can feel his cock twitch inside you and it makes bile rise in your throat, hot and stinging.

Hisoka runs his fingers through your hair. There’s something sticky on his fingers--your blood?--that makes you wince. The deceptive gentleness only lasts a moment before he backhands you, catching your broken nose on his fingers. Tears fall from your eyes against your will, and you feel fresh blood trickle out of your nose.

“So mouthy! I love it!”

His cock twitches again and you feel him sigh at the sensations it must give him, to be forcing himself on you, thrusting himself in and out of your abused sex.

You don’t know how long it goes on. Long enough for the searing pain to turn into burning ache, for the pain between your legs to blur together with the pain everywhere else.

But eventually he must be reaching his limit, because he begins to speed up his thrusts, pressing the fingers on your wrist down enough to hurt.

“Tell Chrollo,” he says, a hint of an uncontrolled, breathy pant in his name finally creeping in at the direct use of Chrollo’s name, “that this is his fault.”

HIsoka’s fingers tighten on one of your wrists as he increases his force and his speed, and you feel and hear the crunch, the sharp pain joining the ache of your battered body.

“He sent you alone,” he continues, thrusting harder with every word. “He took your nen, semi-useless as it is.”

There’s no grand finale to his orgasm, only the feel of his muscles tensing above you, a single final push as he emptied himself inside you. And then Hisoka himself, leaning in to whisper in your ear, voice dripping with deceitful honey.

“He should have known better than to send a weak thing like you to look for me. He could have at least let you keep your nen… then you might have seen me coming, no?”

A chaste kiss is pressed to your cheek. You feel the stickiness of clear lip gloss left behind. Ah, you think, a dull, slow, stupid thought. Then he didn’t give up his vanity entirely on the ship.

You don’t move from your spot on the ground. You’re not sure you want to try, just yet. You hear Hisoka’s footsteps receding, hear the whining of the metal door opening and the clang of it shutting behind him.

For a while, you hear nothing at all. Nothing except your ragged breath.

And then your grunts and irritatingly soft whimpers as you slowly, agonizingly sit up. You don’t want to be found like this. Weak and bleeding and…

Your fingers fish around on the floor until you find your torn shirt, your underwear, your pants. It takes you a long time to get redressed. Your shirt doesn’t even cover you fully, and you fumble with your aching fingers and likely broken wrist to tie it off, giving you an ounce of modesty.

Every part of you aches. Some parts of you are broken. There’s a horrible soreness between your legs, and you know without checking that it’s not just Hisoka’s seed that’s leaking out of you but blood.

But you manage it. Carefully. Painfully.

Sometime later, the door opens again, a metallic whine.

But it’s not Hisoka, come to brag or finish you off. It’s Chrollo, standing alone, the lights of the hallway obscuring everything but his silhouette, which wavers despite the fact that he’s standing in place. Your vision is spotty, dizzying--from the blood loss or the pain or the stress or all of it at once.

His footsteps to you are slow, careful. You dimly register him kneeling in front of you and saying your name. You feel his eyes looking you over, and it’s a different feeling than Hisoka staring at your exposed, broken, bleeding body. But it’s just as open, and you only just resist the urge to curl up on yourself and hide what little that you can.

It would just aggravate your wounds, anyway.

You don’t see Chrollo’s expression when everything clicks into place, but oh, damn it all. You hear his breath hitch and somehow that hurts more than your broken ribs.

“Look at me,” he says finally, his voice soft but commanding.

And you do. Chrollo’s expression is neutral, calm. It’s what you need, maybe. What he thinks you need? You’re not sure if there’s a difference.

“Hisoka.” He doesn’t elaborate further, and he doesn’t need to.

You nod.

“I’ll have you taken care of,” he tells you. His words are slow and deliberate, and there’s an inkling of shame in your chest at them. You shouldn’t be in this position, not in front of Chrollo or at all. You’re meant to be above this weakness. Aren’t you?

There’s a few moments, and you’ve been around Chrollo to know what he’s going to ask next. It doesn’t make the way it turns your stomach sour any less unpleasant.

“Did he say anything important to you?”

You think. You wet your lips, tasting blood and mucus.

And then you shake your head. No. You won’t tell Chrollo what Hisoka said, because despite the way his words twisted something in you, deep down--it’s not true. You’re an adult. You joined the Troupe, fought for your place in it. You joined the mission. You agreed to go alone, agreed to hand over your nen.

Chrollo sighs. He inspects you, again, looking for tell-tale signs of what you won’t say to him.

And then he tells you, simply--

“You don’t have to lie. Not to me.”

It’s not an order. It’s not even a request, not really. It’s an admission of the fact that he trusts you and you trust him and you don’t have to keep things from him.

In the end, you don’t know what’s more bitter. Your failure, the mucus-tinged blood on your tongue, or the stilted admission that comes next.

"He said it was your fault. He said you shouldn't have sent me alone without at least my nen so I could at least see him coming.”

Your words sound robotic, even to your ears. How does Chrollo hear them? Hopefully for the mechanical repetition that they are. You don’t want the words to carry any weight, because you don’t believe them.

Chrollo closes his eyes. Then he looks at you, and it might just make you cry. Because his expression, just for the moment that he allows you to take it in, is absolutely dreadful.

It passes, and you’re glad, and maybe it’s the blood loss but you swear there’s a euphoric relief when Chrollo’s expression returns to neutral and he merely wraps his arm around you and assists you up.

You let him, biting your cheek to keep quiet with all of the pain in your broken, used body as he assists you to your feet--or rather, your one unbroken foot--before lifting you into his arms to carry you out.

You don’t want to wince. Or whimper. Or do anything but let your mouth fill up with fresh blood from the blisters from your teeth, the consequence of keeping quiet now.

Because above all, you don’t want to see that look in Chrollo’s eyes ever again.

In fact, you realize, grim--you’d rather die than see that look once more.

#hisoka x reader #hisoka morrow x reader #darkfic #afterwitch writes

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forbidden-sunlight · 1 year

Text

yandere!poseidon headcanons with fem!kokushibo!reader

warning: obsessive behavior, violence, spoilers from manga/anime. Please take caution when reading the content.

Credit for this piece goes to @recreationalfanfics and their phenomenal works, specifically this one. I would like to specially thank my friend @nixes-noxes for helping me fine-tune this script to its fullest potential.

The intention of this story is for entertainment purposes only. The behavior exhibited here is inappropriate and unhealthy, hence it should not be encouraged. There are also triggers, so please take caution. You are responsible for your Internet consumption!

A demon was born from the malice of mankind. That is the story that humans and gods believe…but that is not the truth in your case.

Fearing death, you willingly drank Muzan Kibitsuji’s blood and became the first Upper Moon. One of Twelve Kizuki to serve him and provide aid in his quest to obtain a solution to walk in the sunlight. You had died by the hands of your descendant and his fellow Demon Slayers, unsatisfied with the life you had lived as an abomination. In the end, you could not attain the innate talent your little brother possessed.

Because you were a creature classified as ‘evil’, you were confined to the depths of Helheim as punishment to suffer for all eternity. Not wanting to perish for a second time, you sliced down enemies and cultivated your Moon Breathing Style in the hellish landscape before you were suddenly plucked out of that place, coming face-to-face with your new master: the Valkyrie called Brunhilde.

Apparently, she had intended to call out another champion to fight against the gods in a tournament known as Ragnarok, but for some unknown reason you were whisked here by her summons. Seeing this ‘accident’ as an opportunity, you laid out your sword and offered your loyalty to her. Yes you were a demon, but you had been loyal to Muzan until your dying breath. Being the servant to a demigod would not be any different, minus facing the antagonization of both human and gods alike for just being by her side.

It was better than returning to Helheim, anyway. The water did not scorch your skin and the high quality tea leaves were exceptional.

The smallest pleasures in life made a difference…but does that include being on the roster to fight against the infamous tyrant of the divine waters, Poseidon? Probably not.

Yandere!Poseidon

This is a god who is the physical embodiment of perfection. He is a king who has no need to be supported by individuals who are beneath him in the hierarchy of all life. Furthermore, he was not pleased when his little brother had added him as a contender in this childish tournament without his consent. Why stall the inevitable fate of humanity with Ragnarok? It’s honestly a waste of time for him.

There has never been an opponent who did not quiver at the sight of his trident nor survived to tell the tale. So why should he even bother to give any effort in this fight? His opponent was a demon. It is only natural that a demon would be stomped down by someone like himself, even if it is a female one with a slightly impressive physique and once bore the moniker ‘Moon Hashira’.

Untamed [Hair Color] tresses held together in a ponytail that reached to her waist. [Favorite Color] nagagi-kimono and black umanori-styled pants tied with a white obi. [Eye Color] irises and red sclera with words written on them.

The only reason he even recognized the clothing is because Aphrodite whined about the ‘poor fashion’ taste of Brunhilde’s new ‘pet’...but did she honestly expect anything more from a demon?

No, but she enjoyed hearing the others praise her intellect and how no one could ever hold a candle to the beauty of the lusty goddess. A hypocrite by any other name. She and Ares had another falling out, again.

Still it would not bother the gods nor himself by allowing his opponent to try and land a hit on him before killing the unfortunate abomination. The effort of an ant trying to avoid being crushed by a boot is always…adorable.

This act of ‘kindness’ towards the Moon Hashira led Poseidon into a match that has lasted longer than the previous Ragnarok bouts. She did not hesitate to use the water surrounding the arena to create a heavy mist that acted as a smokescreen before attacking from behind with her sword. She slashed his calves and right forearm, then jammed her sword that is made from her own flesh and blood into his stomach. She was going to kill him. She would do whatever it took to win the fight.

This revelation enraged Poseidon. How dare a demon think that she can kill a god? Blasphemy! HE IS A GOD, HE IS PERFECTION. ANYONE WHO DISAGREES HIM DESERVES TO DIE.

And yet he still found himself kneeling on the circular platform, leaning heavily against his trident with the bloodied edge of her sword pressed against the side of his neck. If it isn’t the reversal of positions that bothered him the most, it was the look of indifference dancing in the Moon Hashira’s eyes. As if he was the one being a nuisance and not the other way around.

Suddenly, she withdrew her sword and sheathed it. “I will not kill you.” She said, “A hierarchy exists to keep the balance between those who sit at the top of the food chain and those who are barely scraping by. Those who upset the balance must be punished accordingly. I am a demon, so I should die by the hands of a god…but I will not allow myself to die by someone who does not respect my master. That is…embarrassing. So take this loss as an act of kindness from me. The humiliation of being defeated by someone such as myself is more than adequate punishment.”

Turning her back to him, she stepped onto the boat that was tied to a stone pillar and drifted back to the human’s side of the arena. Poseidon also retreated, refusing Ares’ offers to escort him to the medical wing and swiftly returning to his palace beneath the ocean floor. He ignored Proteus’ concerns, isolating himself in his quarters as he…unleashed his anger onto the furniture. They could be easily replaced…but his defeat cannot be remedied just like the splintered wood, the tattered drapes, or anything he had thrown around the room.

He has lost against an imperfect creature. Him, the one who is the most feared and blessed god in the pantheons. How could this have happened?! How?!

Though is the Moon Hashira truly an ant if she had beaten him? No. But there is no use thinking about the wretched embodiment of impurity anymore. He…has lost the match, and in the end it is just one loss for the gods. Humanity will be destroyed, and the divine waters will be restored to their glory once the vermin have been eradicated.

Shortly after he had regained his composure, Poseidon returned to the Grecian’s private balcony to watch the other matches. As he is a god, his wounds healed within a matter of hours…so why could he have still felt the sword in his belly, twisting his insides? Why?

This might be the starting point in his descent to madness. He would remain a silent statue even in the aftermath of his adopted nephew’s death by Jack The Ripper’s hands, and Shiva’s obvious win against Raiden Taeemon while his brethren watched the events unfold in awe and anger.

But no matter how hard he tried to dissuade thoughts about the Valkyrie’s servant, his mind always drifted back to the Moon Hashira. He silently reflected on their fight; he remembered the humiliation when she spared his life, her deadly grace as she released one form of the Moon Breathing Style, her perfection.

[First Name] [Last Name], the Moon Hashira and a demon summoned from the depths of Helheim to save humanity….she was perfection. And Poseidon wanted her.

Knowing that the moon always gravitated towards the ocean would only feed into his delusions that it must be a sign from the Fates that this is his other half. The companion who will be by his side for all enternity. So why does she still dare to stand by Brunhilde and whisper in the demigod’s ear? Why does she converse with the samurai Kojiro, when he had no business being near her, let alone sharing a plate of Japanese snacks and tea?

How dare she smile at the man who had killed Heracles and the traitorous Buddha? She is perfect, there is no need to waste her time teaching her breathing techniques to a brat that went toe-to-toe with Loki in the greenhouse!

When the tyrant of the oceans witnessed [First Name] showing more emotions around the other combatants, he knows must act swiftly or else she will be snatched away by someone else who is lesser than a god of perfection such as himself, or worse be cast aside by her malicious master for the sake of humanity’s survival.

He will make the necessary arrangements with Proteus to prepare his kingdom for the arrival of a new queen.

Bonus Content:

The Moon Hashira is fully aware of Poseidon’s psychotic tendencies and will not make it easy for him to whisk her away like Zeus’ previous mistresses. Nor is she blindly loyal to being oblivious to Brunhilde’s scheming.

She did not live for half of a millennia as an Upper Moon by being an idiot.

Taglist:

@rukia-writes

@recreationalfanfics

@dazailover1900

@nixes-noxes

@the-dumber-scaramouche

@onecantsimply

@yellow-snark

@radioactivesweet

#snv x reader #snv poseidon #record of ragnarok x reader #poseidon record of ragnarok #kokushibo!reader #x reader #yandere #yandere x reader #ns.fw #forbidden-sunlight #record of ragnarok #shuumatsu no valkyrie #poseidon headcanons

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call-me-strega · 2 months

Text

Dc x Dp Prompt #14: The Valentines Day Debacle

“debacle • \dee-BAH-kul\ • noun.

1 : a tumultuous breakup of ice in a river

2 : a violent disruption (as of an army) : rout

3 a : a great disaster b : a complete failure : fiasco.”

~ It was Valentine’s Day and Jason regrets agreeing to go on this date.

Weelll, kind of, but not exactly.

This “date” was actually a covert-op with three caped chaperones because he, Steph, Tim and Cass were all on cases that ended up being the same case.

Steph and Tim had caught wind of some allegedly magic potions becoming popular among college students used to help students score dates with their up coming Valentines. There weren’t any outright love potions but confidence boosters, things to increase your attractiveness, luck boosters, thing to get people in the mood. They had been investigating into it to make sure this wasn’t secretly a drug ring but found it to some real magical bullshit. They’d located the source’s lair/lab where they brewed the potions but not the potion brewer themselves.

Cass had been in Hong Kong when she caught wind of one of her targets following rumors of a witch who specialized in potions to grant small boons and bewitching charms. After dealing with her target she started tracking down the witch to find out her goals and intentions. She followed her trail across Asia, Europe and a good portion of the eastern seaboard before her path led her to Gotham.

Jason was investigating some upper middle class chick that started hanging around the alley trying to get in with the prostitutes and drag queens(and only succeeding in making them suspicious). She met several young men who abandoned the gang allegiances too trail after her like puppies. His investigation showed she was also circling Gotham elites and was in search of gossip on two things: people looking for love and a beau for herself.

They had been going over their cases at a team meeting when they realized their 3 targets were all the same woman. Between the four of them they pieced out she was some new age witch, descendent from an older family line looking to get rich and in a relationship. Her potions weren't really actively harmful but her use of them to gain the upper hand in business deals and amass a following of boytoys she decided weren’t hunky enough for her but would do as muscle was.

Tim and Steph knew she was planning on selling her potions at the Valentine’s/Winter market place in Robinson Park coming up. Jason and Cass knew she was looking to net some more followers while they were there so the plan was simple. One of the guys would go undercover to try and get recruited while the others stayed nearby for back up. They’d try to get some information out of her and if the need for it arose, to take her into custody and hand her off to the Justice League Dark. They’d already talked to Zatana to have her ready to come to Gotham should things go awry and gotten a charm from her to prevent them from getting put under her control.

Oh if only this didn’t go so wrong.

Unfortunately for Jason, he matched their little witch’s tastes to a tee. Thus, he was the one stuck being dragged around market under the guise of having agreed to a date with her. She dragged him around, made him pay for her things, tried to use his stature to intimidate others and was generally rude to the other patrons and staff. Oh, Jason despised her but grit his teeth and pretended to play nice. Cass was investigating her stall and Steph and Tim were tailing them.

Finally over the comms he heard the team confirm Cass had found the info she was looking for and he could finally ditch little miss witch. He broke it to her that he thought this wouldn’t work out and her eye just twitched. She must have tried to charm him because she asked him to stay with her and become her main beau, which he soundly refused. This set her off on a rage as she screeched over how her charm didn’t work and how Jason would have been perfect if she’d been able to get him under her thumb. He tried to back off when she lashed out with a magic rope insisting once she captured Jason he’d be the perfect leader to her adoring little boyfriend army.

So yeah she was more psycho than anticipated.

Spoiler and Red Robin began to swoop in for the rescue which only served to enraged her further. That’s when the team learned that she was talented in more than just potions. She used her magic to start awakening magical creatures in the park surrounding them. Nymphs shed from trees and little snow golems formed and began attacking RR and Spoiler.

Black Bat had run over to extract Jason when the witch noticed her. She shrieked in outraged proclaiming if she couldn’t have Jason no one else would and that he could become fish food for the frost creatures of Far Frozen before picking him up with a spectral vine and slamming him through the frozen lake into a swirling blue portal. Cass tried to go after him but the witch quickly engaged her with too much feral rage to realize she was outclassed in hand to hand against Black Bat. By the time Steph and Tim fought off the nymphs and golems it was too late. Whatever whirling portal had been in the lake closed and Jason was no where to be found.

As Jason pushed through the ice he had one final thought before he felt himself black out: ‘Worst Valentine’s Day ever.’

~ The first thing Jason felt when he came to was cold. He was still submerged under icy water. It was chilled him to the core but was almost soothing in a way. As if cooling of a burn. As is opened his eyes the world seemed to move in slow motion. He was still underwater surrounded by chunks of ice. He could make out sounds of distorted yelling as the world seem to get even slower.

Suddenly he felt something grab his collar and place itself under his arm. Jason was unceremoniously hoisted out of a frozen river and laid out on a river bank. He let out a harsh cough and his head got dizzy. He tried to regain his wits long enough to see who pulled him out.

It was large figure, maybe an inch or two taller than his 6 foot, with the bulk of a viking and the looks of one too. The man appeared to be around the same age as Jason, possibly older, and very concerned. He had messy white hair that was tied(or braided? Jason’s vision was still blurry) in the back. He was wearing armor made of some sort of hide leather and a dark gray metal (iron?) and covered in snow-white furs.

Jason stared at his savior trying to get his wits about him, willing his vision to clear. That’s Jason felt a warm fur cloak wrap around him as the man said something Jason wasn’t able to comprehend. He let out another harsh cough and felt himself being picked up in a princess carry. His rescuer moved incredibly fast for someone carrying a man of Jason’s stature. However, the motion did not help with the dizziness or the cold. Jason shivered, curling towards his “heroic knight” and pulling the cloak tighter around himself. This spurred the man to go faster.

Finally, everything stopped moving and Jason felt himself encompassed in warmth. Several more furs were wrapped around him and he was laid down to rest. At last Jason’s vision cleared enough to see the other man’s face properly. He had a rugged face and a strong jawline. He had a small scar near his eyebrow and round eyes with light eye bags beneath them. He had a straight nose and bow-shaped lips.

Jason felt the world slow down again and realized he’d soon pass out from the cold. The man lifted Jason’s head and slipped a pillow underneath. A rough hand gently pushed the wet hair out of his face and caressed his cheek. Jason stared into the man’s eye. They were kind, gentle, and such a vibrant green they seemed to glow. The man gave him a small smile and the last thing Jason heard before falling asleep was a soothing voice telling him “Rest, we will take care of you.” And with that Jason felt himself relax and fell asleep.

~ When Jason came to the first thing he saw was a 20-something-foot tall yeti with an icy cybernetic arm looming over the foot of his bed.

He promptly screamed and fell out of bed.

A vaguely familiar voice called out from another room.

“ FROSTBITE! I thought I told you not to scare him!”

In walked the man that had saved Jason from an icy death. Upon closer inspection now that he wasn’t dying the man seem 10 times as beautiful than Jason remembered. He almost seemed to have this ethereal glow to him. The man continued to admonish the yeti who just laughed heartily and continued on with whatever task he was trying to complete. The man turned his attention to Jason, smiling at him in apology and lifting him back into the bed.

“ I’m sorry about Frostbite. He won’t admit it but I think he gets a crack out of scaring his patients,” He said with a placating chuckle. His mirthful eyes met Jason’s puzzled ones and he continued on as he began to fiddle with few thermoses, seemingly searching for one in particular.

“ You must be quite confused. I don’t exactly know how you ended up here but this place called the Far Frozen. I felt a pulse of magic near the river and went to investigate and ended up fished you of the water. You were nearly frozen so I brought you back to village where you could get warmed up and medics like Frostbite could help you before the actual frostbite set in.”

He chuckled at his own joke before placing a cup in Jason’s hands.

“ It’s soup, drink up. It’ll help you get warm.”

Jason hesitantly took a sip of his soup. It was surprisingly good! He continued to sip his soup and Jason observed the man. He had a rather muscular build Jason noticed, staring at the man for no other reason than assessing if he’d be a potential threat (and for absolutely no other reason). Danny finished closing up his thermos and continued to speak.

“ I promise once Frostbite treats you for any illness or injury. I’ll help you get home. -Oh where are my manners” he held his hand out for Jason to shake. “You can call me Phantom.”

“ Call me Jay,” he replied, taking Phantom’s hand and a glance at his biceps. Phantom pulled away and stood up.

“Well, I’ll let you get back to resting. I’ll come back later when Frostbite gives you a check up and we can talk about how you got here and how to get you back” He turned and began to walk out before turning his head back one last time and waved. “I’ll see in a bit Jay.”

Jason watched him go and fell back into bed having finished his soup. As he pulled the furs and blankets back over himself he thought ‘Well maybe it’s not the worst Valentine’s Day ever.’

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gojos-thot-patrol · 6 months

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And with this, it all comes to an end...

Now Loading: Kinktober Season Finale

Synopsis: It was supposed to be a fun little joke, a gag you and your friends indulged at your annual Halloween Party. Of course it wasn't going to work, no way a "ritual" you found on WikiHow of all places was really going to summon an Incubus. But, if that was the case, then who was the almost angelic looking man standing in your room?

Kinks: Spectrophilia, Non-Con/Dub-Con, Mirror Sex, and Dacryphilia

You laughed at your friend's silly joke as you readjusted your witch hat and took a sip of your drink. Halloween night- the spookiest time of the year, and you were spending it with five of your closest friends. You couldn’t think of another place in the entire world you would rather be than right there on that couch, drinking suspiciously vibrant green cocktails and watching trashy B-grade horror flicks.

That was until the host's phone went off. Her excited squeal told her everything you needed to know.

“Ew, Is that Grease?” You asked, earning you an eye roll from the hostess and a giggle from the rest of the group.

“Why do you insist on calling Toji that?” She asked as she typed away a response.

“Cause he looks greasy.” You reminded her. She scoffed at you and shook her head.

“You’re only saying that ‘cause you can’t get laid.” She rebuffed.

“You’ve resorted to personal attacks, this means I automatically win!” You celebrated, sticking your tongue out at her.

“Wait, you still can’t get any?” One of your other friends asked, inserting themselves into the conversation, “Why not? You’re hot.” You just shrugged at their question.

“I haven’t found anyone worth my time.” you simply stated.

“She’s picky.” The host said. As she did, you saw a spark of an idea light up her eyes, and she more aggressively typed on her phone.

“Wait, weren’t you talking to that Zenin guy?” Another friend entered the ring, “What happened to him?” He asked.

“You mean Naoya? He dropped on the third date that he didn’t believe in the female orgasm. I wasn’t going to waste any more of my time with that.” You sighed, mostly out of pity for whatever woman he did trick into his bed, and sipped your cocktail.

“What if you fucked a demon?” The host asked, looking at you with frantically excited eyes.

“Congratulations! That’s officially the fourth weirdest sex question I’ve ever been asked.” You clapped for your friend.

“Only the fourth? What have you?- Not the point,” She shook her head and showed you the article she had pulled up on her phone. The Wikihow article, to be specific. You laughed as you read the title HOW TO SUMMON AN INCUBUS BOYFRIEND.

“Well shit, it’s worth a try,” You joked as you handed back the phone.

“Are you serious?” She asked, grinning like a mad man, “Because I have the things to perform the ritual, and I can’t think of a better way to spend Halloween night than getting you some demonic dick.” She winked. You chuckled as you thought about the ridiculous nature of mixing the metaphysical with cyberspace. Eh, fuck it, what was the worst that could happen? You finished off your drink and nodded.

“Fuck it, let’s summon the devil!”

“Well, an incubus not the devil-” Your friend corrected, “But yeah!”

🌒🌓🌔🌕🌖🌗🌘

The room was dark. You had just finished anointing the ceremonial candles- which definitely wasn’t just a pretentious way to say the six of you put essential oils on half used yankee candles. It was way more legit than that! You guys like…added intentions or whatever it was the article said to do. You all placed them on the reverse pentagram pattern on the ground, and you specifically lit them in a clockwise order, starting from the bottom) most point…Wait. Wait, no you definitely started from the upper right point. Oops?

Maybe you all shouldn’t have been doing this drunk. But, no one noticed! So you continued to spend more energy giving the bit far more commitment than it ever warranted. You moved to the hostess. “The scene is set Sister,” you fought giggles, “How shall we proceed?”

“Thank you my companion of darkness. I shall consult the sacred tomes.” She said pulling out her phone with a flourish and pulling back up the- and I can not stress this enough- WikiHow article, on how to summon a Sex. Demon. What a wild Halloween.

“It says we all need to do now is put the sacrifice in the center of the inverted star.” Your friend said. The room fell quiet for a second. As jokey as this had all been up until this point, the use of the word “sacrifice” had shifted the air to something much colder. More serious. You felt about a thousand sets of eyes on you, but you knew in reality it was only five sets. Five sets of burning, nervous eyes.

“Ugh, okay fine!” You groaned, dramatically throwing your head back to break the tension, “I’ll go get in the star!” You said with a playful smirk as you positioned yourself in the center of the pentagram. “Besides, who doesn’t want a Sexy demon boyfriend? I’ll gladly get sacrificed for that.” You joked.

“Excellent!” The hostess said with an excited clap of her hands. You watched as your friends went to their places, one for each point of the star. “Okay, I’m gonna send you guys the like, script I guess? So you guys know what we have to say.” She said as she sent the text to the group chat. You watched as everyone checked their phones.

“Is that…Latin?” one of your friends questioned.

“I think?” The hostess asked more than said.

“What does it mean?” A different friend inquired.

“I don’t know, demons come fuck me? How should I know what it means?” The hostess snapped.

“Shit- sorry I asked.” Your friend mumbled, and you felt kinda bad for them.

“Can we get on with this? I’m getting tired.” You said. It wasn’t a lie. You had felt your energy slowly sleep out of you from the moment your friends took their spots on the star, and a nap was really starting to sound phenomenal about now.

“Right, sorry babes.” The hostess said sympathetically, reaching out her arms. All of the friends complied, reaching out with their entire wingspans but still only managing to touch fingertips. It was enough though, the pentagram was transformed into a pentacle, and suddenly, you felt woozy.

“Gojo est optimus,” The all chanted in unison, low and serious. “Gojo tam terribilis est, vis eum tecum dormire.” Your ears started ringing, loud and hateful. “Colendum est Satoru Gojo!” As the last syllables fell from their lips, the flames of the used overpriced candles erupted into a brilliant indigo inferno with a molting cerulean core. The wall of fire surrounded you and warmed your body to the point of overheating. You stumbled to keep your balance. The air suddenly felt like thick oil, and your head felt like it was filled with cotton.

As quickly as the flames exploded, they vanished, leaving you to hyperventilate in the darkness while your friends all tried to process what just happened. Suddenly, a laugh split through the air and your skull.

“That's crazy!” one of your friends laughed, “I didn’t know essential oils reacted to fire like that!” He said. Slowly, the rest of you all joined him in his laugh, small nervous giggles finding the will to become genuine. Yeah, that made sense. The oils must have had..something in them to make them do that. Yeah.

You tried to ignore the feeling of someone grabbing your ass.

🌒🌓🌔🌕🌖🌗🌘

You didn’t stay at the party much longer after that. You told all of your friends you were tired, which, was true. You didn’t tell them that you couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched though. Or that every once in a while you felt like you were being touched. A thumb rubbing your thigh, or a kiss ghosted over your neck. You kept that part to yourself.

You knew you were probably just over thinking the whole ritual thing. The human brain was a powerful lump of electricity, and the placebo effect was undeniable. You probably just tricked yourself into feeling these things cause you fake summoned a fake demon. Yeah, that made sense.

As you walked into your apartment door, you felt it again. A firm hand grabbing the fat of your ass. In the safety of your own home, you gave into your initial reaction of swatting the invisible pervert away. “Quit it.” You growled at the wind.

You could have sworn you heard someone respond. “Tch.”

No, no you didn't hear that. You can’t be feeling phantom touches and be hearing things, you had to pick a lane for your crazy. You rolled your eyes at how silly you were being as you dragged yourself into the bathroom. All you wanted was a shower and to get to bed. Tonight had been surprisingly taxing. As you undressed, you couldn’t stop feeling overly self conscious of your body. As if a pair of eyes were burning into your very soul, seeing you both inside and out and leaving you with no secrets left. Like someone was looking inside your heart to see your desires, your hopes and dreams. You hurried into the tub.

The warm shower cascaded over your cold body, making your skin erupt in goosebumps. You sighed as the cleansing waters washed away your sins from the night, and finally put your mind at ease. For all of about two seconds. Then your imagination started to wander. What chemical was in those essential oils to make them turn such a deep blue? Was such a color even possible for fire? It was so dark. You closed your eyes as you followed your train of thought. What did all that Latin mean? And how did your friends, who had never spoken the language a day in their life mind you, nail the pronunciation and reading of it on the first try? Without so much as a practice read or example no less.

"You think so much. It's kinda cute." That voice was definitely in your mind- but it wasn't your own. Your eyes suddenly shot open as you jerked your head around the bathroom, trying to see who could have said that- despite knowing you would find no one. Steam was all that greeted you. Jesus fuck, what was in those drinks to be making you feel this way? You quickly finished your shower and got out.

You felt it again before you could grab your towel. Two hands, playing with your chest. You almost screamed, frustration mounting in yourself. Then you caught a glimpse of the mirror. Temporarily, you didn’t feel the hands on you anymore. You didn’t feel anything as your brain tried to process the impossibility of what it was seeing. And then you felt everything.

Visible through the slight fog in the mirror, and only the mirror, were two hands- large and pale, long nails (claws?) tipped in pink and black- groping your breasts. You watched in awe and horror as the two hands kneaded the flesh of your chest, rolling their (it's?) thumbs over your hardening nipples. You watched as one of the disembodied appendages left your breast and moved lower. Moved to touch you in a place you hadn't been touched yet tonight. The hand vanished from the view of the glass, and seconds later you felt a spark of pleasure as (what you assumed to be) a finger flicked your clit.

Suddenly, your brain worked again, and you screamed as you tumbled away from the mirror, nearly tumbling over and back into the bathtub in your panic. You caught yourself just in time though, breathing heavy as you leaned against the wall of your shower. You heard that fucking voice again, this time it had the audacity to laugh.

"Such a tease." It mused. You needed to get out of here. You screamed as you ran out of the bathroom, and down the short hall to your bedroom. You crashed into the room, unsure why you ran here other than the fact that you always felt safe in this space. You tried to calm yourself but found it impossible. You went to sit on your bed, but- you stopped in your tracks as you caught a glimpse of the full length mirror facing your mattress. You blinked as you stared at it, your confusion being replaced only by more bodily feelings as you watched the impossible scene unfold in the glass.

You watched as a figure pushed his hips into yours, fucking you into your mattress. Your fucked out face contorting in pleasure as you moaned out helplessly, eyes glazing over in a daze. The figure wrapped his large hand around your throat, and you couldn’t help but notice the way the pink and black claws dug into your skin.

And you felt all of it. You could feel the shadow on top of you, feel its hand tighten around your throat. And you felt him in between your legs, heavy and thick, dragging out of your heat at an agonizing pace. You felt every deliberate thrust into the sweet spot that laid inside you, making you feel delirious with pleasure. Mirror you moaned a name you didn’t quite catch and clawed the shadows biceps. You felt his skin under your nails as another wave of arousal overtook you.

Your knees felt weak with desire and you found it suddenly hard to stand. You made eye contact with yourself in the glass, and stumbled backwards as your knees suddenly gave out. You didn’t hit the ground, though, a part of you wished you did. Instead, you landed against a wall of muscle. Strong arms encircled you, and you felt a low chuckle reverberate from the chest you were braced against.

“You’re clumsy, aren’t you Honey?” Yep, that was definitely the voice you heard in the bathroom. You scrambled away from the arms in a sudden burst of energy, and spun around to finally get a good look at the entity that had been haunting you all night.

He was tall, 7 feet at least, with ghost white hair and glowing- unnaturally vibrant- sapphire eyes. He was a pale man, clad in leather pants and corset adorned with pink chains. Giant bat wings framed him, and two black devil tails- tipped with sharp pink hearts- flicked excitedly behind him. He flashed a smirk, showing off the long fangs he hid behind perfectly pink lips.

“Like what you feel, Sweetheart?” He asked, musical voice dripping with smug condescension.

“Who are you?” You asked as you tried to steady your heart. He raised an eyebrow at you.

“Shouldn’t you know? You called out to me.” He reminded you gently. Oh fuck.

“You’re the fucking WikiHow demon?!” You scoffed with a humorless laugh, “Are you fucking kidding me?! What self respecting demon puts their summoning ritual on fucking WikiHow?!?!” You lashed out in frustration, to hide from the fear. You didn’t sell your soul to this…being, did you? He chuckled at your sudden outburst, as if he was watching a cat try and escape a laundry basket it trapped itself in.

“What self respecting human performs a ritual found on WikiHow?” He threw that right back at you.

“That can’t be working out well for you.” it wasn’t quite what you meant to say. Your body felt like it was on fire with desire right now, and more than anything you wanted to rip him out of those leather pants. You’d be forgiven for not being the most articulate person right now. You got your point across, that’s what mattered.

“Why can’t it be?” He asked with a tilt of his head, “It’s worked out great for me so far. I get hundreds of thousands of curious summoners, and I get to respond to the ones I find interesting. Honestly, I think it was pretty genius.” He grinned. It was true. He ate way more now than he ever did when his summoning rituals were locked behind ancient, dusty tomes, long since forgotten to time. You huffed at him and shook your head.

“I still don’t know your name.” Why did that matter to you so much? Maybe it was because you wanted to know the name of the demon that had damned you. Maybe you wanted to know what name you’d be screaming later. Who knows. He smiled wide and with a flourish bowed before you, wings spreading out behind him and tails swirling in front of him.

“Satoru Gojo,” He said, “At your service.” With that, he straightened back up.

“Satoru Gojo, huh?” You scoffed, Trying to focus on your rage to distract yourself from the pleasure pooling inside of you. “So you’re the pervert that’s been groping me all night?”

“Strong way to put it, but yes.” He shrugged, nonchalant grin never leaving his face, “Who could blame me? Have you seen yourself? I couldn’t keep my hands off you even if I wanted to.” you ignored him.

“You’re a fucking creep!” You accused, “I didn’t consent to-”

“Oh you didn’t?” He cut you off with a scoff. “Oh, my mistake. See, I was under the impression that you had willingly entered the star to be sacrificed into my power, and willingly- if not even enthusiastically- participated in the ritual to bind yourself to me.”

Oh yeah. You did do that, huh? Your face said everything, and his smirk (somehow) got even more smug. “That’s what I thought. You see Sweets, in my world, you’ve already consented to everything I have planned for you.” He walked past you to sit on your bed, and you turned to not take your eyes off him.

“All of this,” he gestured widely with his hands, “Is really just in respect to your human culture. That, and everything tastes better when it’s given willingly.” he laughed.

"And what if I don't give it willingly?" You asked, crossing your arms.

"You will." He said that so matter-of-factly that it made your stomach burn. He said it as if he was telling you the time or reading off instructions. As if it was just an objective, unavoidable, fact.

"And what makes you so sure of that Lover Boy?" You scoffed, trying to hide the fact you were unnerved.

"Because I can smell your arousal from here,” He smiled, flashing those dangerous fangs again, “and you’ve been rubbing your delicious thighs together this entire conversation, and you refuse to look me in the eye cause you know the moment you do, all of this” he gestured at you with a single hand, “edgy mean girl attitude will vanish.” he said as he crossed his legs and held his knee with both hands. “You want me. You want me so bad, you’re struggling to think of anything else. It’s only a matter of time until you give into that carnal desire.”

You hated how accurately he read you. You wrapped your arms around yourself, trying to guard your body from his invasive gaze. You hated the fact that you could feel your hips buck against his illusions. And that as good as they felt, they just weren’t enough. Your cunt was clenching around nothing and your skin burned for his touch. You could feel your resolve dissolving, fear giving way to lust.

“Will it hurt?”

“Not unless you want it to.”

“I’m not talking about sex dipshit,” You groaned, “I’m talking about losing up my soul.” For the first time this entire encounter, he looked confused.

“I-I’m sorry, what?” He asked.

“My soul,” You said, feeling his confusion rub off on you, “You’re an incubus, right? Isn’t that like…your thing?”

“No?” His confusion slowly transformed into chuckling as it finally dawned on him what the hold up was. “Oh sugar, is that why you’re fighting this so hard? You think I want your soul? Baby, you gotta stop watching so many movies. Mortal souls are absolutely worthless. Mortal pleasure on the other hand, now. That’s where the money lies.” You weren’t sure if that thought should have comforted you- or scared you more.

But before you could get too lost in your head, he uncrossed his legs and leaned back on the bed. His tight pants left next to nothing to the imagination, and you bit your lower lip so hard you were sure it bled.

"Come here Sweets." He said, opening his arms out to you. Your body acted on its own accord, walking over to him without any say from you. Before you knew it, you were straddling his lap. He placed his hands on your side, rubbing your hips and smiling at the way they bucked against him. "Look at you. Frustrated to tears and fighting, what, six months of tension? Don't do that to yourself Sugar. I can help you. You just have to let me."

You looked down. Some primal part of your brain knew this was a bad idea. This man(?) Was a predator who made no attempt to hide that fact about himself. You knew you should run.

And yet that same primal part of your brain wanted him all the more for that exact reason. "Let me take care of you." Gojo requested, running his hand up your bare back to tangle his fingers in the hair at the base of your neck. You felt yourself break.

"Okay…" you finally said, "Help me." He didn't need to be told twice. In a blink his lips were on yours, the taste of cherry and peaches invading your senses. His tongue slid past your teeth to tangle with yours, and for the first time you got a sense of just how long the muscle really was. The hand tangled in your hair gave a sharp tug, making you moan against his mouth. You could feel the already impressive tent in his pants get bigger.

Nervousness mixed with excitement as he flipped you over, pressing your back into your soft mattress. His head moved to kiss dark bruises into your neck, making sure to let his fangs nip the thin skin there. A reminder of what you were dealing with. He kissed down your body, finally landing at the place you needed him the most. He threw your leg over his shoulder, and pressed his face against your sticky cunt.

You let out a truly embarrassing moan as you were finally graced with the relief your body had been begging for. You whined as you felt him pressed his unnaturally long tongue into your weeping cunt, reaching places you didn’t know possible and stretching you in a deliciously devious way. He licked at your g-spot, sending shock waves of pleasure straight to your core and throughout the rest of your body.

His expert fingers worked at your clit as he lapped as your cunt. Your body reacted to him in ways it had never reacted before, overly sensitive and needy. Your hands reached down to tangle into his moon-pale hair, pulling on the soft tresses found there. Pulling him even closer and deeper into you. His long, thick tongue pushed in and out of your weeping cunt, and if you felt this fucked out from just his tongue, you were almost scared to think about what his cock would feel like. You saw his wings flutter in delight as you pulled at his hair again, and the coil inside of you got tighter.

Pleasure pulsed through your body, reaching every part of you and making your back arch off of the bed. You could feel your body buzzing with anticipation as your climax approached at breakneck speeds. You had felt nothing like this before, nothing had made you feel so euphoric. No boyfriend had ever even come close, and no toy could ever compare. Your head was exploding with heavy desire as your climax overtook you, shattering your world and wrecking your body with tremors.

You watched as he rose up from your legs, his heavy lidded eyes clouded with lust, a satisfied, lopsided grin on his face. "You taste even sweeter than I imagined." He complimented.

"Thanks, I eat a lot of pineapple." You muttered, still coming down from your earth shattering high, still trying to regain your bearings. He chuckled softly, leaning over you. Your face turned red as you realized your slick was still glistening in his lips and chin in the moonlight.

"I can tell." He winked, "Can you?" Before you could properly process his words, his hands were on the side of your face and pulling you into another heated kiss. You tasted yourself on his lips, and felt his nails press red crescents into the side of your head. He was right, there was a sweetness there, and you felt a sense of pride swell inside you as you realized that.

Your hands found the back of his head, tangling into his hair and pulling him even further into the kiss. Your recuperation made him feral, and his hands went from the side of your face to your hips, grabbing you in a bruising grip and pulling your body closer to him. His touch set a fire inside of you, making your heart work over time as your hands clumsily tried to pull him closer. You found the joint connecting his wings to his back and grabbed into them for dear life, sending a shudder through his entire body. He looked at you with dark, blown out eyes.

“I’m going to fucking devour you.” He growled lowly at you. It sent a lighting bolt straight to your cunt. He pulled away, revealing that the leather corset and pants were finally gone. You felt your throat dry as you took in the sight of him. His body seemed to glow softly in the moonlight, lean and beautiful, his wings behind his frame making him look particularly ethereal. Your eyes trailed down and you choked back a moan.

You would never say this out loud, or about any mortal man for that matter, but…that mother fucker had a pretty cock. Long, with prominent veins and a baby pink tip. It stood proud against his stomach, already dripping with need, and all for you.

“You look like an angel…” You whispered without even thinking. He chuckled, showing off his fangs to remind you that looks could be deceiving.

“Is that what you want me to be?” He asked with a hum, grabbing your beautiful hips and positioning them against his, “I can be that for you. I can have you screaming out for god.” He shoved himself into you in one unforgiving go, sending a shock through your body as you moaned expletives, trying to adjust to the sudden intruder. “I can’t promise he’ll hear you though.” Gojo chuckled, “You’d be better off screaming for me.”

You moaned his name softly as you gripped onto his biceps, a scene that felt very familiar to you for some reason. He dragged himself out before pushing back in, perfectly gracing you G-spot with expert precision. He moaned as he did, trying to keep from losing control and fucking you like an animal. Your cunt was warm, and so welcoming. Pulling him in deeper and begging him for more. And who was he to deny you what you so desperately and clearly needed?

You felt his tails wrap around your knees and spread you wider for him, giving him more room to work. He adjusted your position under him, letting him get deeper inside of you than any man had ever been before. He filled you to the brim, overflowing your senses with euphoria as he made sure you felt every inch of him pounding into you.

“Fuck, ‘Toru!” You moaned as he overtook you. Every thrust sent a new wave of electrical fire through your body, leaving you completely at his mercy as your second high approached. The scene was sinful, even for Satoru. The soft nickname made his heart ache (which, weird not gonna unpack that) and the scene before him made his dick swell.

Your hair was messy from all of the pulling, and your eyes were fucked out and foggy. Your kiss swollen lips were red and parted, panting his name so beautifully. Your chest bounced with every push of his hips, and you took him so perfectly, it was like you were made to be his cock-sleeve. It was a scene he didn’t want to share with anybody else.

He leaned down closer to you, using his wings to shield your sin from the rest of the world. For the first time in his existence, he felt possessive. He didn’t want anyone else to see you like this, so pretty and needy. It was a sight only for him. The close intimacy overwhelmed you as his hand came to wrap around your throat, applying just enough pressure to break you.

Your second climax of the night hit you like a hurricane, a wall of ecstasy crashing into you and sweeping you up in the whirlwind of mind numbing pleasure. You felt like you were on top of the world as it coursed through you in pulsating waves, his refusal to slow down for even a second putting even more power behind them.

You didn’t even realize you were crying until you felt his tongue lick up your cheek, collecting the salty tears. “Look at my little cry baby,” He teased, “tearing up while falling apart around my cock. Do you even know what you’re fucking doing to me?” He growled as he dug his fangs into your neck hard enough to draw blood.

You let out a broken sob as his teeth dug into your skin, the pain mixing with the pleasure and making you clench around him. Your hands found where his wings attached to his back again, and grabbed onto them for dear life as you tried to ride out your intense high. The feeling of your nails in his wings sent him over the edge. He moaned your name pathetically as his tip kissed your cervix and he came deep inside of you. You felt the warmth of his climax mellow out and flow through you as he rode you through both of your highs, only stopping when both of your bodies forced you too.

He was breathing hard when he finally pulled out, collapsing on your bed next to you. He took a second to catch his breath, before pulling you into his arms and wrapping his wings around the both of you- not bothering with a blanket. You felt warm and safe inside of his wings, as if none of your problems or the evils of the real world could get to you as long as you were here.

“So…” You finally asked, breaking the silence, “What happens now?”

“What do you mean?” He asked, gingerly licking away the blood that trickled down your neck.

“Do I die? Do you leave? What comes next?” You asked, confused as to how to further explain. Your confusion turned into frustration as he laughed.

“Do I leave?” He chuckled, “Honey, did you not read the article? You summoned an incubus boyfriend. Good luck getting rid of me.”

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sunshine-on-my-mind · 2 years

Text

The Mobster’s Wife

pairing: Mob!Lloyd Hansen x Plus size reader

a/n: hey cuties, this is my first time writing a Mob AU so I really hope you all like it. Please read the warnings before moving forward.

warnings: 18+ Minors Dni Mob AU, mentions of being a mobster and implied themes, no graphic details, angst, arranged marriage, crying, reader has body insecurities, implied body shaming (not from Lloyd), cooking and eating mentioned, doubts of infidelity (but nothing really), overthinking, fluff, soft moments, kissing, mention of sex but nothing happens, flirting. Let me know if I missed anything.

words: 5.3k

Comments and Reblogs are appreciated

-> Next Chapter ; Drabbles ; Asks

Some say you are happiest on the day you become a bride.

In your case, you didn’t even know what to feel. A cloud of confusion wrapped you up when you walked down the aisle. All eyes on you, judging, measuring and probably calculating the outcome of this wedding.

Your eyes landed on the man you were destined to call your husband. His jaw sharp, beautiful blue eyes that had a sense of dominance in them, plump pink lips making a straight line, making it hard to read what might be going in his mind. But the feature that stood out most on his conventionally beautiful face, was a neatly trimmed moustache.

Everything was mechanical after that, the vows, the rings, the kiss, everything. Cheers and claps brought you out of the trance and it hit you suddenly that you were indeed married at that point. You were Mrs. Hansen.

Dinner involved loud toasts and speeches, mainly with the intention of impressing your husband. Everyone wanted to be in his good books, and why wouldn’t they? Lloyd Hansen was one of the most powerful and influential mobsters of the city. And the man lived up to his image.

Even though everything was so loud around you, you didn’t miss the absolute silence that surrounded your husband and you. And that silence continued when you found yourself in front of your new house, a massive one.

Being the daughter of a mobster, you were not unfamiliar with luxury and riches, sure you tried to stay away from all of it as much as possible because you didn’t want to be a part of the mobster life, in fact you wanted to get out of the city, the country if it was possible and live an independent life, away from it all.

But life had other plans, or rather your family. You hardly knew the man you got married to. His house spoke a lot about him, you realised as you walked inside his grand home. Dark hues all around, had a gorgeous glow, minimalistic and fashionable, a lot like the man who was walking beside you. The silence still there.

It was only broken when his men entered, they exchanged a few words, your focus on taking in the interiors of your new home.

When they left, your husband turned towards you, as if finally seeing you. The more his sharp gaze took you in, the more insecure you felt about yourself. You wrapped your hands around your upper body and looked down, but his gaze didn’t leave you yet. You felt heat rushing to your cheeks. The heat was gone in a moment as a cold voice reached your ears.

“Your room is upstairs, you can decorate it however you want to.” Lloyd spoke, his first words to you “My room is downstairs and I like my privacy. I don’t expect much from you but there are certain rules you must follow. There are areas in this house which are off limits. The rest you are free to explore unless I tell you not to, in case I have some important meeting here. Don’t go out of the house without informing me. I’ll arrange a car for you.”

There was complete lack of emotions behind his voice as he went on with the rules.

“I expect you the follow the rules, another thing I expect from you, but won’t demand, is for you to cook for me.” And with that Lloyd left you behind making his way upstairs. When he saw you weren’t following him, he stood in his place and sighed.

“Do I have to invite you? I’m showing you your room, hurry up I don’t have all the time in the world.” Lloyd didn’t try to hide his irritation.

So that was how your married life was supposed to be. Sure it was an arranged marriage, you weren’t expecting love. And you knew from what you had heard about Lloyd that he wasn’t exactly a soft man. You wondered what this marriage had in store for you, as you went up the stairs.

With a huff, Lloyd opened the door of your room. You both went inside. A big but dull room, not like the rest of the house you saw. Perhaps a guest room?

“This will be your room from now on. No one will disturb you here. If you want to buy something for your room, or something for yourself go ahead. here keep this card.” Lloyd gave you a credit card. You were still in a haze about everything. Was this how mob marriages were supposed to be?

Before the wedding one of your main concerns was to share a room and a bed with a stranger. At least that won’t be a problem. But you didn’t feel relieved at all, a pit of doubt formed in your stomach. Was this all happening because of your appearance? He must had known how you looked before agreeing to the marriage right? Or maybe you were overthinking and this was just how most of these marriages were. Mobsters had the image of being with many women. Perhaps Lloyd was one of them.

All you could do was nod to let your husband know you had understood everything. With that Lloyd left your room. As the door shut, a little harshly maybe, all the negative thoughts came rushing to you, and it didn’t help when you ventured in front of the mirror and saw yourself in your wedding dress. Alone, on your wedding night.

You used to have some insecurities about your body but you had tried your best to overcome them and you were definitely in a much better place. That was before you were left alone in that big room, on your wedding night.

It was difficult to explain, because not that you were eager to be sleeping with a stranger, a mobster, the worst ideas about what he might do to you and your body had already flashed in front of your eyes many times before the wedding. Mob families were full of misogyny, hence there was an unspoken, actually sometimes directly spoken rule of pleasing the husbands, and always doing what they said. You were nervous and scared about your wedding night, but even with those multiple thoughts, being left alone somehow didn’t cross your mind. Did Lloyd leave because he didn’t like the way you looked? Did he leave because he wasn’t at all attracted to you?

Lloyd didn’t even talk to you properly, or ask anything about you. Just informed you what he wanted to and left. You hardly knew him but you sure wanted to learn more about the man you were supposed to spend your life with, unfortunately or fortunately, that didn’t seem to be the case with Lloyd.

Your luggage was already there in your room and you changed into something comfortable. The bed was big, and soft. You lied down and covered up yourself with a blanket. Sleep sleep sleep sleep. Tried your best to fall in slumber. And you did, eventually after some turning and tossing.

The next morning you woke up and got ready for the day. You made your way down towards the kitchen. All it took was a little exploring, and you found some ingredients and utensils to make a simple breakfast. You didn’t know what Lloyd liked so you decided to stick to classics. Toast, eggs, bacon and a fresh pot of coffee.

Soon you could hear footsteps towards the kitchen, and the confidence the footsteps had, made it clear, it was none other than the owner of the house. You looked at him, even in the morning he was well dressed, hair neatly gelled back.

“Morning” you wished Lloyd and in return got a nod. “I’ve made breakfast, didn’t know what you like-” you couldn’t finish before Lloyd made his way towards the dining table, and started reading a newspaper. Clearly not interested in listening to whatever you had to say.

You took a deep breath, and tried to deny the little pang you felt in your chest. Serving the breakfast on a plate, and pouring coffee in a cup, you took it to the table and placed it in front of your husband. His face was still behind the newspaper.

“I hope you like the food.” And finally the newspaper was out of the way and Lloyd looked straight into your eyes. His piercing gaze had quite an effect on you. No further words were exchanged.

Lloyd started eating and you joined him on the table with your food and coffee. You wanted to start a conversation but didn’t know how. Lloyd’s focus was on the food, his phone chimed and his focus shifted towards his phone. You gave up and started eating.

He was soon done eating and with a quick ‘thank you’ he left you alone. Again.

And that became your routine for the next few days. You were alone most of the time, explored the house, the parts you were allowed to see of course, got acquainted with it. There was a Television in your room and you decided to binge watch something, to keep yourself distracted from other things.

The only time you weren’t alone was during breakfast and sometimes dinner, Lloyd generally accompanied you. He had informed you he was usually out during the day so no need to prepare lunch for him and that sometimes he would come home late so not to wait for him. You always prepared dinner for him though, when he was late you kept it in the fridge. Left a note there, to let him know.

One night, when Lloyd was late again, you decided to wait up. When he arrived it was quite late. You were sitting at the dining table, reading a book to stay up.

“What are you doing?” Lloyd’s deep voice made his presence known. You were quite invested in the book so you didn’t hear his footsteps.

“I’m- I was waiting for you to come home” Lloyd sighed and ran his fingers through his now slightly disheveled hair. “How was your day?” You asked bravely, hoping to get some response from him. Anything.

“I told you, you don’t have to stay up for me. You should have gone to bed.”

“I wanted to. I wanted to check on you.”

“You don’t have to.” Lloyd sighed again. “And to answer your question, I’m alive aren’t I? So you can get from that how my day was.” You gulped and looked down.

“I’ve made dinner.” You almost whispered.

“Yeah I can heat it and have it on my own, you don’t have to stay. You can go sleep.” Only if he understood that you wanted to stay.

Or maybe he did understand that, and that was why he wanted you to leave. Maybe he didn’t want to spend time with you. Not like Lloyd had not done or said anything to make you fee otherwise. The time you spent together felt obligatory or just to maintain decency. You wished him a good night and went back to your room.

There wasn’t much change in the following few weeks, except you stopped trying to make conversation with your husband. You did what you were supposed to and kept to yourself.

“I have a party to attend today” Lloyd spoke while you two were having breakfast. Why was he informing you suddenly? He hardly ever told you his plans for the day. Was he- was he inviting you to go with him? You got lost in your thoughts and Lloyd tried to figure what you might be thinking.

“You’re invited as well but you don’t have to go, I’m don’t think you’ll like the company.” Oh, it wasn’t an invitation. You nodded. Of course Lloyd didn’t want you there. Why would he? He would probably be embarrassed if he was seen with you. The man was quite attractive, gorgeous beautiful ladies were desperate for him. God they’d probably lick his wounds if he just spared them a glance. There was no way he would want to be seen with you.

You let out an ‘okay’ and focused on eating. Lloyd could sense something going on in your head but he didn’t know you enough and shouldn’t assume anything. As usual he was finished eating before you and he left the table with his usual ‘thank you’.

Sleep felt like a distant thought that night. Your mind filled with thoughts of Lloyd and what he might be doing in the party. Did he have a mistress, or many? Was that another reason he didn’t want you at the party, would she be there?

You desperately tried to remove those thoughts from your mind and think about positive things, but you didn’t find any. Eventually your mind got tired of thinking and let you sleep.

The next morning you had breakfast alone. No sign of Lloyd. Later you got a call from him.

“I’ll come home early today, I have a meeting in the evening. I’ll have some people over. And I don’t want you to come down tonight when the meeting takes place, understood? Stay in your room.” And as soon as he was done speaking he hung up the phone.

The rest of the day went by quickly and soon it was evening. You had already prepared dinner so that you won’t have to go down later. Unfortunately you didn’t bring up any of that food to your room.

It was getting late and you were getting hungry. Maybe if you quickly grabbed some food it won’t be a problem. Besides, the meeting was taking place in the office, which was far away from the kitchen.

You silently went down and opened the door of the fridge, but before you could do anything, an angry, very angry Lloyd appeared behind you.

“Do you not know how to follow simple instructions?”

You kept quiet, looked away.

“Answer me. I don’t like repeating myself.”

“I’m sorry I just-“

“You’re sorry? What the fuck am I supposed to do with that? I told you not to come down. It was a simple and clear instruction. Are you that dumb?”

And the angrier his tone got, the more you lost control of your emotions.

“I-“ You looked at him with teary eyes.

“Are you fucking crying right now? Is that supposed make me feel bad when you’re the one who didn’t follow instructions? You know what, I’m done talking to you. Go up to your room and cry all you want there. Just not in front of me. I have a meeting to get back to. I don’t have time-“ The tables turned, and it was Lloyd who couldn’t finish his sentence this time. You ran past him. Went up to your room as quickly you could and shut the door.

Lloyd sighed and went back to his meeting. You on the other hand cried your heart out. Everything piled up together and you couldn’t hold it in any longer. In that moment you truly realised how alone you were. You had no one, and your husband hated you.

When Lloyd’s meeting got over, he went to the kitchen. As soon as he opened the door of the fridge to get his dinner, he realised there was another container of food, resembling the one kept for him.

Oh fuck. You must had come down to get your dinner. Lloyd closed the fridge and made his way up to your bedroom. He wasn’t sure what he would do or say, but his feet were moving on their own towards your room, before his mind could process much.

As he stood outside your room, he could hear your cries. Lloyd didn’t feel much for people, but something about you was breaking all his walls and he was nervous about it. He barely knew you. Lloyd didn’t trust people easily. That didn’t mean it didn’t affect him at all to see you cry. To hurt you unintentionally. He was just trying to protect you from any kind of possible danger.

Lloyd realised that damage was already done and it would be better to give you space. That was how your husband always tried to make you feel comfortable, by giving you space. If he only knew it was having the exact opposite effect.

The next day you didn’t show up for breakfast. Lloyd found the kitchen empty as well as the dining table. He realised he had royally fucked up. Or maybe you were simply late? But you were never late.

Lloyd decided to wait for you. His day was comparatively less packed. An hour turned into two. Still there was no sign of you. With a deep sigh. Lloyd made his way up to your bedroom. He knocked on your door.

You woke up early in the morning after crying yourself to sleep last night. But you didn’t feel like leaving your room. You were still wrapped up in your blanket when you heard the knock on the door. Maybe Lloyd was angry because you didn’t make breakfast, but to be fair you didn’t really care about it at that moment. Dragging your feet towards the door, you opened it.

Your eyes were puffy due to crying. But you made sure not to drop a single drop of tear in front of your husband. No words came out of you, you didn’t have anything to say to be fair.

“You should get something to eat.” Lloyd managed to speak out, his voice had no anger. A little concern maybe but you were too upset to notice.

“I don’t feel like eating”

“But you-“ Lloyd cleared his throat “you haven’t eaten anything since yesterday” A humourless chuckle left your mouth.

“That doesn’t concern you does it? It’s not like you care.”

“Doesn’t matter if I care or not” Lloyd replied.

“You don’t care, just admit you don’t. Admit that you are embarrassed by me and that’s why you didn’t want anyone to see me. That’s why you were so adamant about me not going down wasn’t it? You are ashamed of me.” Your voice was slowly getting louder.

“You think I asked you to stay in your room because I’m ashamed of you? The people who were attending the meeting were dangerous people, bad people, I wanted you to stay here so that you were safe. I was trying to protect you.”

“Really? Everyone is afraid of you, what possibly could those people have done?”

“Well I’m not going to justify my decisions. It’s my responsibility to protect you and that’s what I was doing.”

“Fine, even if that was the case yesterday, what about the day before, when you didn’t want me to go to that party, huh? You even said I was invited, still didn’t take me with you, why? I’ll tell you, it’s because you are ashamed of me.”

“The only reason I didn’t take you with me is because I have heard you don’t like the mob world. I thought this marriage is already a burden for you and that I shouldn’t trouble you more by making you attend these parties.” Lloyd spoke loudly but only to make his point. But he wasn’t angry at you, he was angry at himself for making you feel that he might be ashamed of you. That wasn’t the case at all. Lloyd knew this marriage was just a deal, between two Mob families. Of course it wasn’t an ideal marriage, and whatever he had heard about you, from his different sources, was that you didn’t want to belong in this world of violence, but unfortunately you got married into it. So giving you space felt like he was doing you a favour.

Lloyd wasn’t always proud of everything he did but he knew it was necessary. That made him believe the less you knew about him, the less you would dislike him. He didn’t want his wife to dislike him, or worse, be scared of him. Hence pushing you away seemed like the only reasonable thing to do.

But in that moment, Lloyd realised keeping you at distance had a reverse effect than what he had intended.

“I’m not ashamed of you. I didn’t realise you felt like that.” You kept quiet, still looking away “Hey look at me.” And you did.

“There is actually another party tonight, I wasn’t gonna go anyway, but if you want to, we can both go together.” You weren’t really in the mood to attend a party, but if it was just crumbs you were gonna get as hopes of spending time with your husband, then you were gonna take them.

“Alright. We can go together.” Came your reply, and Lloyd gave you a nod.

“Let’s have breakfast now come on.”

“You haven’t had breakfast yet?” You asked and he shook his head.

“What do you wanna eat?“ You asked.

“I was thinking about cooking today. Do you like pesto eggs?”

For the first time in your married life, you didn’t feel that distant to your husband. It wasn’t like you both talked a lot, hardly in fact, still it felt like the air around you was a little more relaxed than usual.

The pesto eggs Lloyd made were truly very delicious.

“This is so good.” You commented without looking up from your plate. Lloyd smiled.

Your husband had some work to do, he went to complete them in his home office, while you decided to do something about your current cried out appearance. You were nervous about what to wear for the party.

Finally settled on a long black dress that wasn’t too tight, or too loose, just the perfect fit, most importantly one that looked pretty good, and made you feel comfortable.

When Lloyd saw you in that dress it was very hard for him to not keep staring at you. You always looked so cute but tonight, wow.

“You look nice.” You weren’t used to many compliments. And thus you didn’t really know how to respond to them and decided to stick with the classic response, ‘thank you’

“You look nice too.” It was true, actually Lloyd always looked so handsome. You would be lying if you said you haven’t stared at him from time to time when he wasn’t looking.

The car ride to the party was mostly silent. Both of you stole glances when you thought the other wasn’t looking. One time you caught Lloyd looking at you and you couldn’t help but feel shy under his gaze. Before getting out of the car Lloyd finally broke the silence.

“As I had said earlier, these people might not be the best company for you, but since we are here, let’s try to have a good time. But if something happens, if you feel uncomfortable or even boring, just let me know and we’ll leave. Alright?” You nodded as a smile appeared on your face. Maybe he did care about you.

The party was truly nothing you had ever seen or experienced. Mobsters, rich businessmen, influential people everywhere, not to forget the gorgeous women adding to the grandeur of the party. And the air carried a distinct smell of alcohol mixed with hints of danger.

It was all kind of overwhelming, and something about the party wasn’t sitting right with you, maybe simply because it was all new to you, and also because Lloyd rightly said those people weren’t definitely your ideal company.

Lloyd introduced you to some people before excusing himself when he was called by others. You tried roaming around but the way most people looked you up and down, scanning, wondering how you were chosen as the lucky one to be Lloyd Hansen’s wife made you feel uneasy.

You tried to ignore the whispers and poorly covered laughs, you even heard things like ‘her father must be very influential and rich if Lloyd married someone like her’ and ‘of course this marriage is nothing but a deal, look at them, they don’t fit together’

Their words finally got to you when your eyes began to moisten. You made your way towards the bar, but there were too many people present. Who were you kidding when you thought you can belong in this world? Most of those people were either too heartless, too misogynistic or too full of themselves. Definitely not your type of crowd. Those people only understood money and power.

Your eyes automatically started scanning for Lloyd. You didn’t have to look much, as the man appeared right beside you.

“What’s wrong?” His question made you look away to wipe off any sign of tears, his words still fresh in your mind which had made you decide never to cry in front of him.

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine. Did someone say anything to you?” His voice a mixture of concern and anger, anger which you could feel wasn’t directed towards you.

You shook your head. Technically it wasn’t a lie, no one said anything directly to you. Lloyd didn’t push you more on that topic. The way you avoided his eyes and fidgeted with your hands made it quite evident that no matter what happened, you didn’t feel comfortable in that atmosphere.

“We’re leaving, come on. This party is too boring anyway.”

The ride back home was almost nerve wracking. Would Lloyd be angry at you? He did say you probably won’t like the party but you still wanted to go. And now you’re leaving quite early. Although Lloyd hadn’t shown any signs of anger towards you, the slight tick in his jaw made you feel worried.

As soon as you were home, you decided it’s best to get to the point and apologise before things could go wrong any further.

“I’m sorry.” Your random apology caught Lloyd off guard.

“Huh? What are you apologising for?” His question made you question yourself. Exactly, why were you? Except the part that you didn’t take Lloyd’s suggestion and still went to the party, you didn’t exactly do anything wrong, did you?

“I- I don’t know. I’m sorry to disappoint you I guess.”

“You didn’t disappoint me.” Lloyd took a deep breath. “Can I ask you something, answer me honestly, why did you want to go to that party? It was clear you didn’t feel comfortable there, and that those assholes aren’t exactly your ideal type of people. You have grown up in a mob family, I’m sure you know how those people can get, and I’m also sure you are not like them. So why?” You gulped. Lloyd definitely knew more about you than you expected, or he very quickly had understood a lot about you.

“I get so alone in the house. I didn’t want to feel so lonely, I wanted to spend time with you.” You answered without beating around the bush. Not that it didn’t make you extremely nervous to say those words. A smile, no a smirk appeared on Lloyd’s face.

“Hmm so my pretty wife wanted attention from me? If that was the case you could have just asked for it” Lloyd came closer to you with each word. But then the playfulness of his tone shifted to something more caring “Did I actually make you feel so alone?” You nodded

“Truth be told, I felt giving you space was what you needed. I know it’s not easy giving up your life and start living with a stranger, that to with a mobster. It felt like the less you know about me the better it would be. But now, I guess it wasn’t such a good idea.” Lloyd confessed and gently held your hand. “I’ll try to do better from now on.”

“Lloyd, you know, I thought you kept your distance from me because of the way I look, many people have implied I’m not beautiful before, so I got used to it. And when you didn’t interact much with me, even though I tried, I thought that was the case.“

“Who told you you’re not beautiful? Did someone insult you? Give me names, you know I can-“ Your chuckle stopped him mid-speech. You couldn’t help it, you liked the way he suddenly got all protective over you.

“Listen, you are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen and you have the most beautiful heart. Far too beautiful for an asshole like me.”

In that moment, he didn’t feel like Mobster Lloyd, but just your husband.

“Now coming back to the part where you wanted my attention,” Lloyd teased and you couldn’t help they way you felt warm. Your husband had a smirk on his face as he took in your form.

“How about you go get changed and come to my room?” A soft gasp escaped your lips on hearing that. Lloyd chuckled.

“Don’t worry I’m just inviting you to my room, not asking to have sex with you,” he paused and leaned closer to your ear “Unless you want to.” Shivers ran down your body, because of the proximity and his words. Involuntarily you bit your lip and tried to form a reply.

“No, um- not yet. I don’t even know you properly.”

“Well you don’t need to know someone to have sex with them wifey, hope you know that, hm?” Did the man know what he was doing to you? He definitely did, his cocky attitude and smirk made it clear.

“I know that, but you’re not just someone are you? You’re my husband, and I want to know you first.”

“You’re a smart girl, wifey. I like that.” A genuine smile graced Lloyd’s face “Alright then, freshen up and come to my room.” You nodded and quickly went to your room to get changed.

As you stood in front of Lloyd’s bedroom, you felt excited but also nervous, but before you could ponder much, Lloyd came out.

“Come on in” your husband held the door open for you. Lloyd’s room was not only big but matched his personality perfectly. “You look cute.” You weren’t sure what to wear so you decided to go with some comfy shorts and T-shirt.

“Thank you.” Lloyd motioned at the bed for you to get in.

“Make yourself comfortable.” You sat down on the bed while Lloyd lied down beside you.

“Are you planning to sleep like that?” he asked you with a chuckle. Well he had a point, so eventually you lied down beside him.

It all felt so foreign, and so weird to be sharing a bed with your husband more than a month later after getting married. You were feeling overwhelmed, happy and sad at the same time.

“What’s going on in that pretty head of yours? Don’t think too much okay? Let’s focus on this moment.” Lloyd tried to be as sweet as he could. “I’m happy you are here. I don’t really know how to apologise because I haven’t had to till now, but I apologise for being rude, and hurting you.” You gave him a smile.

“Can we try to be there for each other from now on?” The sincerity in your tone and the soft expression on your face made Lloyd feel things he didn’t realise he could.

“Yeah, let’s try that.” His answer was good enough for you.

After taking your permission, your husband softly wrapped his arm around you. You felt protected. And not alone.

Lloyd leaned in and waited till you gave him a nod, then attached his lips to yours. This was different than the first kiss you shared together, on your wedding day. It was full of care and compassion and didn’t feel obligatory.

In that moment you were hopeful about the future and what it brought for the two of you. Maybe married life won’t be so bad.

“Hey, let’s get some sleep now okay? You’ve had a long day.” It was true, you could feel the exhaustion in your body. You gave him a nod.

“Although before we sleep, I have a very important question to ask” Lloyd asked seriously and it made you look at him curiously.

“What do you think about my Moustache?”

#lloyd hansen x reader #lloyd hansen x plus size reader #lloyd hansen mob au #mob!lloyd hansen #chris evans x reader #chris evans x plus size reader #lloyd hansen fluff #lloyd hansen angst

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