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nataliasquote · 3 days

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Midas Touch [pt.2] | n romanoff

Summary: How is Y/n supposed to process the events of the last 24 hours when life wants to continue as normal? Her head is a total mess but the two people she is closest to are the ones most responsible. In a room full of people, she is the most alone

Warnings: bad coping mechanisms, shitty husband, cheating, mentions of an injury

Pairings: James Barnes x wife!reader, maid!Natasha Romanoff x mistress!reader

wc: 5k

Note: hello :) I am back! This is nowhere near as good as I want it to be but I need to get back into writing so I pushed myself to write this :) I hope you enjoy and thank you for all the love on the first part of ‘Midas Touch’

-⧗-

If Y/n Barnes was a master of one thing, it was pushing her feelings so far down they didn’t dare bob above the surface even just an inch. There was no tell-tale sign of what had happened the previous night…

… except for the dark bruise scattered nicely across her high cheekbone.

James didn’t return home that night so Y/n woke up to an empty bed. It wasn’t the first time, and certainly wouldn’t be the last, but the vast expanse of the egyptian cotton bed sheets encased her body like a glove, and pulling herself out would be an impossible task.

Natasha knocked on the door at 10am, her uniform ironed to a crisp perfection. Flashes of last night blurred through her mind but she cleared her thoughts with a deep breath and pushed the heavy door open after a suitable and swift knock. She headed straight to the long curtains that concealed the balcony doors and tugged them open to allow a small strip of light to dance across the oak floors.

“Good morning, Mrs Barnes,” she spoke gently, watching her mistress smooth her hands over her mussed up hair. The same soft hair she’d felt beneath her own fingertips in an entirely new way. “We have plenty of time, but I would like to remind you that you have your Vanity Fair photoshoot today.”

Y/n groaned and shuffled up to prop her torso up against the thick pillows, the strap of her nightdress falling down her shoulder slightly. “Did we not reschedule that?” She asked, large eyes following Natasha like a hawk.

“I’m afraid not, ma’am,” Natasha replied with a grimace. Y/n rolled her eyes, again, and blindly gestured for Natasha to bring her robe over. Whilst the spring days were getting warmer, mornings still carried a cooler breeze that felt rather harsh if you were dressed in nothing but a silk slip. “I can still call ahead and see-”

“There’s no need. It’s just a photoshoot, not the end of the world.” Y/n’s bleary eyes were still half closed as Natasha approached, rather hesitantly, with the feathered robe draped over one arm. She reprimanded herself to stay professional but as their eyes met, she couldn’t help but see the helpless expression that she saw in them only hours before, the same one she fell for without considering the repercussions. Natasha was sure Y/n could hear how loudly her heart was beating behind her blouse and she waited for a remark or look that would truly test her to the limit, yet nothing came.

Y/n accepted the robe with a tight lipped smile and moved into the bathroom without another word. Natasha couldn’t help but linger on the blue bruise in contrast with her pale skin, but she knew not to mention it. It was just another elephant in the room, which was turning into quite the zoo now.

Photoshoot preparation was fairly minimal as hair and makeup would be taken care of on set, so Natasha just focussed on preparing breakfast and briefing Y/n on everything she needed to know.

“- and I think that’s everything,” Natasha said, placing her pen down on the table. “Oh, um, well, there is one more thing, but…”

“Spit it out, Natasha, we really don’t have all day.” Y/n peered over the top of her large framed sunglasses with a raised brow, watching as the redhead cowered slightly under her gaze. “What is it?”

Natasha swallowed and started to fiddle with her nails under the table. Why was this so hard? “It’s just your… cheek, ma’am. Would you rather we covered it up here to avoid any suspicions, or we could create a cover story? Perhaps you were hit with a tennis ball-”

Y/n held up her index finger, effectively cutting Natasha off mid ramble. The stress was evident in her tone and it was slightly irritating to the young woman who had managed to distance herself from everything rather quickly. Sure, the ache on one side of her face was still there and served as a harsh reminder of what her life was, but she had a part to play, and nothing, not even Natasha, would get in the way of that.

“I don’t care,” Y/n stated bluntly, pushing her sunglasses up into her freshly washed hair. “You can do both, cover it up and make up a story.” Her tone was blasé and Natasha frowned, unsure of how to handle her next words. “It’s not a big deal, so please don’t turn it into one. And James cannot know that you know, okay, or he will fire you if he finds out.”

Her words were like a kick to the stomach and Natasha nodded swiftly before busying herself with collecting the breakfast tray. Despite being the one to end their kiss last night and cement to Y/n that it was wrong, there was still a part of her that clung on to their relationship being forever changed for the better and she yearned for that feeling they’d shared only hours previous. But Y/n cooler demeanour squashed all hope and she even wondered if it all had been a dream. If it wasn’t for the bruise, maybe she would have been convinced.

Natasha didn’t utter another word about it, instead immersing herself into preparations. Y/n was typing away on her phone on the drive over, so Natasha stole thirty minutes to continue with her book. But the words on the pages were simply just that, she couldn’t focus on more than a paragraph. She was hyper aware of the heeled foot bobbing out the corner of her eye where Y/n had one leg crossed over the other as she scrolled through her phone, and how if they were only a few inches closer it would be brushing against her calf. But Natasha shook her thoughts away as they pulled up to the studio and fetched the bags as Y/n’s publicist greeted them at the door.

Natasha was directed to the dressing room, the kind of place she was familiar with, and she laid out her things before hovering by the door. Her role during photoshoots was minimal, and quite frankly she didn’t need to be there, but Y/n always requested her presence as a sense of comfort and familiarity. Things got overwhelming quickly on set.

“Oh thank god, I thought you’d got lost,” Y/n breathed as she spotted Natasha by the soft couch, hands clasped over her lap. “I have a favour to ask.”

“Okay, what is it?”

Y/n peeked down the hallway before quickly closing the door, allowing them a moment of privacy before the chaos ensued. “Will you stay with me all day?” Her voice was quiet, like she was afraid to admit it. Natasha’s eyes softened and she nodded. “It’s just- I’ve never felt as safe with someone as I do with you, and after yesterday I-”

“It’s okay, I’ll be right here, and I’ll hover on set so I’m never far away. And I’ve already sent the message around so no one will ask about your cheek.” Y/n smiled gratefully, counting her blessings for how lucky she was to have Natasha in her life. She went above and beyond her duties and had the kindest heart, one that captured Y/n more than she cared to admit.

Their sweet moment was cut short as a knock on the door sounded, promptly followed by the entry of the glam team. Y/n was swooped away into hair and makeup, a simple yet versatile look that could be adapted to fit each outfit. Natasha watched like a hawk, scanning Y/n’s body language for any signs of discomfort. But her mistress was also a professional when it came to performing in public, so no outsider would ever know what was bubbling beneath the surface. She chatted and laughed with her stylists just like any other day, complimenting the soft waves in her hair and the shade of blush used on her cheeks.

The shoot itself harnessed the light and airy feel of summer, utilising bright colours and soft prints that complimented Y/n’s complexion perfectly. She’d worked with the photographer a few times before, with James too, so they worked naturally together, her features enhanced by his skill and her ease in which she posed.

The camera adored her. Which wasn’t surprising, Y/n really was gorgeous. Each outfit fitted her body like a glove and she gazed down the lens with such a sultry look that Natasha shifted in her seat a few times. She watched, mesmerised - this part of her job never got old.

Natasha had come crashing down overnight, the one small taste of her mistress that she’d managed to get had got her addicted and the way the redhead looked at her was far from professional, no matter how hard she tried.

And life wasn’t helping her case either. Not when Y/n came strutting out in her final outfit, a light blue silk dress with a dangerously low back and swooping neckline. She locked eyes with Natasha and winked as the make up artist added a final coat of lipstick before stepping back to allow the set to be empty. Y/n turned at an angle to the camera and looked back over her shoulder, eyes gazing off away from the lens… and straight to Natasha. Her soft eyeliner brought out the colours in her eyes in the most gorgeous way and they seemed to sparkle in the studio lights as she turned and posed, all whilst looking directly at her maid.

Anyone looking at the meek redhead in the corner would just see a maid on duty. No one would be able to see the way her eyes followed where Y/n’s hands went, knowing she’d held them in hers only hours before. Nor would they see how she stared at her slightly parted lips whilst remembering the way they felt on her own. How gentle and delicate they felt, a wild contrast to her captivating and consuming presence that made everyone on set stop and stare. Y/n had finally trusted someone to see her vulnerable and Natasha treasured it like a precious stone, keeping it near and dear to her heart.

The day wrapped after a few hours and Y/n changed straight into a bikini before heading down to the pool, her hair loose and still curled from the shoot. The water was always her preferred way of unwinding and Natasha gave her some space to be alone for a while, something that rarely happened in her hectic life.

The house was peaceful as the afternoon sun warmed the patio where Y/n resided, her legs dangling into the crystal pool water below. Her large sunglasses stopped the glare from blinding her and she moved her feet slowly, following the ripples that she created. There was nothing to be heard but the birds in the trees and the occasional clink of crockery as the chefs prepared a light dinner. Natasha stayed back, her chair placed in the shade to save her delicately pale skin from the harsh sun rays. She didn’t tan like Y/n did, and looking like a lobster was not on her to do list for the week.

But her seat still gave her an amazing view and as Y/n stood up to refill her glass, Natasha took the time to admire her toned body and how it glistened from the tanning oil. Every piece of exposed skin looked smooth and she knew it would feel just as soft under her fingertips.

Her attentive ears picked up the sound of heavy footsteps across the marble floors and Natasha sat up a little straighter as James appeared in the doorway. He was focused on the woman by the pool, her damp hair sticking to her exposed back as it dried in the heat. With four strides he was at the pool edge, saying something that made Y/n climb to her feet.

Natasha was used to their PDA, but this one felt wrong to watch. The second their lips touched, she brought her book closer, trying to distract herself. But the more she thought about it, the more she couldn’t keep looking away. She saw how James’ hand instantly found the curve of Y/n’s lower back and pressed her body into him as he held the back of her head to kiss her. Natasha saw Y/n almost melted into his touch and she cursed how natural they looked. Was everything okay with them? Had Y/n really pushed her pain that far down that she could forgive her husband in two seconds? Or was this all just an act that the couple had perfected over time because this had been happening a lot longer than Natasha knew. She dreaded to consider the latter but the sinking feeling in her stomach wouldn’t let it go.

At the poolside, Y/n finally pulled away from James, her lips slightly numb. “Where were you?” she muttered quietly, not fully looking him in the eye as he brushed his thumb across her bottom lip.

“Work, doll, you know how hectic it gets sometimes.” There was something off about him, but Y/n was too exhausted to pry so she let her eyes fall to the exposed chain resting on his chest thanks to the buttons undone on his shirt. “Have you been good today?”

“Had a photoshoot,” Y/n replied, and James tensed, gripping her waist firmer as he waited for her next words. “The one for Vanity Fair’s cover next month.”

James grunted in response and dragged his hand up his wife’s body, raking in her figure in her small black bikini. Natasha watched over the top of her book, perplexed. No one could see how uncomfortable Y/n was as James’ hand gripped the back of her neck and guided her inside, her facade was good, but she prayed it would be obvious as they passed the redhead who could only pretend she didn’t see them. Y/n desperately tried to make eye contact with her maid but Natasha ignored her, sending a shudder down her spine as James’ grip hardened.

“Why are you so quiet today? Cat got your tongue?” James asked once the bedroom door was closed and the couple were finally alone. Y/n lingered by the bed as he discarded his button down shirt in exchange for a lighter and more simple one. “I asked you a question, Y/n.”

“I’m just tired from the shoot,” she replied, eyes flitting over his muscular back. “And the constant dodging of questions.” Y/n saw the way he froze, still with his back turned, and the confidence that had blossomed in her chest for a moment was snuffed out.

“Excuse me?”

Her chest heaved as her breathing sped up but she stood her ground, using the mattress behind her knees for support. “It’s hard to lie through my teeth when people are asking about the bruise on my face and I can’t tell them it was my husband. Photoshop is really going to save you-”

“What did you tell them?” James demanded as he stormed over, towering over her as he gripped her upper arm. “Did you dare?”

“I told them it was a tennis ball.” Relief flooded James’ face and he let her go, creating space between them. Y/n saw the way he looked at her cheek that was still covered with makeup. “Didn’t want to risk getting another one if you found out I’d told the truth.” The words were out before she could stop them and Y/n braced herself for the impact, expecting the inevitable.

But it didn’t come.

A hand touched her cheek, making her flinch, before it slid down to her waist and James knelt before her, his head resting on her bare stomach. His sudden change was unnerving and Y/n didn’t know what to do. He was leaning against her like a child, apologising and mumbling like a madman, and part of her wanted to push him away, but it would be a step too far. She just stood and listened to his apologies, once again blaming his work for making him aggressive and swearing that he’d never lay a hand on her again.

Part of her believed him, the naive part, but as she screwed her eyes shut, all she saw was Natasha. How gentle her touch was, something James could never do. He was always rough, no matter what, his hands calloused from years of fighting. The way Natasha’s palm felt against her burning cheeks would never be matched by anyone else and no matter how hard Y/n tried to imagine that the hands that were running across her back now belonged to her maid, she knew what Natasha’s touch was like and she couldn’t pretend anymore.

The moment the kisses started across her lower stomach, Y/n pushed James’ head away and sat down on the soft duvet, taking his hand in hers.

“It’s okay, I forgive you.”

Lies.

But for the sake of her life and safety, it was all she could say.

James was no knight in shining armour, despite his skillset. No, her true saviour knocked on the door in that moment, knocking the air out of her lungs as she breathed a sigh of relief. Natasha knew not to enter unless ordered, so Y/n scurried to the door and visibly softened at the sight of the redhead who’s cheeks were slightly flushed.

Right, Y/n was still in her bikini.

“I’m just here to say that dinner is ready and on the patio when you both are available,” she announced, smiling politely at James who had joined his wife at the door, his hand sliding around her waist possessively. “Chef prepared those oysters you requested, Mr Barnes.”

“Thank you, Natasha, Y/n and I will be right there.” The redhead didn’t linger, instead disappearing back down the stairs in a hurry.

“I’m just going to get changed, I’ll meet you down there,” Y/n said, wriggling out of his hold as soon as she could. “Don’t wait for me.”

“Don’t be too long, doll. I’ve missed you.”

He certainly had an odd way of showing that, considering he had disappeared for over twelve hours with not a word. But, once again, Y/n pushed that out of her mind and slipped on a simple white cover-up that was modest enough for dinner and padded downstairs to the patio where James had already tucked into his food. He grabbed her wrist and pulled her into a kiss, more of a display to the staff around them than anything else.

Seafood was never Y/n’s preference, so once she was sat across the table, her fork picked at parts of the salad, occasionally stomaching an oyster that James pushed her way. He glanced at her plate with a frown

“Are you on a new diet?”

Y/n almost dropped her fork and quickly fumbled to catch it before it clattered to the floor. “No,” she replied, mortified. “Should I be?”

James just shrugged, leaning back in his chair as he took a swig of his drink. His tanned chest was exposed and he revelled in the feeling of the sun on his skin, something he missed working in an office all day.

“That’s not up to me. I just want you to look good.” His vague response left a sour taste in Y/n mouth and she shifted in her seat uncomfortably, subtly adjusting the way the cover-up sat around her stomach.

“Then why did you ask?” Her mind cast back to the earlier photoshoot and the tight fitting clothes she’d squeezed into per the stylist’s request. Did they all think she needed to be on a diet too?

“You’re so sensitive,” James replied, wiping his mouth on a napkin. “It was just a question, just eat your food, doll. Or don’t, I don’t care.” Y/n looked down at her dish and pushed a cherry tomato around before eventually dropping her fork to the side with a clink. Despite how fresh her salad tasted, James’ words sank to her stomach like a stone and she felt disgusted at the thought. “What are you doing on Friday night?”

“I don’t think I’ve got anything planned, but I’ll need to check with Natasha-”

“You’re coming to the charity ball with me.” It wasn’t a request, it was a demand, and Y/n just nodded. “Rogers said it’s non-negotiable and you know how much I love having you on my arm. Rumlow will be there too, which is a bonus.” Y/n’s stomach lurched at the thought of seeing that man again. He was far too handsy for her liking and had zero respect for women, especially her. “It’ll give me another chance to show you off and put that asshole in his place.”

“James, you know I don’t feel comfortable around him-”

“I know, doll. But you’ve got me to protect you,” he countered, subtly flexing his arm that was placed behind his head.

But his words didn’t fill her with much hope. She hated feeling so helpless, but being surrounded by the men that James was associated with through work was like being surrounded by bears in a forest. How could she rely on her husband to keep her safe when he was now part of the reason why her hands shook? His slap had knocked her confidence away just like it did her breath, and the determination and independence she’d felt a few days ago was now nowhere to be seen. And she hated it.

“May I be excused?” Y/n asked, already feeling restless in her seat. James nodded and muttered something about a call, but she was already out of earshot by the time he’d finished.

Her legs didn't carry her up to her room like she expected. Instead, she found herself down the least familiar hallway, stopping outside a door she’d only knocked on once before.

A faint rustling was heard before the door flew open and Natasha’s face morphed from surprise to confusion at the sight of her mistress in the staff quarters.

“Can I come in? Please?” Neither Y/n or James ever ventured into the staff quarters, nevermind the rooms, but Natasha stepped aside and allowed her to enter, excusing how bare her room was.

“Is everything okay? You could have called for me.”

Y/n shook her head as she admired the neatness of Natasha’s living quarters. Her surfaces were dust free and bed made to perfection. “I don't know, I just wanted to get away from everything. And you’re the only person I could think of.”

Natasha frowned, her brows creasing as she watched her mistress peering out of the window at the gardens below. Y/n sensed her close presence and turned to face her, scanning her face and more importantly her eyes. A gentle hand raised to smooth the lines between the redhead’s brows upon instinct before Natasha stepped away, effectively placing a blockage between them.

“We should go somewhere else, Y/n, you shouldn’t be here.” It all felt wrong yet right and Natasha was so conscious of someone walking in on them. “Come, we can sit on the balcony.”

Y/n shook her head desperately. “No, James is out there on a call and I can’t face him right now. I don’t want to feel like I’m being watched anymore but there’s nowhere else I can go except to you and I shouldn’t, but you don’t understand, I can’t-”

“Y/n, breathe, it’s okay, I won’t make you go anywhere. What happened?”

“It’s pathetic,” she replied, adjusting the neckline of her coverup. “I’m just being ridiculous and sensitive, just like he said.”

“James?” Natasha probed, wishing she had been out on the patio to hear the conversation that had clearly shaken her mistress. “What did he say?”

“He just said something about a diet and I overreacted and asked if I should be on one and he got mad and I don’t know what the fuck is going on with me.”

“He said you should be on a diet?” Natasha repeated in disbelief. That was another score for the James Barnes hate chart, and if he didn’t pay her wages she’d have acted on her impulses a long time ago. They never quite saw eye to eye.

Y/n winced, feeling guilty for making the situation seem worse. A messy mind led to messy conversations and she just wanted to stop. “No, he-”

“So he said he doesn’t want you on one?”

“Well, not exactly, but that's all I can think about now. He wants me to look good, I’m his wife for god’s sake, I have to.” Her voice cracked and Y/n turned away from Natasha, moving back towards the door as doubt began to set in. “But what if I’m not enough, or perfect enough for him anymore? ”

Natasha had to fight to stop herself from speaking the words on her mind and she bit her lip. “No, Y/n, you are beautiful just the way you are. You don’t need a diet or anything like that,” she spoke softly. The other woman didn’t look convinced, so Natasha carefully stood up and opened her closet door to reveal a small mirror about ¾ of a full length. “Here, let me show you something.”

“Natasha, I can’t-”

“Y/n, please…” she trailed off, holding out her hand patiently. She wasn’t about to force her to do anything, Natasha could see the cogs whirring in her busy mind and knew what she was fighting. Half of her wanted to go and find James and kick him in the balls, just like she wanted to last night, but she was here for Y/n. Not him.

“I shouldn’t even be here, this was stupid-”

“No,” Natasha interrupted, stopping Y/n in her tracks. “What’s stupid is James making you feel as worthless as you do. Why do you listen to him?” Y/n avoided her gaze, choosing instead to twist her wedding ring around her finger, it suddenly feeling heavier than usual. “Do you not see how beautiful you are? How you give your heart out to anyone who needs it without caring what state it is in when you get it back? Do you not see that you are so much more than just his wife?” Natasha’s words were true, but they fell upon deaf ears and Y/n shook her head, reaching for the doorknob whilst trying to hide her trembling hands.

“I’m sorry…” she mumbled, not giving Natasha a chance to stop her before slipping back out into the hallway where she came from.

Natasha watched the door close dejectedly, her heart sinking. “Do you not see how much I love you?”

Y/n sped down the hallway with glassy eyes, her head more clouded than ever. She had so many questions, but who was she to ask when the two closest to her were the ones completely messing with her head, tugging it in opposite directions until the rope threatened to snap. She barely registered travelling back upstairs until she reached the bedroom door and threw it open without a care. James’ head turned at the noise and he spoke down the phone before hanging up and followed Y/n into her dressing room.

Y/n was completely lost with her thoughts when she felt his hands on her and barely reacted to his touch. His lips trailed up her neck to her ear and she tilted her head back purely on instinct. She felt too numb for this, but let him continue because she was his wife and that was her job. Nothing sparked her brain when he pulled her coverup off or when he picked her up and placed her on the dresser in the middle of the room. It was all muscle memory and he was too focused to notice her lack of enthusiasm.

How could so much change in twenty four hours? She lived an amazing life, incredibly privileged, so why wasn’t she happy? Couples fight all the time, her husband was an aggressive man, but a single slap didn’t mean much in the grand scheme of things. She’d get over it and maybe James would go back to being the loving husband he was before.

But even now, as his calloused hands pulled off her bikini top and pressed his lips to her soft skin, she doubted that her life would ever go back to the way it was. Not now that she had Natasha.

Yet that was nothing more than a fruitless desire. Because, despite her comebacks and displays of confidence towards her husband, he was more powerful than she would ever be and had the ability to ruin her life if she went against his wishes.

Was it worth it? Y/n really wasn’t sure. She would never be certain.

#natasha romanoff #marvel #fanfic #natasha romanoff x reader #black widow #natasha romanoff fluff #natasha romanoff angst #natasha romanoff oneshot #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff fanfic #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff x female reader #james barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #midas touch

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egophiliac · 1 year

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couple more quickies, because I gotta work through my Shroud-family feelings before I can even begin to process the Diasomnias, please bear with me 🙇

anyway, I couldn't decide which composition I liked better, so I did both!

#art #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland spoilers #twisted wonderland episode 7 spoilers #twisted wonderland book 7 spoilers #eyestrain #sorry i know i've been posting too much in this style i just have FEELINGS #feelings that can only be expressed through high-contrast #anyway #i don't know why i never even considered he would go to rsa. of course he would.#ortho is cerberus -> ortho is a Good Boy -> ortho goes to Good Boy school #the math checks out #we have not even seen dreamworld ortho yet and i'm already obsessed. i hope he shows up just in time for a dramatic ortho vs ortho showdown

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anantaru · 5 days

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synopsis. boothill wants to know how many of his fingers you can take — one? two? or three? <3

cw. metal fingers (they're cold & vibrate), fingering + clit rubbing, calls you baby, fem! reader

"no, no, no," boothill mutters underneath his drawn out exhale as his digits trace soft patterns over your achy clit, "don't buck back, baby, you're already so sensitive, aren't you?" as a grateful hum whirls against your temperate neck.

his eyes scan over your bare body— your tits showing erected nipples, your thighs so prettily soft and your ass, ugh, all for him to look at with your dress pulled up your waist.

naked, you're completely naked and it only made him delve deeper into his want, his need and the desire to crowd you with him.

it's all he wants, everything he needs.

you're so messy, so wet, just perfect. and boothill wonders how more messed up he could get you if he was to insert a finger inside. after all, currently he only rubbed on your clit, pulling on the hood of your pearl and playfully tugging it, surging warm curls into the reactive nerves as you're repeatedly bucking into his hand.

"you want a finger, hm?" he probs at your hole, his voice sounding so handsome, so desperately hot that in truth, you wanted him to fuck you right here and there, skip all of this and grace you with the thick press of his cock stretching you nicely, "just one now?" he winks smugly from behind as he pulls one finger in, leisurely, pressing back and forth to his knuckle and back.

you wince at the coldness immediately, the metal slipping within your temperate walls as you were already pretty much riding the finger. the clear contrast of hot walls and cold finger made you moan his name, moan it wetly and scream it even filthier as you arch your back, your ass rubbing back into his palm as he fingerfucks you.

"hey not yet, don't get too excited, gonna put two fingers in now," he groans quietly, kissing along your neck, rubbing your wet walls with one digit, "need to see you get excited for my cock later, you think you can take two though?" you're beyond overwhelmed by the single one, does he really believe the combination of one finger would give him such a reaction from you if not due to the fact that his digit was vibrating almost cruely.

a cold metal, spilling in and out, vibrating, the quivers and judders of strong sparks reaching all into the blood in your body, rushing through your weeping pussy as you slick him up with your wetness.

you nod eagerly, part your legs for him just a little more as he inserts the second— and this time, the stretch was already burning, a plenitude of pleasure melting into your sensitivity, riveting over your dazed mind. you felt a new sense of excitement enter your psyche, it's dangerous but you do not mind, and as you pull your head back to look at your boyfriend, you see bliss in his own expression, tented in the shadows of his eyes as he licks his lips.

in the most intimate sense, your budding cunt clenches down and shakes at the vibrations of his fingers adding an uncountable amount of new pleasure, the vibration like silent promises, promising you that they'll make you cum and cum all over his hand, right here and there, high on the sensation of the freezing steel entering you this filthily.

"you're so wet for me, oh, oh ugh," boothill bites down on your neck to hide his moans, but his fingers fuck you without pause, so lecherous with their precise thrusts entering your lust-filled body.

"it's so easy for me to just slide in, don't you feel it? you've been waiting for this, didn't you?"

"waiting for me to make you feel good,"

seeing your slick all over him so deviously decadent, made his heart skip a beat and cock hard, all the blood rushing to his erection— fuck, he's so hard and thick, his shaft pushing messily against your plush ass from under his boxers, the girth and length coaxing a thrilling shiver from your body.

"you want me to try three now?" your cunt sucks him in at his words, squelching noises buzzing over your ears in an embarrassing orchestra as you nod your head at him, loved to get stuffed on all ends, with all of him entering you.

"yeah? you want it? gotta be wide open for me, for later," abruptly, he adds the third and the stretch funnily enough— didn't feel too painful, which was due to the fact that you were already wet for him, soaking the insides of your thighs and your ass.

you're gasping, twitching, you're so hungry and bending around his fingers like you're made for him— as if boothill was always supposed to pleasure you this way. the compelling, pressuring thrusts of his digits rocking into your hole was enough for you to become overwhelmed by all the sensations happening at the same time.

sudden warmth fills your belly as you release all over his hand, the sparks of his fingers exuding the vibrations had turned stronger, harder and ruthless to the point where you could feel them attack your sweet, little clit, begging for mercy.

"ohh, yeah, just like that," he places a kiss on your neck, "let me see it, cum for me, pleaseplease," breathing heavily when he broke away to prolong your orgasm, "see? i told you baby, you could take three fingers, maybe more?"

#hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader #hsr smut #honkai star rail smut #boothill x reader #boothill smut #honkai starrail smut #honkai starrail x reader #boothill x you

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lust444men · 5 months

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sorry but I feel like when Hobie is in one of those moods, he'd be the biggest dickhead in bed. You want it slower? He'll go faster. You want it faster? he'll go slower. Don't stop? He's stopped. Coming? He pulled out and ruined your orgasm.

warnings: slightly dom!Hob? x fem!reader, rough, overstim, mocking, teasing, slight dumbification?? idk. ruined orgasm. unprotected sex, use protection, don't be stupid!! oral (f rec). hes abit of a cocky bastard. fink that's it.

(all consensual, hush up!!!)

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Hobie roughly pounds into you, his hands leaving a bruising grip on your hips, his eyes connected to his dick slipping in and out of you with ease. He hears your whimpers and whines fill the air, the sound making him impossibly harder. He slows his pace, letting you catch your breath.

"Ay, c'mon, doll. We jus' started. Don' tell me you're givin' up a'ready?" He cooed gently, his hand brushing a piece of hair behind your ear. "I-I'm o-oka-" Your words were cut short when he suddenly slammed back into you, hitting that sweet spot and making you splutter a whimper.

"Yeh? Then take i'." He mumbled roughly, his hand coming back down to your hip, his head now finding itself buried in your neck, placing soft kisses to harsh bites, marking you up. He leaned back up, a smirk gracing his pierced lip as he watches your fucked out expression.

"Wha's wrong, baby?" He asked with faux sympathy.

"S-slower! S'too much!" You mumbled, your hands fumbling to push at his hips. He chuckles lowly, grabbing both your hands in one of his, pushing it above your head.

"Slower, ay? Okay, baby." He whispered, kissing your forehead before smirking and picking up the pace, enjoying the way you writhe and moan beneath him.

"M'gonna come! Fuck- oh fuck. Bee, please." You begged, wriggling your wrists in his hold.

"S'okay, luv. You can come. Come f'me." He cooed, but the second he saw your body tense up and he heard your signature mewl, he pulled out, leaving you empty and ruining your orgasm. You whined, your legs shaking from the aftermath of a sad orgasm, looking up at him with pleading eyes.

"Why did you do that?! let me come." You complained, hating the way his face lit up and he smirked at you.

"Awh, m'sorry, luv. Le' me make i' up ta ya, yeah?" He whispered gently, kissing your temple before going down your body, hooking your legs over his shoulder, kissing his way down your thigh and towards your cunt, enjoying your little breaths and mumbled pleas. He gripped your thighs, the cold metal from his rings a sharp contrast to your skin that feels like it's on fire with every touch he gives you. Finally giving you what you wanted, he swiped his tongue through your folds, switching between soft licks and rough licks to your clit.

"Ohh god. Oh god." You whimpered, your hand tangling in his messy wicks as you tugged, pulling him closer.

"No god, baby. Me." He mumbled against your cunt, before delving back in, one hand sliding off your thigh to join in, two fingers slipping inside you with ease, moving in the same rhythm as his tongue did, immediately bringing you closer.

"Hobie! m'gonna come. m'so close." You said, your eyes meeting his that were already staring at you, a devilish glint in them. The sight alone made you crash head first into your intense orgasm, your head falling back as your hips rocked against Hobie's face. He happily lapped up every last bit of you, not even changing the pace of his fingers or tongue. You came down from your high, mewling softly, the feeling of overstimulation burning into your skin.

"Hob- too much." You said, attempting to roll your hips away from him, only to be yanked back.

"Nah, luv. You said you wan'ed to come, so you're gon' come f'me, yeah?"

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I love how I disappear for months, come back for 3 days, write smut about hobie, n dip again. at least its good smut. (I hope it is)

ps. check out my 400 celebration post >> here

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pixiiipie · 5 days

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dumbification with sub neuvilette <3

after a long day that sends his emotions everywhere, neuvilette just wants to crumble. feeling so much but not allowed to break his public facade is exhausting. fortunately, there are two ways he can allow himself to regulate his emotions. one being to do something he enjoys to relax and the other being exactly what he needs today…

he made his feelings known to you as when he returned to you soaking wet from the rain, he fell to his knees and begged “please… help me forget about the day.” who were you to refuse this beautiful man? drenched from the rain and looking up at you through long eyelashes. oh what a sight. he was lucky that you shared the same desire. you had to destroy this man immediately until he was crying- mm maybe you weren’t going to stop.

———

oh how he loved this feeling. he had forgotten just how good you can make him feel and now he had forgotten everything except how good you were making him feel. you were trying to be careful with him, trying to remember that you were doing this to make him feel better but neuvilette just looks so beautiful with his hair spread out across the pillows and his blissed out expression.

you were fucking deep into him and with every thrust, a sizeable bulge appeared in his abdomen. he would now and then release his hand from the pillow and trace where this bulge was being made to allow what was left of his mind to fantasise. “you’re being such a good boy for me darling.” you purred by his sensitive ears making him shiver.

your words were all he cared to hear. he no longer worried about how loud he was or how embarrassing anything was. all he thought about was you you you. “mmmgnnn g’boyy” he whined as your praise only furled his lust. he was your good boy. he was always so good for you. “that’s it, stop thinking about everything.” you say noticing the dazed look in his eyes. not long after, his back arched off of the bed as he came for the second time. “hnnngggg ah- haahhh apo-lgies” he whimpered. you have such a polite boy. even though you told him he could cum without permission, he still apologised when he did. cute

“how are you feeling?” you ask, wiping away a stray tear trying to help him down from his high gently. at this motion, neuvilette nuzzled into your hand craving anything you give to him. he was so lost in this soft exchange contrasting with how roughly you were just fucking him that your question had not registered as a question. “mmmore… ple-ease i beg moree” he whined trying to move his hips with you still inside him.

fuck he was so hot. hovering over his face, you pretended to go in to kiss him and instead attached yourself to the side of his neck. neuvilette audibly whined at this and tried using the small amount of strength in him to force you back to kiss him but his actions were soon halted as you made love bites across his neck. “pretty” you whispered every time you came up for air. neuvilette just whined. everything was too much but this was the only too much neuvilette needed. a too much where he could show exactly how he was feeling without fearing about his image.

“p-ple-ease.” he choked out, wrapping his arms around you and attempting to grind onto you. “don’t worry my darling,” you say nibbling his ear making him squirm, “i’ll fill you exactly like you want.” neuvilette almost came again. that was all he wanted. to be full and happy with no stresses. noticing his change in expression, you resumed your thrusts making sure to whisper sweet nothings into his ear for only him to hear. his mind was foggy so there was only so much he could make out but he only wanted you talking to him. all your attention was on him.

“o-ohhh mmnhmghh archons-! haahh” he moaned. with every thrust, the image of neuvilette was disappearing and becoming this mess of tears and desperation. such a stark contrast only for you to see. “ple-ease insi-ide mmgghhhh i-in meee” he begged. “of course my good boy. i’ll make sure to fill you nicely.” you say with your hand redirecting his attention to the bulge you were making. “augghhhhh a-archonss.” he moans as his head swims back to all of his previous fantasies. this was enough to tip him over again.

“together!?” he manages to blurt out quickly pressing his face into your shoulder to stabilise him while he tried to wait for you but that only made things worse. he loved how you smelled and he took in your scent as if he was drinking water. “yes…! yes my darling” you reply quickening your pace.

it wasn’t long before neuvilette was whining into your shoulder and he was trying so hard not to completely loose himself and dig his nails into you. as he wished, you both (just about) came together which almost knocked the wind out of neuvilette as he wasn’t expecting just how overwhelming it would feel.

after a moment where you both recovered from your high, you tried to pull out of neuvilette to which he meekly said “no” and held onto your arm. you just smiled down at him and readjusted yourself to be able to hold him. “how are you?” you ask, kissing his forehead. “…mmm fulll” neuvilette replied, his head too stuffed with cotton to think of anything but you.

#mmmmm kinda bad but i’m so so sleepyyyy #i’m trying to get rid of the super soft bits and make my things rougher #idk pls gimme feedback what would u like my sweets?#dom reader #sub character #dom!reader #smut #sub neuvillette #sub genshin impact #sub genshin #💜•neuvilette #💜•breeding #💜•dumbification #dumbification #sub!character #sub!neuvilette #💜•maris fics

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mistle10 · 10 months

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Character: Scaramouche x fem afab reader

Rating: 🔞🔞🔞

Summary: "Scaramouche is a surprisingly gentle lover."

A/N: Everyone on tumblr is like "oh he fucks so hard you'll end up bruised and battered" and I'm like NO.

Word count: 1.3k

Fic under the cut!

Simply put it, Scaramouche is a surprisingly gentle lover. If you're his, truly his, then that stubborn demeanor would dissolve in your presence. Of course, he could fuck you rougher on occasion, but he could never hurt you, not even if you begged and pleaded. Gentle touches during the day turn into more intimate caresses as the false sky fades into starlight, and another intimate encounter begins.

His eyes, normally sharp, are soft when he looks at you, and he takes his time undressing the both of you. His lips against yours sends a jolt of electricity down your spine, eliciting a soft whine from you. The lights are dim, nothing but a few candles illuminating your shared space. The soft glow of the light against his pale skin makes him seem even more ethereal than he already is, and your heart skips a beat.

Scara runs his hands down your sides, the spider cracks on his palms just barely tactile on your skin. His kisses are firm but gentle, a stark contrast to his usual demeanor, and you let out a shaky breath as his hands begin to trace the curves of your body. With a practiced ease, his hands slide down to the curve of your ass, pulling your body more firmly against his own. He holds you firmly in his grasp, making your body tingle with desire as he holds your body against his own.

Scara dips you down onto the bed, leaving hot kisses down your body, over your chest, pausing only to lightly press more up and down your breasts, then your hips, and even further.

When he finally reaches your legs, delicate hands push your thighs apart, lingering for a few moments to knead the soft flesh there with his thumbs. Next, a thumb brushes down your lower lips, feeling the moisture that he caused.

Then, he looks up at you.

"Eager now, are we?" He teases, an expression more akin to a dorky grin than any malicious smirk he's shown in the past.

You bite your lip, chest rising and falling as his tongue darts out of his mouth, licking at your folds with almost a teasing slowness at first. He makes a more direct pass at your clit with his tongue, bringing a soft moan from your lips. Despite his lack of bodily moisture as a doll, the wetness from your arousal is always more than enough for him to pleasure you without issue. He would breath through his nose, his breath fluttering over you and causing little shivers with each exhale.

As his tongue licks and sucks your clit, he inserts two of his slender fingers into your core. Your legs quiver, and you let out a strangled groan, nails digging into the sheets beneath you.

A weak, yet nubile "Scaraー" passes your lips, halfway between a moan and a whine, and he groans lowly, the vibrations of his voice sending a jolt of pleasure through you. The pleasure begins to mount, and you let out a weak sound, almost a whimper, as his ministrations continue. He sucks your clit harder, pushing you over the edge. Your back arches, toes curl, and a high, breathy whine leaves your mouth, muffled by your hand. He always knows exactly how to get you breathless and desperate for him. This happens to be one of his favorite ways. Your walls clench around his fingers, and he pulls them from your core, giving your clit one last suck before pulling away, a string of your own arousal connecting to his lip for a moment.

He wipes the back of his hand across his mouth, letting out a pleased hum as you begin to calm down. He crawls up the length of your body, settling on top of you and pushing your legs apart once again. You can feel his cock, warm and hard, resting against your inner thigh. You whimper, eyes fluttering closed, as you feel his tip at your entrance. Oh, how you missed this. His cock, the sensation of it inside you...you missed it. You craved it, and the slow, firm press of him inside you is a sweet ache.

He bottoms out in you with ease. He's not too big, just big enough to avoid your cervix and brush against all of your sensitive spots inside. It feels good, feeling full again. He holds himself there for a moment, a soft sound leaving him as he does so. He rests his head on your shoulder, taking in the feeling of you as he waits for you to adjust.

It suddenly occurrs to you how little you'd said to each other. But the two of you don't exactly need to talk to each other, not really. You could express everything you needed without words.

Caressing your hips, he gazes over your body for a few moments before bringing those blue eyes back up to meet yours.

"My dear, won't you say it for me?" He smirks a bit, "please."

A weak, yet loving, "I love you" passes your lips, and his lips meet yours with a gentle passion. He grabs your wrists, wrapping your arms around him, and settles more closely on top of you, lavishing your neck with sweet kisses.

Your warm body makes him feel safe, in fact, he's never felt safer than in your arms. As someone so proud, he could never admit that he was fragile, too, but the show of vulnerability he often gave to you was admission enough.

As moans spill from your lips, he drinks them all up, wanting more. His hips move more eagerly inside of you, and he just wants you to feel good.

"Ohーmy dear," he groans, voice strained, "it's...you're...nng." He falters, losing his words momentarily as his pace increases. He lifts himself up slightly to watch himself thrust inside you, his cock covered in your arousal. He's entranced by the sight of it. The way your core squeezes around him as he moves inside of you, the way the light from the candles shines off his pale skin. He never wanted to leave your arms again, his body and mind needed this. This feeling of belonging in the arms of someone who loved him unconditionally.

You feel his thrusts begin to become more uneven, and you can feel him throbbing inside you, his hands' gentle grip on your hips becoming a bit tighter.

"Cum for me, my dear," he murmurs, leaning back down and capturing your lips in another passionate kiss. He wants nothing more than for the two of you to finish together.

You nod your head, biting your lip, as you wrap your arms around him tightly.

He releases inside you with a quiet, trembling gasp, and you shudder, your walls clenching around him, milking him of every last drop he has to offer. He presses himself into your shoulder, and his warm body tenses against yours, holding you tightly. It takes him a few moments to calm down, but as he pulls back, he smiles, a warm, dorky expression.

He's a bit more reserved in this form, a softer, kinder side of him that was reserved for you and you only. Of course, you saw this expression much more frequently than his usual cocky attitude. You wouldn't have minded either way, because both versions of Scaramouche were yours.

After sex, the two of you always went back to your usual routine. He brings you close to his body, holding you tightly, and there's nowhere you've ever felt safer.

#genshin smut #scara x y/n #scaramouche x reader #genshin impact smut #not proofread

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pomefioredove · 9 days

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Hiii! I adore your writings especially the vill fics thank you for blessing us vil fans 😭🙏💕

Can you please write soulmate au with vil and the perks of being soulmate with him? Thank youuu

thank you so much, that's so sweet!!! and OHHH soulmate.... so good

summary: soulmates type of post: fic characters: vil additional info: romantic, reader is gender neutral, reader is not specified to be yuu, FLUFFY, lovesick vil forever

Vil Schoenheit had always deemed the existence of "soulmates" to be a thing confined in the lines of a poem.

Ever the rationalist, Vil hadn't even entertained the fantasy of meeting his "perfect match", if such a person even existed. His life was not that of a cheesy movie script he'd turn down.

Finding someone who could cope with his strict lifestyle would be a miracle in and of itself.

...And if you had asked Vil Schoenheit what his image of the perfect partner would be, he would say exactly that.

Someone beautiful, intelligent, responsible, with the dedication and discipline to keep up with him.

Spoken with a sardonic smile and honeyed words, Vil knew that his chances of actually finding someone to meet his standards, to keep up with him, were slim.

He couldn't have possibly imagined having to keep up with you, instead.

You were like a shooting star; swift and bright, moving faster than he could fathom, cutting through the dark parts of his life like a hot blade.

Something for him to wish on.

Beautiful.

Like nothing he could have ever imagined.

There was a radiance in everything you did, one that made your skin glow with or without products, a certain warmth that so contrasted the refined and elegant image he'd grown to associate with beauty.

Vil would eagerly tend to your every need. It was a dream just to touch you, to have the honor of pushing your hair out of your face.

He would savor every second of grazing your skin, of tracing your features with delicate fingertips, if only just to cleanse your pores after a long day.

With you, every simple action is beautiful.

Vil enjoys pampering people he cares for, and thus your life is full of high-end products, the best groceries money can buy, and his personal advice from the very second he sets eyes on you.

He would gladly do your personalized skincare routine with you every night and every morning if time allowed it.

2. Intelligent.

In such a way that makes him eager to understand you.

Really, it's your insatiable curiosity that draws him in.

He could spend hours upon hours simply listening to you talk. Your interests begin excite him just as much as they excite you, your passion for learning and creating capture his attention with ease.

There's never a dull moment between the two of you.

What others might consider useless conversations about trivial matters, Vil holds to the highest regard.

It comes to the point where he begins asking you for opinions, even if he knows he'll disagree with your answer, just to hear your perfect voice, just to watch your expression change in the way it does when you're thinking.

He's infatuated with your thought process, with the way your mind works.

Understanding you is not a labor, but a privilege.

3. Responsible.

To where all he could ask for is you and your gentle touch.

You care. Whether you're aware of it or not, you care so deeply about the people in your life, it almost puts Vil to shame.

Paired with your determination and resilience, and your ceaseless sense of independence, it's absolutely irresistible to him.

Vil is so unfamiliar with the way you treat him. Tenderly, and softly, like he's something that needs to be taken care of. You don't put him on a high shelf like a trophy, but carry him at your side, like a beloved doll.

He's never been at the receiving end of such consideration.

On the days where it feels as if the world is coming undone around him, he has somewhere to go. A place to hide, where he can forget all that he's supposed to be, and just simply be instead.

You are a home to him.

Vil knows that the both of you are perfectly capable (exemplary, even) at minding yourselves, though that's exactly what makes this tenderness you share all the better.

Independence is a gift, though one that he'll gladly set aside for a time, to be alone and soft with you.

4. Keeping Up.

Some days, it feels as if he's hanging onto you for dear life.

Afraid that if he looks away for even a moment, you'd vanish, leaving him alone with all of his naive, shallow thoughts on what his soulmate should be.

You're a dream to him. Far better than anything he ever could have asked for, or even imagined. He would be a fool to let you get away, he knows as much.

And perhaps he doesn't have the words to express it yet, perhaps he does. Perhaps these thoughts of his are tucked away in a journal, imbued in the lines of a poem, or in the color choices of a floral arrangement. Perhaps he whispers them to you in the early hours of the morning, still caught in that dreamlike space between sleep and wake.

One thing has become clear to him, though: Vil could never adequately describe all that he wants in a soulmate.

You're far too complex to put in a single sentence.

#twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #vil schoenheit x reader #queued

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xob1tchs · 6 months

Note

i litr cannot stop imagining reader and bestfriend!stiles getting so incredibly high and they’re just so horny and suddenly it’s like they can’t keep their hands (and mouths) off of each other but they’re just friends helping a friends out right :)) and it’s just cute and fluffy smut

. • °🍃✧༺ 17+ smut below cut!

it happens too quickly — shared laughter somehow morphing into quiet gasps and hurried touches.

you can feel him wrap around your whole body, when in reality his rough hands are only gripping your hips over the fabric of your skirt, fingers pressing to the dimples at the base of your spine, slipping under the fabric of your sweater.

you blink at him, oblivious to the mascara smugged beneath your lashline, and the glitter that has fallen from the paper mache butterflys above your worn out couch, dusting across your face in such a perfect way that stiles swears you can’t be real.

this is very real though – and you become all too aware of that when you feel the stiff length of his cock grow against your core. It makes you stop, nervous fingers hovering above broad shoulders, hot breath stuttering across chapped lips.

Big, sparkling brown eyes, fluffy brown hair — you can’t keep looking at him in this light, it’s creating a pounding at the back of your skull, wincing as you create space between your bodies.

“are you okay?” stiles questions, warily scanning your features, calloused hands massaging the meat of your hips, squeezing in gentle reassurance. you nod silently, but can tell he doesn’t buy it.

pressing your mouth into a thin line, you fiddle with the buttons of his plaid shirt “it’s just- we’re best friends” you blink, drying eyes forcing you to squint at his expression.

his hands glide down your hips, passing over the front of your skirt, past the hem to your knees, fingers slipping past the fabric – creeping it up your thighs, watching you through his lashes, red eyes turned glassy.

“friends, help other friends out” he smiles, thumbs ghosting against the hem of your panties.

that’s all your intoxicated mind needs to lean into his embrace and join your lips once again, moaning into his mouth, licking over his tongue, giggling at the faint taste of fruit loops and strawberry milk, shifting your hips to mesh against his, grinding your heat against his crotch. stiles pistons his hips upwards, pressing his cock right against your clit through the lace of your damp panties, you wrap your arms around his shoulders, grinding against him with more force, lips parting in a desperate pant.

“that feel good?” stiles husks, gently cooing at your slurred response, sweet expression a contrast to the pleasure building between your thighs.

you fist the fabric of his shirt, mewling when his fingers tangle in the hair at the nape of your neck, tugging on the strands gently, forcing you to look at him “you gonna cum? right here, like this?” his words carry a condescending tone, one that makes your pussy ache with need, despite the endless stream of pleasure that comes from humping over his buldge.

“yes – yes, want to cum” you nod, rutting against him more quickly, making the couch below you creak- puffs of hot air slipping past your lips with every roll of your hips.

it’s a tight knot in your stomach, coiling more and more with each passing second, until finally you reach the end of the rope – flashes of heat surging up your thighs, pasing over your shoulder blades, forcing your eyes to squeeze shut as you whine out his name.

“hope you’re not tired baby, now it’s your turn to help me”

. • °🍃✧༺ extremely unedited!

#🖤 ; lex talks 2 anons!#stiles stilinski smut #stiles smut #teen wolf smut #stiles stilinski x reader #my inbox 🫧

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papiliotao · 9 months

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꒰ 𝒂 𝒇𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒚𝒕𝒂𝒍𝒆 𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈 ✩࿐

pairing: lyney x gn!reader

content: fluff, modern au, high school au, friends to (almost) lovers, mutual pining, theatre kids, lyney and the reader rehearse a kissing scene

summary: playing the role of his lover in a drama production is easier said than done, especially when you’re just beginning to realize the nature of your feelings for him.

a/n: i had no inspiration for a while but then lyney came along. i’m so normal about him. anyway, i hope you enjoy reading!

When you were told that you had to kiss your best friend for a school play, you were in shock and disbelief — not because you were repulsed by the thought of playing the part of a couple, but because you realized that you didn’t mind the idea of his lips pressed against yours.

You’re not quite sure when the feelings crept up on you, dawning in your heart like the hazes of peach and azure that dust the horizon at sunrise. It feels like it’s been an eternity since you started loving Lyney, but you’ve just never noticed that your adoration was beyond platonic.

However, after experiencing your epiphany, you’ve been wondering if he shares your rose-tinted sentiments. Slowly but surely, you observe that the lines between friendship and romance have become blurred, fusing together in a myriad of watercolour hues.

Every once in a while, Lyney will hold your hand for no reason, the softness of his skin akin to the caress of gilded threads of sunlight. There are also instances where he’ll hug you for just a little too long, clinging onto you as if he never wants to let go. And of course, you’ll never be able to forget the sentimental nights spent gazing up at murals of sparkling constellations dotting pristine navy skies, where you cuddle with your best friend in an attempt to stay warm.

In these instances, a simple question lingers in the short silences, an untold inquiry that neither of you care to utter in fear of shattering the status quo.

What are we?

So now, as you sit across from Lyney atop the velvety cushions of his living room couch, ready to rehearse very kiss that sent you spiraling into a bout of infatuated hysteria in the first place, your heart can’t help but race. The melody it sings is one that speaks of perplexing feelings and a hope for fairytale endings, and it only amplifies as you look into pale violet eyes that sparkle as iridescent petals flutter about in their depths.

“I’m ready whenever you are,” Lyney whispers, smiling at you reassuringly. There’s something soothing about the expression on his face, embodying the serenity of a marine zephyr in the midst of a cruel summer.

“How can you be so calm when we’re about to practice a kiss?” you ask, voicing your thoughts out loud. “What if we’re not good enough?”

Truthfully, you’re a nervous wreck. Your fingers tremble, and your mind feels blank. You’ve always known that Lyney was born to be on stage, but you didn’t think he’d be so nonchalant in a situation like this. His disposition is completely composed, not a single spark of anxiety shining through his tranquil demeanour.

On the other hand, you’re constantly pondering the what ifs.

What if you mess the scene up? What if it turns out looking awkward? What if it’s so horrendous that it makes the audience uncomfortable.

However, in total contrast to you, Lyney simply chuckles, his voice ringing out in a clear and soothing fantasia.

“Don’t worry,” he reassures you, keeping his gaze fixated on you. “I’m sure our chemistry will be absolutely perfect. After all, even Lynette has mistaken us for a couple.”

“She has?” you blurt out, both shocked and embarrassed that Lyney’s twin has had her misconceptions about your relationship. The two are practically telepathically linked, so the tall order of fooling Lynette would more or less be akin to deceiving the heavens above.

“She has,” Lyney confirms, a mischievous spark of violet electricity blazing through his irises, “and that’s why I’m certain we’ll be able to pull this off flawlessly.”

He gently laces his fingers around your hand, bringing it up to his chest.

“Besides, it’s not like I’m not nervous at all.” From beneath the soft fabric of Lyney’s clothes, you can feel a gentle thrumming, a beat that resounds at a tempo matching that of your very own heart. “You know, even the greatest of performers get stage fright sometimes.”

In a mystifying twist, you feel more comfortable now that Lyney has told you that you’re not alone in your anxiousness. Your relief defies all logic, but perhaps it’s the knowledge that your feelings aren’t entirely unreasonable that soothes your nerves.

“I see,” you whisper. “Well I’m sure you’ll do great. We’ll get through this together.”

Lyney nods.

“I’m just glad it’s you,” he says, pausing for a moment as if deep in thought. “Actually, ‘glad’ would be an understatement. ‘Beyond overjoyed’ is more accurate.”

Your breath hitches, and for a second, the world seems to still, suspended in a momentary utopia. But despite your giddiness and the euphoric feelings that arise in your heart, you shrug Lyney’s words off, trying your best not to get your hopes up. After all, if you expect too much, you might find yourself disappointed in the end.

“The feeling is mutual. Although maybe we should get to rehearsing now. I think I’m ready,” you tell him, pulling your hand out of his grasp in a light motion, clinging on to the last of his warmth as his skin grazes yours. It’s reminiscent of fading sunlight comforting you with the dazzling radiance of a dying crepuscule, lulling you into a daze as it causes shades of twilight to waltz in a dance of fantastical wonders.

“Your wish is my command,” Lyney responds playfully.

However, after only a few seconds, his features shift into a more serious expression. Although the same smile adorning his lips, it’s softer now, more sincere.

Is this all part of an act, or is it real?

Additionally, an unidentifiable emotion now glints in a display of diamond lights, illuminating the seas of amethyst contained within Lyney’s eyes. Locks of platinum hair, composed of starlight essence, frame his face in a way that makes him look undeniably handsome. Once again, your heart, which had just barely stilled, begins to beat in a frenzy.

You want nothing more than to freeze time, stay in this ephemeral moment, relish in the sensation of his breath gently tickling your skin and engrave the ethereal sight before you into archives stored deep within your memories. But unfortunately, it’s impossible to pause the scene before you. Reality, unlike the countless movies and videos you’ve watched to study your part, stops for no one.

And before you know it, the divide between your lips and Lyney’s is diminishing, the blank space fading at a pace that feels both far too rapid yet far too prolonged at the same time.

Closer.

And closer.

Until your lips meet in a clash of opalescent sparks, shedding light and embellishing the magical moment with an atmosphere worthy of any stage. The lilac butterflies that dance in the pit of your stomach prompt sensations of glee to arise within your heart.

His skin is soft and warm, and the feeling of his lips against yours is just so right. There’s no one else you’d rather kiss. There’s no one else you’ll ever long for. There’s no one in the world you’ll ever love more.

No matter how much you deny it, your relationship has crossed the line from platonic to romantic, gradually edging closer and closer to a thin border before finally falling over onto the other side. Your kiss with Lyney confirms everything. There’s far too much passion, far too much care and longing exchanged in a single act of affection.

Best friends don’t kiss each other like this.

At this point you’re certain the feeling is mutual. Now, all you have to do is wait until one of you inevitably confesses, and you’ll both be able to finally live happily ever after, basking in the splendor of true love.

thank you for reading <3 if you enjoyed this fic, i would really appreciate it if you could comment or reblog!

#r.archives *ೃ༄#favoniuslibrary #astronetwrk #lyney x reader #lyney x you #lyney fluff #genshin impact x reader #genshin imagines #genshin x reader #genshin headcanons #genshin impact #genshin #genshin fanfic #genshin lyney

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slytherinslut0 · 7 months

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MATTHEO RIDDLE- Beg For Me

Chapter Fifteen-Info: You and Mattheo have been butting heads for months, since you were assigned as his tutor, and one day during a session full of tense bickering, he has enough.

(This will essentially be a toxic book where we are Theos fucktoy. No love here, very minimal fluff.)

Tags: this chapter is literally just angst. complete freakin angst. two broken hearts that refuse to acknowledge it. pretty poetical. i know i said no love but now im not so sure.

****FIND THE REST OF THE CHAPTERS HERE.

"You're coming with me, Emily," you asserted, arms crossed over your chest, your eyes narrowing at her as she was lazily sprawled out on her bed, clearly uninterested in your predicament. "There's no way in hell I'm going alone...you can bring Michael."

Emily let out a dramatic groan, her hands instinctively flying to rub her tired eyes. "But...there's a Gryffindor party that night too...we'd much rather go to-"

"Emily!" you interrupted, advancing across the room toward her bed. You leaned against the footboard, your expression pleading. "Please, please...after everything that happened with Berkshire, I'd prefer not to go back into their bloody common room by myself...plus I don't even drink! Like I don't even know-"

"Okay, okay!" Emily hastily sat up, cutting you off as she sensed your rising panic. "Gods, you're giving me a headache...I'll talk to Michael about it..."

A sigh of relief escaped you, but the tension still clung to your shoulders like a heavy cloak. You spun around, the weight of uncertainty pressing down on you as you threaded your fingers through your hair in frustration, each strand a tangible reminder of your racing thoughts.

Your mind buzzed with a whirlwind of worries. What should you wear to fit in yet not draw too much attention? How would you deflect offers of drinks without seeming rude or standoffish? And most pressing of all, how did you even find yourself entangled in this mess? The truth was, your inability to refuse others had led you down this labyrinthine path, a maze of social obligations you couldn't escape.

Emily's voice broke through the heavy silence, as delicate as the softest feathers--cautiously adjusting her tone now that she'd sensed just how stressed out you were.

"Hey, you'll be fine," she reassured, her words a gentle caress in the midst of your turmoil. "You're with Tom, he'll make sure no one bothers you, I'm positive of it."

Emily's comforting words washed over you, but beneath the surface, your thoughts spiraled into a tumultuous whirlpool. The past two weeks had been a stark contrast to the passionate chaos you'd experienced with Mattheo. Since ending things with him, your tutoring sessions had turned quiet, punctuated only by the distant echo of pages turning and the bland murmur of academic based conversations.

Although Mattheo continued to give you his full undivided attention in your sessions, the silence hung heavy between you, a reminder of the void left by your fractured connection.

And in the midst of this emotional vacuum, you found unexpected solace in Tom's company. The regular meetings continued, but they had expanded beyond the boundaries of academics. Flirting had entirely woven its way into your conversations, each playful word adding a charged tension to the air. Now, his invitation to the party on Saturday night dangled before you like a tempting, yet daunting, prospect.

However, regardless of his advances, your feelings for Tom were far from romantic. It wasn't love that stirred your heart when you thought of him, but rather a sense of obligation. The Guild, with its intricate web of social dynamics, demanded a delicate balance. To maintain your position, you felt compelled to go along with Tom's desires, to keep up the facade of mutual interest. It was a game you didn't want to play, but the stakes were too high to ignore.

As Emily's reassurances attempted to quell your anxieties, the knot of obligation tightened in your chest. The looming party represented not only a night of uncertainty but also a reluctant sacrifice to uphold your standing in the Guild. The weight of your choices pressed down on you, a reminder that sometimes, obligations could feel as suffocating as the absence of passion.

"Yeah," you responded, your voice a grumble underlined with frustration. "Talk to Michael and let me know what he says... I'm heading up to the Tower, I just need some time alone."

Emily's expression softened, sympathy flickering in her eyes. "I'll handle it," she assured you. "Take your time up there, lots of stars to count, wouldn't want to miss one because you're rushing..."

You rolled your eyes at her snark, chewing on your lip to stifle your grin. "Yeah, yeah." You said. "Thanks, Em."

With a bleak smile, you grabbed your bag and pushed out of your dorm room, mind racing as you made your way up to the tower, the castle covered in its usual blanket of darkness, given it was already past eleven pm.

You thought back to that first week of tutoring sessions after you and Mattheo had called things off, how every moment spent in his presence felt excruciating. Sitting in such close proximity to him--being forced to look into his deep, intoxicating eyes, trace the scars that adorned his skin, and fixate on those perfect lips while knowing you'd never get to be anything other than platonic was a torment for your already aching heart.

For those initial days, your mind was a battleground of conflicting emotions. Thoughts of what it had felt like to have his hands exploring your body, pulling you close against his firm frame, haunted your every waking moment. His newfound silence only served to further infuriate you, although the reasons for your frustration remained elusive--you had wanted this separation, knew you needed it more than anything, yet part of you resented how effortlessly he seemed to cast everything aside, as though it had all been a meaningless fling to him, despite the amounts of passion you'd experienced.

The internal turmoil left you in a relentless tug-of-war between contentment and bitter disappointment. With every missed touch, resentment began to coil in the pit of your stomach. Despite yearning for the way he made you feel, your chest was a maelstrom of conflicted emotions. Gratitude warred with irritation; you were thankful that your life lacked complications that could jeopardize your post-graduate career, yet infuriated that Mattheo hadn't even tried to fight for you.

It stung, the way he seemingly dismissed you as though you were just another girl, another notch on his belt, disregarding the depth of what you shared.

Or, you guessed at this point, what you thought you had shared.

As you settled into the quiet solitude of the Astronomy Tower, the vast expanse of the night sky above became your sanctuary, the stars twinkling like distant diamonds against the vast canvas of space. It was your haven, a place where you could lose yourself in the mysteries of the universe. Surrounded by your celestial charts and notebooks, you immersed yourself in your research, the quill in your hand gliding over the parchment as you recorded your observations.

In the midst of your cosmic exploration, a sudden intrusion shattered the tranquility of the Astronomy Tower. Mattheo, his presence unexpected, settled down beside you. The mere sight of him sent your pulse racing, a rapid drumbeat in your ears. You shot your head around, scanning the surroundings as though you'd forgotten where you were, your mind racing with questions. Why the fuck was he here? The unexpected encounter left you beyond shocked, your eyes wide with surprise and curiosity.

"Matt-" your voice faltered, the surprise of his presence momentarily stealing your words.

"Couldn't sleep," he muttered, his voice carrying a weight of restlessness, as if the night sky outside held answers he desperately sought. "Don't allow me to interrupt."

He cut you off before you could regain your composure, not even bothering to spare a glance in your direction. His eyes remained fixed on the stars, his silence echoing louder than any words he could have spoken. The unspoken tension between you hung in the air, heavy and palpable, a reminder of the unresolved emotions that lingered beneath the surface.

"Um, okay." You cleared your throat, attempting to steady your voice, and resolutely returned your focus to the celestial tapestry above.

The stars glittered, seemingly oblivious to the complicated tornado of emotions unfolding below. As you continued your silent analysis of the night sky, you became aware of Mattheo lighting up a cigarette. His movements were deliberate, every flicker of the lighter, every draw from the cigarette, seemed to carry a weighted significance. Despite your attempt to ignore him, you could feel his eyes on you, his gaze like a tangible presence that bore into your skin, even without direct contact. The night stretched on, the only sounds the soft crackling of burning tobacco and the occasional rustle of paper as you made notes, each moment steeped in a tense stillness, waiting for something to break the fragile equilibrium.

And then, Mattheo's voice sliced through the quiet of the night, his question hanging in the air like a challenge. "What are you even doing?"

His question caught you off guard, a shock registering in your eyes as you assumed he was merely asking to mock you. Nevertheless, you gathered your composure, your passion for your research overcoming your initial surprise.

"I'm studying how stars and planetary alignments affect magic," you explained, your words measured yet enthusiastic. "The positions of celestial bodies influence magical energies, shaping the potency of our spells. Understanding these cosmic patterns is like deciphering the universe's manual for mastering magic."

Mattheo's eyes narrowed, a hint of skepticism coloring his voice. "Stars affecting magic?" he said, his tone dismissive yet laced with a sliver of intrigue. "Seems a bit far-fetched, Raven."

His words hung in the air, laced with icy indifference, yet there was an undeniable glimmer of curiosity, a flicker of interest that betrayed his cold exterior. You met Mattheo's skepticism with a determined gaze.

"It may sound far-fetched, but it's already been proven that magic is intertwined with the cosmos," you replied, your voice steady. "The alignment of stars and planets creates unique energy patterns. Understanding these patterns can give us an edge in harnessing magic. It's not about belief, it's about tapping into the natural forces of the universe..." you let your words linger for a moment, finally dropping your quill and releasing a long sigh. "Why are you always so dismissive of everything? Don't you have dreams Mattheo, don't you have passions?"

Mattheo took a slow drag off his cigarette, the ember glowing brightly before he released a plume of smoke that danced in the air, curling and twisting like ethereal tendrils. His eyes, usually guarded, met yours, holding a glimmer of something unreadable.

"Everyone dreams, Raven," he said, flatly. "But life isn't a fucking fairytale, sometimes dreams are crushed before they're born."

Your silent reaction spoke volumes as you studied his face, the way his chocolate curls framed his brooding eyes, holding countless secrets within their depths. Mattheo's words slowly dug into your shoulders, heavy with the weight of harsh truths. You released a long sigh, the reality of his words settling in, before you cautiously spoke.

"If everything was dipped in gold, it'd never grow..." you whispered, your voice soft yet resolute, as you turned your eyes back to the stars. "And not everything sweet is sugarcoated, Mattheo...sometimes life stings, and you have to fight for what you want, but that doesn't mean you toss away the wand, does it?"

For a moment, Mattheo's silence hung heavy, punctuated only by the soft exhale of smoke curling from his lips. The tendrils of fog obscured the canvas of stars, casting a mysterious veil over the night sky. When you turned to meet his gaze, you discovered his eyes already fixed on you, their depths shimmering with an enigmatic intensity.

"Even stars burn out, Raven," he said, his voice a low, gravelly murmur that seemed to echo the somber truth of the universe. "Sometimes, there's nothing you can do but watch."

Something panged in your chest, a jolt of pain spreading through you as Mattheo's words settled into the night air. For another brief, fleeting moment, your eyes met, and there was a flicker of understanding between you. You glimpsed his lips, and he glimpsed yours, a silent exchange of unspoken sentiments.

Swiftly, you looked away, turning your attention to the moon, its silvery glow casting an ethereal light upon your face, silently gathering yourself as you fought off the heat that was swarming your cheeks.

"You know what I appreciate more than the stars?" Mattheo's voice cut through the night, a hint of intrigue in his tone as he finally shifted his gaze off of you. "The moon."

You raised an eyebrow in curiosity. "And why is that?"

"It's the one constant," Mattheo replied, his gaze fixed on the night sky. "Stars might fade, flicker, but the moon persists...it's just...there." His voice was calm, almost distant, as if he was lost in thought. "No drama, no shows...just silent influence--one that can pull an entire fucking ocean from shore to shore...that's a power that can't be diminished. Subtle, yet absolute."

You nodded slowly, your eyes meeting his in the dim light of the night. The world around you seemed to fade away as you felt your pulse increase, an unspoken tension hanging between you.

"Silent influence," you murmured, your voice thoughtful. "A power that commands without demanding, a force that shapes without shouting…I think it’s a potent reminder of strength in simplicity."

"Beauty, too," he whispered, his voice almost a caress. "A reminder of the beauty in simplicity."

The words danced around you, laden with prescribed meaning, and you couldn't shake the feeling that there was something more to this conversation, something unspoken yet deeply felt. A vast silence filled the space around you, thick with a growing tension as Mattheo's eyes, intense and unreadable, locked onto yours, their depths echoing a multitude of emotions. You felt his fingers graze against yours as they were planted on the ground next to your thigh, a subtle yet electrifying touch.

At the feeling of his flesh grazing yours, even in as something as simple as this, your breath hitched, and a rush of heat surged through your body, making every nerve ending tingle with anticipation. After two whole fucking weeks, just as you’d finally stopped moping, just as you finally felt as though you could breathe without thinking about him, it was as if the universe itself had conspired to bring you two together in this charged moment, leaving you both suspended in a space where words were unnecessary, and the raw connection between your souls spoke volumes--his hand, touching yours, this is how galaxies collide, you thought.

"It's been two weeks since you've even bothered to bloody look at me, Mattheo..." you whispered, your voice trembling like fragile autumn leaves in the wind, scared to acknowledge the reality of your situation, but knowing you needed to. "It all meant nothing to you, yeah?"

Mattheo's gaze remained unwavering, his expression stoic and seemingly emotionless as he absorbed your words. His silence spoke louder than any response he could offer, leaving you with a hollow ache in your chest. The pain of his indifference cut deep, a stark contrast to the fiery passion that once consumed both of you.

Finally, he spoke, his voice low and filled with a restrained yet undetectable emotion. "Even if I said it didn't, would it really fucking matter, Raven?"

At his words, your heart rung, realizing that no matter how desperately you clung to the fragments of what you once shared, the reality was undeniable--the passion that once ignited between you two had flickered out, leaving only smouldering embers in its wake, and there was no reason for you to be upset over it--given that this was exactly what you fucking wanted.

Yet, with a heavy heart, you turned away, your gaze fixed on the distant horizon, searching for solace in the vast expanse of the night sky. You found yourself unprepared for the intricate complexities of your current reality--finding it amusing how your parents had dutifully cautioned you about the monsters lurking under your bed and the cruelty of schoolyard bullies, but never bothered to forewarn you about the captivating chaos that a disheveled boy with pretty eyes; ones that seemed to hold the fucking galaxies in their midst, and a demeanour infused with smoke and silver-tongued eloquence, would bring into your life.

"It would matter to me, yes." Your voice quivered as you confessed, the vulnerability in your words palpable in the night air--you kept your eyes fixed out in front of you, not daring to look at him. "I haven't been able to stop thinking about you, Mattheo..."

Mattheo scoffed, pulling out another cigarette, his movements deliberate yet filled with a sense of bitterness.

"You seem perfectly happy distracting yourself with my brother," he retorted, the words laced with a harsh edge.

Frustration welled up within you, your hands rising to your face as you rubbed the tension from your eyes, trying to find the right words amidst the chaos of emotions.

"Gods, you're unbelievable...that's exactly what ruined us, Mattheo," you said, your voice firm and weary. "Your constant issues with your brother, your need to control every damn thing... I just can't decipher your fucking intentions. Whatever 'us' meant, it drowned in the chaos you brought into it."

Mattheo's expression remained unreadable, a storm of emotions flickering behind his eyes. He took a slow drag from his cigarette, exhaling the smoke calmly before he finally spoke, his words weighed down by an unspoken burden.

"Maybe some things are just meant to drown, Raven." He said, bluntly. "You and I both know that."

You met Mattheo's gaze squarely, your eyes filled with hesitation and the weight of unspoken truths--his flat dismissal of your words bothered you, sparking irritation through your veins, but you couldn't drop his prior insinuation regarding his brother--it was time you cleared that up once and for all.

"For the record," you began, your voice faltering slightly, "I don't feel anything for your brother. I never fucking did. It was never, ever about him." The confession hung heavy in the air, your heart pounding as felt as though you’d revealed a vulnerable piece of your soul. "It was always about you," you added, your voice barely above an audible whisper. "I..."

"Stop," he said, his eyes flashing with a mix of anger and desperation. His body tensed, as if bracing for an impact. "Whatever you were about to say, don't say it."

Mattheo's voice came out as a sharp command, cutting through the tension like a knife through the darkness. His words lingered in the chilled night atmosphere, a heavy barrier between you, guarding his emotions like a fortress wall. Your throat tightened, constricting like a vice around your words. Each beat of your heart felt like a war drum, its thunderous rhythm drowning out any other sound.

"Why?" You hardly croaked.

"Because," Mattheo replied, his jaw clenching with the intensity of his suppressed emotions. "There are two fucking things in life you can't take back, Raven--bullets and words.“ he paused for a moment, inhaling a sharp breath. “Always make sure you hit what you aim at, and that you mean what you fucking say.”

Mattheo's words hit you like a tidal wave, crashing against the fragile walls of your resolve. The words rolled around you, creating a unstable bridge that stretched across the chasm between your bodies, threatening to collapse under the weight of suppressed emotions--and after a moment that felt like an eternity, you exhaled, accepting his now-hardened demeanour and deciding to just drop it, you switched the subject.

"I...I was just going to say...Tom invited me to the party in your common room on Saturday," you whispered, voice trembling as much as your fingers were. "I plan on going."

Mattheo's body tensed, his jaw tightening even further, as if to mask the rising anger within him. He avoided your gaze, his fists clenching involuntarily, struggling to contain the emotions surging beneath his calm exterior.

"And do you think that's a good idea?" His words sliced through the air, sharp and pointed, echoing the turmoil within him. "Have you ever attended a party here, even once?"

You shook your head, your voice barely audible as you admitted, "No, but I can't say no to him, Mattheo...I can't jeopardize my position in the guild. I've worked so hard for it, my entire educational career..." the desperation in your tone was palpable, the weight of your responsibilities bearing down on your shoulders. "It's rather maddening how quickly I transitioned from one Riddle capable of shattering my fucking future to another...it's like I can't catch a break."

The space between you and Mattheo sat heavy with unspoken words, an abyss of silence that seemed to stretch on endlessly. The soft glow of the dim light accentuated the shadows dancing across his face, emphasizing the muffled frustration etched into his features. Each puff of his cigarette punctuated the quiet, adding to the palpable tension in the air.

"I wasn’t planning on going to that," he finally replied, his voice carrying an unusual firmness, as if he was trying to convince himself too. "I quit all that shit."

Your voice caught in your throat, shock freezing your words as you tried to process his revelation.

"You-" you began, but he cut you off, his tone flat, devoid of its usual edge.

"Drinking, drugs," he said, his eyes meeting yours with a glint of determination before he gestured towards the cigarette between his fingers. "These are next."

You struggled to find your voice, your mind racing to comprehend the magnitude of his decision. The man who had drowned himself in alcohol more times in one week than you could count on two bloody hands had fucking quit it all. It was almost impossible to believe.

"Wow," you breathed, your words laced with a mix of disbelief and exasperation. Part of you still rolled with disappointment over his absence at the upcoming event, but a flicker of hope dared to spark within you. "That's great, Mattheo...that's a huge step for you..."

Mattheo's silence hung in the air, his eyes searching your face as if seeking answers in the depths of your gaze. Time seemed to stretch, the weight of the world seemingly sitting heavy between you. With deliberate slowness, he blinked, extinguishing his cigarette on the ground beside him, never breaking eye contact.

"You're too good, Raven," he whispered, his voice surprisingly steady, resonating with a mixture of admiration and regret. "Such an angel...you should know, I was never unaware that you fucking saved me."

His words hung there, pregnant with meaning, as if he was acknowledging a debt he could never fully repay. The vulnerability in his eyes was a stark contrast to the usual stoic facade, revealing the depth of his emotions in that fleeting moment. Mattheo's gaze continued to bore into yours, his eyes intense as if he had stumbled upon something precious he couldn't bear to lose.

In a move so gentle it felt like a caress, his hand lifted to your face, his thumb tracing a feather-light path over your cheek. His voice, soft and tender, carried a weight of sincerity that resonated deep within you.

"Everything will work out..everything you've worked so fucking hard for will eventually pay off," he whispered. "I would have never deserved you."

Your stomach twisted, and your heart seemed to pound against your sternum with a deafening resonance, drowning out the world around you. You couldn’t feel your fingers or the cold or the fucking emptiness of your heart because all you could feel was him. All you could focus on was the overwhelming fucking urge to climb into his lap and kiss him until you couldn’t breathe, kiss him until the only thing embedded within the tastebuds on your tongue was his fucking taste. He is everywhere, he is everything--in every pulse of your desires and the depths of your soul, and then he whispered,

“I will be there, for you, on Saturday,” his voice was a low, husky murmur, filling you with warmth. “Just incase.”

And as he withdrew his hand from your face, the loss of his touch was like a phantom ache, a reminder of the connection you desperately fucking craved. His eyes, deep and intense, lingered on your lips for a fleeting moment, a silent testament to the desires that simmered beneath the surface. As he pulled himself up to his feet, he broke his eyes from yours, and with deliberate steps, he retreated, the distance between you growing--but just when you thought he would disappear into the night, he paused, glancing back over his shoulder.

“And to answer your question--yes, I have dreams…” his voice, laden with a mix of vulnerability and yearning, hung in the air like a fragile promise. “But they’re only good when you’re in them.”

——————-

Find sixteen->

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luciddownloading · 7 months

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Astrology Observations: Aquarius Edition 👽

🧠 Aquarius Suns, Aquarius Moons and Aquarius Risings are all specific embodiments of the Aquarius energy, but kind of go against other traits of the sign (This makes sense as Aquarians hate being stereotyped/put in a box).

Aquarius Risings are the most individualistic. NOT afraid to be different or go against the grain. Very unique energies and personalities. However, the "unemotional" stereotype does not apply here. We may appear detached, just through our face/body language, or even act a bit aloof as a defense mechanism. But, in truth, Aquarius Risings are very passionate and expressive and can also be very sensitive to others.

Aquarius Suns are the most social and people-oriented. They make all kinds of friends, wherever they go, and sacrifice a lot of their personal needs for others. Though they aren't necessarily followers, they are very happy to do whatever their friends want to do. As a result, Aquarius Suns aren't quite so nonconforming. Their weirdness is mostly in their sense of humor or life motto. Otherwise, they care a lot about social acceptance (which creates a certain inner conflict because they also feel like they shouldn't care).

Aquarius Moons are the most emotionally detached. Their feelings are often treated like a silly inconvenience to them. So, they either just brush them off or deal with them as if they are the emotions of someone else who needs good advice. As a result, their feelings continually "sneak up" on them and cause them to go a little wild/crazy and not know why. However, in contrast to the "social butterfly" description, Aquarius Moons are often very introverted or even shy. Not terribly social, very much loners, though they are good one-on-one and learn to "perform" extroversion well.

🧠 Aquarius' intuitive/psychic skills are seriously slept on. It can rival the Water signs, sometimes, especially when the Aquarius isn't too in their head. The ability to "just know" things about people and situations is unmatched. Receiving messages and insights through dreams or visions is also common.

🧠 Mars in Aquarius people typically are cool as a cucumber in situations that would make others livid and then flip OUT about things most people wouldn't even react to. Or they specialize in pissing others off, knowing the exact buttons to push, while they remain calm and collected.

🧠 The "ahead of your time" thing for Aquarius placements can manifest differently. It can mean being an artist/creative who takes a particularly long time to finally find success or recognition. It can mean telling the truth about someone or a situation and not being believed or vindicated until a few years later. Or it can just mean understanding things much more quickly than others.

In any case, you have to get used to the fact that it takes some time for others to "catch up" to you and not take it personally.

🧠 Venus in Aquarius individuals can have a polarizing effect. Those who are attracted to them adore their quirky appeal or the fact that they don't fit conventional standards. But, this is the very reason their haters feel the need to criticize them and label them unattractive.

🧠 Aquarius Moons might not exactly like children or see themselves becoming a parent (especially women with this placement) but then, out of nowhere, feel an undeniable draw toward parenthood. It truly turns their world upside down and can really help heal their inner child, which they don't have the best or most natural connection to.

🧠 Aquarius Risings always feel out of place but feel it the most among their family of origin. Either their personality or their appearance (or both) is wildly different than their other immediate relatives. They may also be the only child of their gender or the only tall one.

🧠 Those with Mercury in Aquarius tend to surprise people with their high intellect. They are unpretentious so people can underestimate their intelligence until they get going in a conversation or on a special interest. They can easily switch from being very quiet to very talkative and eloquent.

🧠 Aquarius Suns are much less flighty or flaky, socially, than their Gemini and Libra counterparts. They are a Fixed sign so they are too loyal to ghost or bail. They are still chaotic, though, and may not get back to you when you want them to. But, they eventually come through.

🧠 Although you can't label us too easily, people with Aquarius placements basically fall into one or more of these four categories: "magical, whimsical, otherworldly being", "brilliant yet scatterbrained and occasionally controversial professor", "maniac that everyone thinks is chill" and "chill person who everyone thinks is crazy".

#astrology #astro observations #astrology observations #aquarius #aquarius placements #aquarius energy #aquarius sun #aquarius moon #aquarius rising #aquarius mercury #aquarius venus #aquarius mars #aquarius stellium

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heli-writes · 2 months

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A dragon's heart, part 8.

Pairing: Barbarian!Bakugou Katsuki x female!reader

Summary: The dragonblood tribe is known for being cruel, barbarian warriors that slaughter, loot and rape all places they pass through. They are feared among the villagers and even bigger cities. Having lost most of their women to a plague, they're trying to ensure their tribe's survival by kidnapping women from other places. However, they're not the only monsters in human form out there. When y/n experiences this first hand, she has no choice but to ask for help from no other but the barbarian leader Katsuki Bakugou himself.

Disclaimer: injuries, sexism, mentions of male genitalia, orgasms and (oral) sex

[Please don't read if you are sensible to or triggered by the topics mentioned above.]

Minors do not interact.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9

Series Masterlist

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Katsuki fastens the stag at the dragon's back behind the saddle. Y/n stands beside him and secures the stag while Katsuki uses the straps to make sure that the stag doesn't fall off during the flight. She watches as Katsuki works with a grim expression on his face. More grim than usual, she thinks. She wonders why. She doesn't know that Katsuki takes her to his tribe today. He didn't even try to tell her since she wouldn't understand him anyway.

He would never admit it but he's anxious. He knows that his men will celebrate his victory. Coming home with a successful hunt. Bringing home a woman for the tribe.

Concerning the old hag, he's not so sure. His mother is one of the few remaining women in his tribe. The plague took most of the fertile women. Meaning old women past their fertile prime and young girls before their first blood survived. Leaving a whole generation of young men behind.

His mother always had very specific expectations of how Katsuki's life was supposed to take place. Becoming the tribe's leader, for example. That being said, he's not sure she will approve of him bringing home a stray female. Well, that'd be alright if he did and brought her for his men. Or for himself for a night. But definitely not as a potential mate for himself.

Suddenly, there's a warm hand on his bicep. Y/n. She must've said something to him considering how expectantly she looks at him. „What, woman?“, he spats. Y/n furrows her brow in worry. Clearly, something is upsetting Katsuki.

Y/n walks closer to him and wraps her arms around his middle and leans into him. For a second, Katsuki wants to push her away because he is annoyed. When he sees how she looks at him, he changes his mind. Soft eyes look up at him, making him dizzy.

He shifts so he can take her into his arms. He leans his forehead onto hers and takes a deep breath. He can still feel the angry feeling in his stomach. Or is it anxiety? He doesn't know. Either way, it feels like a stone lying right behind his belly button.

Y/n moves her head and meets Katsuki in a kiss. Without opening his eyes, Katsuki kisses her back. In contrast to yesterday at the bonfire, this kiss is sweet and slow. There's no fire behind it just reassurance. Katsuki doesn't realize how the stone dissolves itself.

Breaking the kiss, Katsuki looks down at y/n who places a hand on his cheek and softly strokes it. He wants to sigh and kiss her again but y/n slips out of the embrace and gets another bag that needs to be secured at the dragon's back.

Before they take to the sky, y/n takes a look at Katsuki's injury one more time. She's afraid that the wound won't heal properly with Katsuki moving around so much. Katsuki thinks it's completely unnecessary but he lets y/n fret over him for a bit. Maybe he also enjoys it a bit. When she's done, they mount the dragon.

Y/n watches their surrounding with excited eyes. Somehow, she can't get enough of watching the landscape from so high above. Katsuki does not do any stupid tricks this time and just lets her enjoy the view. Now and then, he presses a kiss to her neck which makes her feel fuzzy inside.

Slowly, but steadily the landscape starts to change. The forest areas become less and less dense and few more settlements can be spotted. The air grows cooler.

They fly for two or three hours when y/n starts to notice a painful ache in her tights. She remembers what happened last time when they flew for a longer period of time. She tries to ignore the pain until it becomes too much. She turns around and asks Katsuki to land. When he doesn't understand her, she keeps pointing to the ground.

„What, you gotta piss? I've told you to go before we left, stupid woman.“, Katsuki mumbles but gives the dragon a sign to land.

After the dragon touches land, Katsuki helps y/n down. He notices how her movements are stiff. He touches her legs and notice how cool she's gotten. He scrambles for some clothes when y/n wobbles behind a tree.

There, she lifts her dress and looks at her tights. There are blisters forming and there are fine tears in her skin. „Fuck.“, she mumbles.

„Fuck?“, Katsuki's amused voice says behind her.

Y/n drops her skirt and turns around. Dramatically, she rolls his eyes to make it clear what she thinks of that comment. She's sure as hell that Katsuki has a foul mouth. He shouldn't make fun of her when she uses a swear word here and then.

„You done?“, he says putting his hand on his hips. Wordlessly, y/n wobbles back to the dragon and looks for the medicine bag. Katsuki watches her closely, not getting why she needs wound dressing.

„You stay here“, y/n tells him, „Don't look.“

She wobbles behind the dragon and sits down carefully she looks for the rash cream and some bandages. Katsuki follows her closely behind.

„Go away!“, she tells him and waves her hand. Katsuki picks up one of the bandages.

„Why do you need those? Are you hurt or what?“, he asks. Y/n gives him a mean look and keeps pointing behind the dragon.

When Katsuki doesn't move, y/n sighs in defeat. It's not like he will see anything inappropriate. It's just legs after all, y/n tells herself and starts ruffling up her skirt.

Katsuki's eyes widen when he realizes why y/n wanted him to leave. However, he does not show any signs of moving away. Instead, he very intensely stares up y/n's naked leg. Y/n makes sure lady parts are covered but can't help feeling embarrassed by Katsuki's stares. He must know this intimate. Especially when she has to prop up and spread one leg in order to get to the wound.

In all honesty, very indecent thoughts run through Katsuki's mind when he sees y/n in this position. That is until he sees the wounds on y/n's thighs. Immediately, he steps closer, kneels down and grabs y/n's knee hollow pushing her leg further apart. Y/n yelps as she almost loses balance.

Katsuki inspects the wound. „Rider's rash.“, he determines. Not uncommon if you ride a horse or dragon without proper clothes. Y/n's dress definitely falls under the category of improper clothes for riding. Katsuki wants to scold himself. He should've thought of this. It's not like y/n had any other choice but to ride with the clothes on her back since she had no others.

Katsuki lets go off her leg and grabs the rash cream.

„I-it's fine! I can do that myself!“, y/n says jittery and tries to grab the cream out of Katsuki's hand. She really doesn't want him to touch her anywhere near there. No, that's wrong. She definitely wants that but not now and not here.

Katsuki just swats her hand away and takes a big goop of cream. Carefully, he spreads her leg again applying the cream onto the wound. While he's very concentrated on treating the wound, he's also painfully aware of how close he is to the place his men would kill for. When the cream is applied he wraps a bandage around it. Without asking, he checks y/n's other leg and repeats the process.

Meanwhile, y/n's face burns in a bright red.

Once he's done, he lets go of her and pulls her skirt over her legs again. A gesture that y/n appreciates. Then, he rumbles through a bag and gets another pair of pants. It's shorter than the one he wears. He helps y/n into the pants and y/n stuffs her dress into the pants trying to use the fabric as a cushion for the wounds that already formed. Katsuki also wraps his cape around her shoulder and arms.

Then, it's time to fly again.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

They fly for the rest of the day. Only taking a quick pee break in between. While y/n is fascinated by the view for a while, she eventually grows tired. At some point, she leans back and rests her head against Katsuki's shoulder. He lets her because he knows how tiring flying can be to an untrained body. He remembers how beat he was after his first few flying lessons.

When the mighty Bear Fang Mountains come into view, Katsuki nudges y/n awake. Actually, she bolts awake and when she remembers where she is, she immediately clings to Katsuki's arms for balance.

„Wow“, she breathes at the sight in front of her. A large mountain range opens up in front of them. Are we flying lower or are these mountains higher than we fly?, she thinks.

„We call them Iron Peaks“, Katsuki tells her. He points along the range of mountains and repeats: „Iron Peaks“. Y/n follows the motion of his finger and mumbles: „Iron Peaks“. Katsuki corrects her pronunciation and y/n repeats the words until she feels Katsuki nod behind her.

Katsuki takes her hand and uses her index finger to point to a mountain to the right of them. „There's my home. There's where we're going. Back home.“, he tells her. Again, y/n repeats the last word Katsuki utters and he nods approvingly.

„Yes, we're going home.“, he mumbles into her hair.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

It's not long before the dragon starts flying lower and a settlement comes into sight. Y/n instantly recognizes how it looks different from the settlements in the kingdom. The settlement is made of tents instead of brick houses. Suddenly, a feeling of nostalgia hits her. While most villages in the kingdom were assembled out of brick houses, that's not where the wandering folk lived in.

Her people also lived in tents. Portable homes that can be set up anytime anywhere. And, of course, one cannot be struck dead by falling stones. Just the sight of the arrangement of tents makes her think of her people, her parents, and her childhood. Her heart aches and she can feel tears pricking in her eyes. Quickly she rubs them away and hopes that Katsuki mistakes them as the result of the cold wind piercing her eyes. She really can't wait to sleep in comfortable leather walls again.

Katsuki's mind is too busy to notice y/n's tears. He's growing more tense with each passing second.

The dragon approaches landing and y/n can make out human figures in between the tents. When the dragon's feet stand firm on the ground, a bunch of rough-looking men walk towards the dragon with loud roaring. For a second, y/n thinks the men are going to attack them until Katsuki lets out a triumphant howl in return.

Katsuki jumps from the dragon and his men immediately tackle him. Katsuki laughs and shoves the men away playfully. Y/n feels awkward watching him greet his friends from atop the dragon, so she carefully demounts the dragon by herself. The motion grabs the men's attention.

„A woman?“, a blonde man says with his eyes as big as saucers. „I thought you wanted to go hunting. You should've taken us with you when you planned to raid a place!“, another man complaints. Katsuki shoves him roughly.

„I wasn't on a raid, you dumb fucks. Basically, found that one roaming the woods.“, he tells them.

„Our chief is a lucky one then, heh?“, the blonde grins, „Is she a good fuck? Or you kept her decent so one of us can have her?“.

Katsuki shoots the blonde an angry glare. „Shut the fuck up, Denki. That one's mine, you got that.“, he growls.

The blonde named Denki raises his hands in defeat. „Alright, chief. But what will your mother say about that?“, Denki teases. Katsuki stomps his feet.

„I'm chief and that old hag needs to bow to my decisions.“, he shoots back.

It doesn't go unnoticed by him how his men exchange uncertain glances. While Katsuki took over the regiment a few years ago, the former chief of the tribe, his mother, still holds a certain power over people.

Y/n walks closer to the men and gives the men uncertain smiles.

„Why is she dressed like this?“

„She's so small. You sure she's gonna make it around here? Their kind is not known for being mountain-weather-resistant.“

„Are her boobs big? And her hips wide enough?“

The men swarm her trying to get a good look at her. Y/n feels really uncomfortable and, by the way the men look at her, she's worried they'll try to tear the clothes off of her.

Katsuki steps in between them. „Y'all shut the fuck up. Get your asses to work. Unload the dragon, and take care of the stag! Tonight we feast!“, he yells at them and grabs y/n's arm.

The men get to work and Katsuki wordlessly drags y/n behind him deeper into the settlement. More men wait outside their tents. Upon seeing Katsuki's angry face, they decide against greeting their leader. Nobody wants to deal with Katsuki in a bad mood. They also oogle at the woman at his side.

Y/n searches for women among them to no avail. Where are they?, she wonders. Do they stay in the tents? Are they with the kids?

She doesn't find an answer to her question. Then, Katsuki arrives at his destination. A large, painted tent in the middle of the settlement. There's a small brick hut attached to its side. One of the only stone constructions y/n spotted so far.

Katsuki leads her inside. Once inside, he lets go of her arms and throws the knife he was holding onto a table at the side. Y/n looks around carefully.

There's a large bed with furs and other blankets in the middle of the room. There are multiple wooden chests on the side of the tent.

There is a small table and two chairs on the other side. And there are weapons. A lot of them. Hanging from the ceiling. In buckets on the ground. Thrown carelessly onto the trunks.

Y/n is pretty sure that this must be Katsuki's tent.

"Y/n", Katsuki says sternly. Y/n turns around carefully. Katsuki says something that sounds like an order and y/n stares at him with furrowed brows. We really have to work on this language thing, she thinks to herself while shrugging helplessly to make him see that she doesn't understand a thing.

Katsuki sighs. He grabs her arm and pulls her to the side of the tent. Behind the table, there is an opening in the tent that is closed off with another piece of leather. Pulling it away, Katsuki reveals the entrance to the small brick hut y/n saw from the outside.

He pulls her inside and a sort of bathroom comes into sight. It's sparsely furnished but has everything that is needed. In the middle of the hut is a bathtub that is already filled with steaming water.

Katsuki points at her, then the water and says: "Bath!". Y/n nods and repeats the words. Katsuki nods and turns to leave.

The hot water feels good on y/n's skin. The cool mountain air already cooled down y/n's body and she's glad she can warm herself up a bit. Also, she hasn't washed herself since before the festival at the village. Now that she thinks about it, she must really stink. She wonders if Katsuki noticed.

Embarrassed, she scrubs her skin until it is burning. Katsuki's tribe must not care too much about smells at least there are no nice soaps or scented oils in the bathroom. Just an odorless curd soap. After y/n dried herself off, she wished she had some of that bee wax lotion that her mother made. Her mother always put some lavender oil in it which y/n find quite relaxing.

When she's done, she wraps the towel she found in the hut around her body. She doesn't want to put on her old dress since it's all sweaty and gross.

Katsuki isn't in the tent when she returns. She sits down on the bed while she waits for him. When she grows cold again, she loses the wet towel and wraps herself in one of the blankets.

After a while, the opening to the tent is lifted and Katsuki steps back into the room. He acknowledges her with a curt nod.

Y/n hops off the bed wrapped in the blanket. "Can I borrow some clothes from you?", she asks him. When she sees he doesn't understand, she holds up her dress and repeats: "Clothes?".

"Clothes?", he repeats and looks at the dress and then at her. Y/n can see the wheels in Katsuki's head turning. Suddenly, his eyes widen and he looks at the dress and then at her in realization.

The realization is that y/n is naked underneath the blanket.

Katsuki swallows hard. There's a naked woman wrapped in his blanket in his tent. Quickly, he tries to shake off the thought. He starts rummaging through the chests for some clothes for her.

He finds a woolen shirt and linen pants. He doesn't have any female clothes and he makes a note to get some for her tomorrow.

Katsuki throws the clothes at y/n and y/n almost drops the blanket. Katsuki wishes she would drop it. He's curious about how she looks naked. So, he tries his luck and keeps looking at her expectantly. Maybe she'll change in front of him.

She doesn't. Actually, Katsuki staring at her makes her a bit angry. It's rude, she thinks. "Turn around!", she tells him and makes a rotating movement with her index finger.

Katsuki waits another moment in hopes she will change her mind but then turns around. It takes all the self-restraint he possesses not to peek.

When he feels her hand on his arm, he turns around again.

"Socks?", y/n asks and shows him her naked feet and Katsuki scrambles for some socks. The socks are way too big for y/n but they are thicker than her own socks.

Y/n feels a lot better now that she wears some fresh clothes even though she must look ridiculous since the clothes are way too big for her and not something a woman would ever wear.

Katsuki however can't take his eyes off her. He hasn't taken her on as his mate yet and the fact that she wears his clothes is so... intimate to him. Like she's already his.

Y/n wraps the blanket around herself again since it's still way too cold for her in the tent. Katsuki leads her to the bed and makes her sit down.

He looks at her for a moment and pets her head for a second before telling her: "Stay here".

Y/n sighs deeply. She already learned what "stay" means. He must've told her a thousand times already. But, she doesn't complain.

She's tired and not in the mood to be confronted with his strange men outside. She just nods at him and lays down. Katsuki tucks her in and presses a kiss to her forehead.

When Katsuki leaves, it doesn't take long before y/n's eyes get droopy and she slips into a slumber.

Somewhen when the sun's already down, she is woken up by loud yelling outside. There are sounds of a celebration but y/n is too tired to care. She just pulls a pillow over her head and goes back to sleep again.

She's woken up roughly by Katsuki shaking her uninjured shoulder. He holds a steaming plate into her face.

Suddenly, y/n is awake in a second. Her stomach is grumbling. While y/n eats, Katsuki disappears into the stone hut.

The food is delicious. It's the stag meat and some form of mashed potatoes but spicier. While y/n eats, she notices how quiet it has gotten outside.

Seems like the party's over, she thinks when Katsuki returns to the main room again.

The food almost falls out of y/n's mouth.

He's naked. Absolutely butt-naked. He's not even trying to hide his manhood.

Y/n throws a pillow at him.

"What?", Katsuki snarks and y/n throws another pillow at him.

When he turns fully around at her to scold her for throwing things at him, y/n slaps her hands in front of her eyes.

"Tsk", Katsuki exclaims but has to hide his grin, "What? Did you expect me to act all innocent like you? This is my home, y'know. Also, you should get used to it!"

Y/n doesn't move until Katsuki puts on some proper clothes (which for him is thin linen pants and that's it) and even then her face is still burning red.

Katsuki lays down next to her and props up his head. Even though y/n's appetite is dimmed after the naked encounter, she finishes the plate to not seem ungrateful.

After she's put the plate away on the table, Katsuki grabs her waist when she returns to his bed. While it takes y/n by surprise, she doesn't fight it. Before she knows it, she's pinned beneath him and his lips are on hers.

Katsuki kisses her feverishly, starved even. As if he's been waiting all evening to kiss her. Which, to be fair, he did. The action overwhelms y/n for a second but when Katsuki doesn't pull back and y/n wraps her head around it, she kisses back.

Katsuki lets his hands wander. He avoids any body parts that get him hit with a pillow, at least for now. Y/n mirrors his actions and runs her hands up and down his arms and back.

Katsuki forces his tongue into y/n's mouth which she gladly accepts. With a dizzy head, she acknowledges that Katsuki is an extremely good kisser. At least to her. Not that she kissed that many people before.

When Katsuki starts pressing open-mouthed kisses onto her neck and collarbone, y/n lets out a breathy sigh. Katsuki's mouth and hands on her just feel too good.

While Katsuki's dick has been hard before this, it jumps at the sound y/n makes.

There's nothing more in the world he wants right now than tearing the clothes off of her and exploring every inch of her body with his mouth.

He knows it's off-limit until they become mates and for a second he contemplates if making her come on his tongue really breaks the rules since he's technically not mating her. He decides not to test the rage of the gods.

He detaches from her neck and rolls over facing her. Y/n is left lying on her back, breathing heavily.

"You asshole", she tells him and Katsuki has to laugh.

She turns to him and Katsuki opens his arms to her. Y/n crawls into his embrace while Katsuki pulls a heavy blanket over both of them.

For a while, they lay in silence. Katsuki strokes over y/n's back and presses a kiss onto her forehead every now and then. Somewhen Katsuki's movements become slower and eventually, they stop.

He must've fallen asleep, y/n thinks. Meanwhile, she's wide awake. She snuggles deeper into Katsuki's chest and listens to his soft, steady breathing.

Somehow, she feels at ease. Even though she's been brought to this place and its strange men. She should probably feel anxious about what happens tomorrow but she can't find it in her to stress out about it.

All thoughts eventually spin back to Katsuki and how she's sure that whatever happens, Katsuki will protect her.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

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eldritch-spouse · 9 days

Note

I'd give almost anything to be squished between Vesper and Santi.

[You'll give your holes, that's for sure. Fem reader.]

" Are you sure I'm ready? "

Santi watches you squirm in place, picking and plucking at an outfit that shows more skin than anything you've ever put on before. He assured you, several times, that by the standards of Lust you're being very conservative.

The incubus rolls his eyes for what feels like the hundredth time, but tries to be patient. After all, going to Hell, even if just for a little visit, isn't something all humans treat casually. Especially not his darling match, poor thing that you are, so ignorant of his origins, his nature. Visiting the King of Lust specifically is twofold the stress for your little head, he must imagine.

" And why wouldn't you be, love? "

You huff.

" I... I don't know... What if I get nervous and say something really stupid? This is a -What did you call them?- An Icon of Hell, I can't be making a fool of myself- "

" Dearest. " The dark demonoid interrupts, lifting himself off a lush bed to stand behind your figure in the mirror. " Vesper may be a King, but he's also my friend. I only want him to know about us, you're going to do just fine. "

Averting your gaze from his, your lips are still firmly set in a frown.

Santi whispers sweetly. " Don't you trust me? "

" Y- Yes. "

There's a grin. He plays with the hem of your scarce top enough to let a nipple flash for a lurid second.

" Then do this one favor for me, I promise you'll like him. He's quite the character. " Understatement.

He can hear your heartbeat pound inside the vehicle.

The trip through his birth Ring has been uneventful for the most part. It could only have been that. You may be considered fresh meat by his kin that inhabit this particular zone of Hell, but you're accompanied by a high-ranker and being escorted in a limousine sporting the royal insignia.

No one would dare interfere.

It doesn't stop the curious glances, the oohs and aahs, or the sights Lust often has on display. The streets are an open ground for depravity, it's very standard to watch pairs and groups of demonoids crawling over each other in a cacophony of moans, humans and monsters alike giving into their carnal whims, lewd smiles on their faces as they're paraded in fetish gear and shown off like the prizes many of them are.

Santi watches your scandalized expressions as you nearly fog up the window in morbid curiosity.

" S- Santi! "

" Mm? "

" They're- Oh lord, they're tied to a post Santi! "

He arches a brow, fingers ceasing their casual groping of your thighs to glance out, seeing some poor sod of a human tied to a street post by the wrists. They look disheveled and pant in exertion, sweaty, infernal obscenities scribbled on their skin while gratuitous amounts of seed ooze out of their orifices. They lean on the post for support.

" Oh, the poor thing- " He jests, failing to keep straight-faced at your glare. " They're going to keel over! "

The fiend who had just finished using the community cumdump gives them a loving pat on the head and reaches from a bag to offer the human water. The two appear to be chatting idly. Santi watches confusion etch itself in your pretty complexion at the contrast of the human's bruised, exhausted state and the care they're shown by the one you recognize as an assailant.

The nature of Lust is conflicting.

It's oftentimes hard to tell whether or not someone is here of their own volition, partaking and letting go because they decided to, or because they caved under the Ring's influence and began to enjoy their unfortunate demise.

Some people argue that Lust is the most merciful Ring of Hell for those that get dragged into the annex, because while you may lose yourself, your last lucid moments are spent in utter bliss, and that bliss is what you'll know from henceforth. Others argue that Lust offers the ultimate humiliation of the soul, turning you into a beast of the flesh that craves only to use and be used.

Santi doesn't quite care. The end result is always the same, everyone enjoys themselves here.

Deciding that perhaps it's best not to let you get too into your own head, the incubus looms behind your concentrated figure and plants soft kisses on the back of your neck, gently coaxing you to turn around so he can pull you into his lap and shower you in idle affections.

" Santi... " You start while he kisses the back of your hand.

" Yes, love? "

" How did you and the King meet? "

What a question.

He doesn't want to think too much about those days, that past which seems so distant yet not at all. He was someone else, back then. Someone harsher, someone you wouldn't have fancied, someone who'd make you quake in fear even if your loins sang. He wouldn't have been able to appreciate you for the treasure that you are, during that period. You deserve more than that, you're worth the world and all its pleasures.

" I don't remember all that well anymore, but I know it was during a party, sweetness. " He vaguely replies.

" An orgy. " You correct him, having started to put two and two together about the cultural cues of a concubus' speech.

" Same thing. " Santi counters, knowing very well there's a difference.

A silence settles for a brief couple of moments where the incubus gets to close his eyes and bask in the comfort of your perfect form, feeling your every muscle twitch against him, the hitch of your breath as arousal has yet to fade from your system.

He's doing this intentionally.

For things to go well today, it's ideal for you to always be somewhat stimulated. Plus, he's always loved watching you writhe and try to conceal your own desires. Not as much as Santi adores seeing you boldly demand he do obscenities to you. For you. To please you.

" You used to live here before, right? "

" Mhmm... " He hums smoothly.

" What made you want to leave Hell? "

Santi halts, gathering his thoughts, coming up with a decently abstract yet still valid answer.

" I wasn't happy with myself back then, love. I figured a change of scenery couldn't hurt. "

Half-truths, oh bittersweet as they are, he almost doesn't feel bad when you smile your blind acceptance.

" I'm glad you decided to leave. "

The monster's heart stirs in its confines.

" What, you wouldn't want to move in here? The heart of Lust? " Santi mocks.

" Fuck no- "

And he cackles.

You've entered mansion grounds.

This sly-eyed imp with pointed hair introduced himself as King Vesper's head imp, and has been escorting you two through the halls of the royal mansion so far.

If you had to describe the place, you'd call it deceptive.

Deceptively ornate. Suspiciously calm. Questioningly beautiful.

There's something amiss, is a better way to put the vibe of this location.

Varying shades of pink fade invitingly into purples and reds that seem to comfort and beckon. Many were the gold-swirled corners and turns that you peered into momentarily before returning to following the guide. The furniture and décor is just standardly royal enough to make you wonder if many of the set ups are meant to be as phallic and yonic as they seem. You could swear one of the walls had patterns carved into it that resembled the vulvas of countless individuals. A statue was poised just suggestively enough that it resembled malehood. Many are the paintings and figurines scattered across walls and vases depicting pairs and groups of lovers entangled in dirty yet passionate acts. Are the objects on the shelves meant to be sex toys or just peculiarly shaped abstract figurines?

When passing by what Lacai called the "Hall of His Majesty's Favorite Commissions", Santi covered your eyes occasionally. As far as you could tell, it appeared to be furnished with many differently styled depictions of Vesper's raunchy adventures with a plethora of his attractive playmates. You trust Santi's judgement that maybe some of them are too potent for the human eye.

Since the moment you set foot here, your grip on the dark incubus' hand has been iron-like, trying to siphon some of his calmness. Santi looks absolutely enamored with some of the design choices present, making you wonder if maybe he'll do some tweaking to your living space later.

" And we've arrived. " The imp, previously idly chatting with your lover, exclaims.

Two incredibly tall doors separate you three from whatever lies beyond. Infernal is engraved in them, statements you can't discern, stylized in a type of perfect, gentle cursive and accompanied by sculpted tendrils embracing the torsos of emerging demonoid figures sporting androgynous builds.

You can't help but get lost in the expressions of such visceral bliss captured in their faces. They appear to be molds, almost. Alive. Suffering the torments of eternal pleasures. Grotesque, beautiful. Maybe you really are Santi's match after all... Or maybe that's this sweet smell you've been drowning in for a while getting into your head.

" King Vesper will welcome you shortly, if you need anything, do scream my name. "

A wink, directed at both of you, and the head servant is gone, slinking back into the previous halls without a moment's notice.

Perhaps your gulp was a little too loud.

" Deep breaths, you know what's going to happen- " Santi pulls you into a big-titted hug, rubbing your goosebump-riddled skin. " No need to sweat about it. "

Much more easily said than done.

Chuckling and giggling is heard from the other end of the doors.

" There there, all set to rights, head on out honey. "

One of the massive doors parts forward, and a small hand struggles to find balance upon it. A grayish monster woman emerges, shaky, glazed eyes unaware of either of you. She tries to rearrange her fur and tuck loose tufts into her clumsily worn suit, but only succeeds in nearly wobbling to the floor. The stacks of paper and cases under her right arm tell you that this woman came here for some kind of diplomatic task, and probably didn't get much done...

Santi politely helps the lady step forward, unable to wipe away the only slightly mocking grin on his face.

" Do come again, I believe our business isn't quite complete! "

The same voice calls.

It's hard to describe it. Strong, potent, undeniably demanding of everyone's attention to a scary degree, but also loving, desperate, begging you to listen, to come closer. Velveteen reverence and the authority of someone who can take it away from you in the snap of a finger, a tempter, a lover, a challenger.

You don't need to think too hard to understand whose voice that is.

The poor woman mumbles some kind of exasperated farewell before she too disappears into the same halls Lacai had left through.

You recall a conversation about royal etiquette you had earlier with Santi. When the King of Lust accepts a request for a meeting, even if he's not being summoned, it's considered polite and common sense to also bring him something to eat. This meal could come in the form of a second person, or the requester themself. You suppose you know the choice the monster girl made.

" Next please! "

A shudder wracks its way down your body, but a firm warm hand on the small of your back prevents you from stepping back.

You're guided forward, into what appears to be a lavish lounge room, sharing the same inviting tonalities from before. Big couches and beds and tall mirrors with rails and steps spread across the room, even what you think is meant to be a pretty discreet altar in the middle, disguised as an artistic design choice. A neatly arranged table is set up next to a balcony, half obscured by darkened curtains. A great chaise lounge is clearly meant for your majesty, the other smaller two are meant for guests obviously.

The two of you stand politely at the entrance, waiting for acknowledgment, and the odor permeating this room is so intensely thick it feels like it's dripping into your skull, caressing every inch of you.

Alarmingly, your skin becomes feverish and you gasp for much needed air, feeling the peaks of your tits perk immediately, a rush of blood flying to your nethers. You feel the overwhelming urge to drop your already light clothes and throw yourself into one of the many soft cloths offered.

Santi too sniffs and rumbles at the atmosphere, no doubt incensed by the scent of what might have transpired only moments earlier. Although he's much more in control of himself than you, a gentle touch guiding you back into focusing on the present. You thumb at the bracelet he gave you, the one that presses into the inside of your wrist, dispensing a countering substance into the thin sheet of skin there.

Said substance is the only thing that's keeping you from crawling on the floor like a dog in heat.

A large, flowing tail swishes, and the two of you finally have the composure to glance right, met with the visage of King Vesper, naked as the day he was spat onto Hell, grabbing belongings from a fancy cabinet. When he turns around, your breath catches.

It's not entirely news to you. Santi described him to you, and Vesper has got to be the Icon of Hell who most desires to be seen by everyone, so you knew he was pink, voluptuous and fluffy in a few sections.

But seeing him in person is a whole other matter. It doesn't compare to any detailed descriptions.

Only Santi has managed to captivate you more intensely than the demonlord standing before you. It's... Well, if you had to try to put it into words, when you gaze into those big, predatory magenta eyes, it's like the shock of when you first glanced at Santi- But without the warmth in your chest.

No, this here is just warmth in your loins.

No soul in Heaven or Hell is stopping your eyes from dancing all over Vesper's body. From flowing tendrils to piercing pinks, heart-shaped nipples, golden chains, neatly-arranged fluff and thighs for days, a second mouth grinning at the two of you- There's so much to focus on, so much to ogle, that your sight nearly crosses for a moment.

He's a lot.

It's hard to steady your breathing.

Eventually, you notice those purpled claws are holding onto a spiral-shafted bottle and three miss wine glasses. You don't know what's inside the bottle, but it looks like a regular wine.

" Your Majesty- "

" Vesper, Santi. We've been over this. " The Icon frowns.

" Vesper. Long time no see. " Your incubus smiles, a slight wag of the tail behind him.

In contrast, the Icon's entire head tendril curls with happiness. " Oh say less! Much too long! And after this news, I would drag you here myself if you refused my invite. "

Santi nods with an expression that clearly shows he doesn't doubt the King one bit.

Suddenly, the ruler's gaze snaps to you, like a hawk spotting its lunch a mile away. He bends, much too close, invading, before grabbing smoothly onto your left hand. This close, you can smell the lush, almost floral scent coming from what must be that mane around his neck.

" And where have my manners fled- You must be this harlot's one and only match, the human I've so been aching to meet. " A thumb runs across your knuckles.

" Hhh- Hello- It's a pleasure, your majesty. "

Brilliant. Flawless. You definitely didn't choke up like a cat trying to cough up a hairball. Santi chuckles, introducing your name to the monarch, who licks his lips.

" You may recognize me as a King, but just as I said to Santi, tonight you know me not as a ruler, but a friend. A lover, even. " The last part swooned dreamily, planting facetious suggestions.

Then, he does something you should have seen coming. Should have remembered, actually, but even knowing what was about to transpire, no one could blame you for blanking.

Gleefully, the Icon reaches down across his own figure, hands drifting along his front to grope and paw at his fattened slit. It looks good enough to make you want to shove your whole face in there, and frankly that might be the intended effect. In mere practiced seconds, Vesper's cocks proudly slide out.

To say he's hung is an understatement, but he wouldn't be the King of Lust if he didn't sport a trial of willpower between his legs. Two of them, actually. Ringed and slick, with this restless tentacle poking and prodding between them, occasionally latching onto one of those lengths before switching to the other like its indecisive. You can appreciate the pigment of his cocks, which is a weird thing to say but true nonetheless. It makes you wonder how they'd look stained by the wetness of your puffed cunt.

More than gawk, you huff some kind of bewildered animal noise, hues flickering between the Lord's own and Santi's face. When Santi kneels, so do you, blinking as Vesper grows half-hard in a twitch or two.

The lump in your throat won't go down while you observe Santi lean forward and chastely kiss the tip of Vesper's right cock, before swirling his tongue around the head as best as he can and leaning back. He made that look like the most erotic thing you've ever seen, seemingly unbothered by the effect that view had on you when he expectantly beckons you to tend to the spare member.

Nowhere near as charming as a concubus, your small lips tremble when you close your eyes and lean in to imitate the act, cheeks aflame. This will be the first person you've put your lips upon after having started a relationship with Santi. You decide not to think too hard about it. A small peck is planted against Vesper's length, and the shudder that rocks your body afterwards has you exhaling hard through your nose. Although you glance at Santi for approval, he smiles and arches a brow as if to tell you that you're not quite done yet. The cock hovering in front of you flexes and you understand you're going to have to put some heart into it.

By the time you decide to try and swirl your small tongue around the King's tip, he's already beading in excitement, the view of a still somewhat timid human trying to appease him probably doing something for the demonlord.

It's messy. You have to turn your head and put more effort into it than Santi, ever practiced, did. Unfortunately, Vesper tastes almost as good as the other incubus next to you, so even if you're struggling, it's hard to let go. You could suck at him all day if it meant keeping that taste on your tongue.

Eventually, when you do pull away, a string of precum follows, snapping onto your chin and making you try to clean it away with your fingers. A bad idea, they're sticky now. Thankfully, Santi is there to lick them clean for you, winking to let you know you did a good job.

" I do so love making new acquaintances. " Vesper seems to ebb satisfaction. He doesn't bother with his exposed malehood and motions over to the chaise lounge area. " Please, both of you, sit. Talk with me. "

And you do. Of course you do. Your legs might eventually give out if you don't.

The King gracefully splays himself on his seat, uncorking the bottle with his index claw and placing the three differently sized glasses onto the table. You and Santi sit closely on one of the opposite chaises lounges.

" Can I get you lovebirds some temptation rouge? " He purrs, beginning to pour the drinks anyway.

Santi nods. " I'll have some. None for the lady, please. "

Vesper pauses his pouring, the alluring stream of purplish delight fading enough to allow you to focus.

He frowns. " Oh come now. "

The high-ranker doesn't budge. " Vesper, this isn't something humans should- "

" Mmm really? I recall you offering it quite generously. " The King taps idly at the shaft of the bottle, his tone petty.

The black-horned demon offers a look that begs Vesper not to push on the matter, which is apparently met with mercy.

" But I understand, you're in love, the world has a different hue. "

" Yes... You couldn't guess how distinct. "

Not quite deciphering the exchange the two fiends had, you choose to speak up when Vesper inches Santi's drink his way.

" I can have some. "

Santi shoots you a look. " No. No, that's silly- "

Santi's tense, sighing.

But a large paw has already been raised. " Hush! The lady has spoken, and who are we to deny her? "

" Surely, just one sip is alright. Besides, she's a virgin of Lust, let her enjoy some of my land's exquisite offerings. "

You watch the King pour half a glass for you. You're no virgin, how could you be with Santi by your side? Though saying that someone is a virgin in Lust generally means that it's their first time visiting the Ring.

You spot a muscle on Santi's arm twitch when you cautiously grab the miss wine cup. You know the contents within are likely a very potent aphrodisiac, perhaps a psychostimulant, something that'll make you trip balls essentially. After all, concubi don't drink or eat out of necessity, so this clearly has a use.

" Thank you. " Santi responds, a bit flatter.

Reclining on the seat, the Icon sips out of his glass, the mouth on his stomach licking its chops at the shared taste. A tail flicks, you note that he's been idly stimulated this entire time by the tendrils still squirming between his two dicks.

" So, tell me sweetheart, what do you think of my Ring so far? "

You hope he didn't catch you staring, but that face says it all.

" It's... " You have to think for a second, finding it difficult to articulate a plethora of mixed feelings.

" Freeing, in a strange kind of way. " You trace the rim of the glass. " It's still Hell, still scary, and I don't understand much of what I see out there... But I wish- " Your cheeks grow warmer. " I wish sometimes... That I could join. "

When you look back up, Vesper is grinning, this very amused glint in those magenta pools. " Mhmm, an honest response. I appreciate it. "

You smile politely in return.

Conversation unfurls easily afterwards as both demons partake of the rouge, their faces darken with time and they seem to sway the slightest amount, bodies restless. When you take your first sample of wine, the room is already thick with a scent you've grown to understand means hungry concubi are looming around.

Pungent. Thin but so sweet that it seeps into every pore in a wave of fruity warmth beckoning more and more of its sampler's attention. You'd have this for breakfast, for lunch and for dinner, quickly turning into some shameless alcoholic. It's of little surprise that all of Hell's confectionary is as addictive as it is to humans, that's how fiendkind tends to assert their power over other species. You suppose Lust, as the Ring of desire, has a particular ease creating concoctions of great addictive power.

Your idle reckoning is entirely derailed by the jolt of wetness from your loins, something you expected but couldn't calculate the intensity of, throat burning as you clumsily choke down the whore noise that wanted to flow forth. Maybe you drank too much at a time? How can those two have several glasses of this and look only mildly buzzed?!

Right on cue, Santi reaches to pluck the glass out of your hands. " Aaand that's enough for you. "

" Hah, oh the poor thing! You know that's properly aged, honey, try not to waste it. "

An embarrassing amount of time clearing your throat later, the King pipes up again.

" Ah, I've been meaning to ask, what is it like? " He waves a hand, his head tendril wraps around it fluidly, allowing the demonlord to toy with it.

" The sex? " Santi prods.

" No, the fighting- Of course I'm talking about the sex, you bumbling slut! "

The incubus straightens, eager to talk. " Oh, well- "

" Nuh-uh, quiet. " Vesper's tail nudges Santi into silence. " I know that part. Oh, sex with a perfect match is like pure ambrosia, it's the richest source of energy, a taste so delectable it fries you harder than the cocktail of an orgy of kissless virgins! You can never go back and you'll never have an experience half as pleasurable, it's the greatest gift a concubus can have but also the bane of their search for newer sensuous experiences because it causes obsessive infatuation- Etcetera etcetera... "

The Icon rises much faster than you'd guess his mass could ever allow him to, only to drop to a crawl, gaze piercing into you with an almost violating intensity. " No... " He murmurs sweetly, stopping to squat mere inches from your already overheated body, the chain anchored by his tits swaying hypnotically in front of you. " I want to hear it from you, darling. Regale me! "

Put on the spot like this, you don't actually know what about your perspective can be so appealing to the King, but his tone is authoritative, demanding. You must give an answer.

And so, you allow the hellish alcohol to speak for you, memory drawing upon the moments of your most intimate moments with Santi. The definition of his body, the noises he makes as he partakes of your form, the form you never gave much thought to yet the same one he reveres and coats in his drool. The whispers against your skin that you can never quite make out and the dance of claws on sensitive areas bordering between the sweetest caress and the plunge of a jealous lover.

" I- " You laugh breathlessly. " Well, I didn't know what sex was before I met Santi, real sex, real desire. There isn't a thing he does that I dislike, every time I lay with him, I only wish that it never ended, and I'm thankful he knows when to stop, because I might just tell him to keep going until I draw my last breath. "

You don't know where all of that came from.

The King's wolfish grin now turns shark-like, and he nods ever so fervently, egging you on. Santi has set his own glass down, blinking in bewilderment at your words, until a rumble bursts from his chest, and he seeks to hug you closer to himself.

" I know it sounds cheesy a- and dumb but I always want to try new things in bed with him because I've always felt so appreciated and- Santi makes me feel like I'll always look gorgeous no matter what I have on or what little accidents we have. I never knew sex could be so fun and feel so good... And I guess I only have him to thank for it. "

Santi doesn't say anything, just pulls you into a searing kiss full of tongue and approval. One you get lost in far too quickly, uncaring of your surroundings, or the demonlord ogling the two of you like steaks on a platter.

Maybe the King was looking for something a little more lewd and descriptive, but it seems the drink took you to a more emotional lane. Either way, what you said apparently resonates with the incubus in question, because he beams like a spotlight, eyes bright and smile so full of heated love it might just melt you.

It wasn't always like this. You remember the rocky start of this relationship. It could have turned into something ugly. It could have hurt you badly. Don't think about it.

" Oh- Oh, love does win! " Vesper dramatically rises, pretending to wipe a tear that isn't there. " So romantic, so heartfelt, I could just about write a whole drama from this alone. "

Eyes closed, getting a tongueful from your now overly-excited lover, you feel hands pawing at your body. His, you initially think, squirming playfully as they nudge your barely concealed breasts and squeeze at your tummy, palming at the swell of your ass possessively. Then, what you thought to be two hands become three, become different. It takes you a second of sloppily making out to finally open your eyes and check.

The Icon is now looming above you both, all glowing eyes and slobbering chops, cocks twitching for attention while he hastily reaches to place both hands on each of you. You're barely able to complain before your shorts are pushed aside with your thong and a large hand is palming at you insistently, met with the rush of wetness Santi's saliva has helped create. Speaking of, the high-ranker himself has already parted his legs to allow the King to tease his girth out of his slit, getting leisurely pumped. You watch each other get fondled for a moment, the shock fading into shameless acceptance and a burning need for more. Your cunt clenches around nothing.

" Mm, why'd you stop? Enjoy yourselves. "

The other grins, placing a finger under your chin and guiding you into another embrace. This one is slower, more measured, not just to savor the moment but to make a proper show for the sovereign of carnality. Santi works just well enough in tandem with the King's hand to draw out a wanton moan from you, eating it up with his own. Vesper apparently finds this very appealing, sighing his appreciation and rewarding the two of you with more attentive touches.

Your clit is flicked a certain way that forces your legs to jerk, and the situation is fixed when Santi readjusts to hold your leg slightly upwards, encouraging you to slide down a little. Just so, just so... Until Vesper has a finger in you, his index. Then two- His hands are large, larger than the average demon's, this is a stuffing on its own.

Whatever shred of composure you had left is gone, starting to keen and whimper as the demonlord immediately hammers onto the spot that usually has tears welling in your eyes. You don't know what kind of faces you're making, but they're probably not pretty in the wake of such intense stimulus. It feels as if your entire body is throbbing with sensation, the peak of it making your nethers pulse like an epicenter of delight.

Vaguely, you feel someone tug your top down so your tits can bounce free with every thrust upwards, turning to spot Santi rocking into the fist offered to him while he bites his lip to the debauched sight you make. You didn't think you'd be getting off to something like this, but seeing the desperation to use you in his eyes has you fuming in arousal, and likewise, he's loving your helplessly wanton exhibitionism.

" Ahh, she likes that. " The demonlord keenly observes. " Don't you, princess? Like the sight of your pretty incubus fucking my hand like a needy animal because he can't have you yet? Does it turn you on how lost he is in you? Do you think I should make him cum like this? You're both adorable, I'm loving this so much already! "

His depraved purring is the straw that breaks the camel's back, you can only roll your eyes and choke out some kind of plea for mercy before squeezing like a vise around Vesper's fingers and soaking him for all you've got, barely able to breathe in-between the thunderous pulsing of your orgasm. He rides you through it, nice and hard and milking the entirety of it for his own selfish gain, until you're spasming and gasping erratically.

Unfortunately, you missed Santi's own climax, finding him sagging against the seat in a state similar to yours, while the King whorishly sates himself with the mix of your released fluids, sucking and lapping at his hands for every hint of slick and humming pleasantly at the flavor you make together.

" Not bad... Not bad at all. Again, now, I can't wait to see your bond up close! "

You're a little bit confused when he plops himself back down on his massive lounge chair, then taps his thighs invitingly. Santi gets the idea however, tickling and nudging your clothes off you before settling on the monarch's lap.

Vesper hums, rearranging him so Santi's back is to his front, and then you are invited on. The resulting position has Vesper serving as a kind of living support with you seated atop Santi, giving the King a perfect view. Casually rumbling his glee, the King takes hold of your hips and steals any kind of autonomy from you by leading the pace, grinding you against the delectable ridges of Santi's hardness.

Laps are delivered to the side of Santi's face, and you know the mouth on the demonlord's stomach is also sampling around, tendrils closing in to shift between stimulating him and coiling luridly around your bodies like he just can't get enough.

One moment the two of you are locked in an desperate rut against the slow pace of regal hands, the next, you feel the sting of the demon's exquisite girth as you're swiftly impaled, the pain much too quickly blossoming into momentous relief.

It's a frenzy of movement you can hardly process. Maybe it's the effects of that drink, maybe it's just the cacophony of pheromones that being glued to a high-ranker and an Icon produces -You hardly doubt that bracelet is doing anything to protect your poor mind at this point- But you get well and truly lost in it. The world spins, only flashes of the experience register in your muddled brain, goosebumps, a swaying vision, waves of pleasure heightened to such a degree that you cease hearing anything but the muffled echoes of your lover's moans.

In that moment, there's nothing more to reality than the monster in front of you, looking as depraved as you, and leaning into it. Santi drools onto his own chest openly, pupils dilated, eyes relentlessly hypnotic as he swallows every twitch of your tormented form's muscles. No hint of higher thought lies in those acidic green hues, only the beastly impulse to have you, to reduce you to a spasming mess, to make you lose your mind and grow addicted to him.

Faintly, you can hear low whispers in a foreign, harsh tongue, and it never occurs to you that might be the source of your current trance. You don't know what it's doing to you or Santi, and you don't care.

You don't care about anything expect the constant pistoning driving you to a filthy paradise. If the Icon wasn't the one moving your legs, you'd be mush by now, point proven further when your top half simply flops onto the incubus' body, useless.

It must have been about an hour or more when the two of you are stopped, and no matter how gentle the winding down was, you still grunt and whine wordlessly in frustration, met with laughter from the two of them. Santi recovered faster, because of course he did. Looking down to where your bodies meet, you're disgraced with the sight of a sticky mess coating not just your mons and thighs, but plenty of Santi's lower half. It doesn't even reek of sex, you've gone nose blind at this point. It's almost terrifying, you have no idea how many times you orgasmed, or how many times he did for that matter, but the overwhelming evidence is clearly there, and your throat is quite sore. Whether from gasping, screaming or simply breathing through it, you don't know anymore.

Vesper says something to your partner in clear infernal, met with a reply you cannot hope to interpret either, and you're pulled forward to kiss the King, the three of you exchanging lips in a disheveled mess.

By the time you start giggling and breathing hard, Santi sighs.

" We... We should stop for now, no? " There's a mildly guilty look on his handsome features. Probably because you're going to be feeling this for a week.

The demonlord huffs. " Ugh- Fine fine, but only because you two were such a show, the imps flocked to the doors you know? I can feel them peeping. "

The darker demonoid snickers in amusement, reaching out to pet your face and try to ground you in reality, to no avail. You're eventually lifted to a stand, latching onto his arm for support and starting to somewhat ferally bite him in adoration.

Vesper follows suit, look too predatory to mean anything good, and both hands coiled around vastly neglected lengths. Making quick work of himself to the filthy view you and Santi make. He's the one who gulps now.

" I have been very patient however, the least my adorable guests could do is give me a lasting farewell. "

Santi looks like he's about to try to politely renegotiate.

" Pretty please? "

You clap and cackle in enthusiasm, entirely out of your gourd. More, more!

The incubus watches you jump in place, then turns to his old friend. " You have spare regeneration ointments, don't you? "

#Santi oc #Vesper oc #monsterfucker #demon oc #monster boyfriend #yandere monster #yandere teratophilia #terato #terato tag #monster x reader #not sfw #minors dni

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prettyboykatsuki · 10 months

Text

based on this post. i flipped a coin and it landed on dan heng. it was going to be dragon!dh but i thought this was better. top + gn!reader. major spoilers for the hsr main storyline. implicit nsfw 18+

wc ; 1.8k

There is no place for you in the Xianzhou Luofu.

You are a prisoner of war. A long life species. Once, long ago, you'd been taken in by Imbibitor Lunae for your unwavering strength. From a planet long destroyed, with no family nor honor - you'd pressed your forehead to the floor and begged for your life.

Your Master had laughed at the time. Head tilted and smiling, shining and brilliant. You can recall the image so well even now, so many years later.

In the prisons of the Xianzhou, a new lifeform was birthed. The splitting image of your master, but no more than their ghost. The reanimated being Imbibitor Lunae took the punishment of your Master - banished from the Xianzhou. And you, a soul with no ties, took it upon yourself to follow.

For starters, Dan Heng does not like when you call him with any honorifics like he is above you. Dan Heng prefers his name. If you are to speak to him at all, it must be with his name. He likes names, it seems. He gave you yours when you'd followed him far enough and realized you didn't have one.

Next, Dan Heng does not seem to like you very much. You don't think it's personal. As far as ghosts go, you are little more than a poltergeist of his past. The people on the Express regard you fondly, but Dan Heng always looks like he is in pain when his gaze touches you too long.

And last, Dan Heng is beautiful even when he is not in his other forms. Even when he is the Dan Heng of the Astral Express. Dan Heng without name or origin. When he is a little more like you, somehow - you think he is beautiful.

And despite the similarities, Dan Heng is nothing like your master. There are many ghosts in the Xianzhou, but the ghost of Dan Feng does not linger in Dan Heng. Dan Heng is colder. Smoother. At times gentler, too. You know little of reincarnation, but of this much you can be sure. And though your Master saved your life, by now you've spent more time with Dan Heng than you ever did with them.

You do not know much of love. There was someone once. Long, long ago.

And yet, this much you know - you think your heart flutters whenever you think of Dan Heng.

Often, you are forced to reconcile with the differences between your master and Dan Heng. Their tastes, from food to clothing, always stand out to you. It is their taste in adornments that you usually pay most attention to. It's not that Dan Feng was particular.

But Dan Heng often wears jewelry so thin you can hardly see it. It's hard to describe how much it effects you, other than saying that it does. Other than saying you're always the first to notice the changes. He wears the connected tassel and ribbon only when he's leaving the ship. If someone is to gift him jewelry for any reason, he will always wear at least once.

You are forced to recognize the little details of Dan Heng when you notice these adornments. Forced to picture them in your fantasies in which you are able to put him to bed. Often on the floor of the archives, you wonder about the thin swishes of silver.

He wears a necklace underneath the high collar of his shirt. It's a gift from March 7th. A blue moon on a thin silver chain that sits perfectly in the middle of his sternum, trapped against his chest. Sometimes, when he puts on the clothes he has for sleep - you catch a glimpse of it. The starlight pouring through the windows make it shine.

His neck is thin, you think. Something about it is fragile. What would happen to such a material if you were to reach out and touch it.

(What would happen to Dan Heng if your hand tightened around it. Would his skin finally feel flush? Warm to your fingers, contrasting to the cool tones? )

There are bracelets too. Several. Some less formal, more gifts from March. One from Mr. Yang - this time it is gold. Gold, a braided chain - but delicate all the same. This one he takes off often. Only for special events. The curve of his wrist bewitches you. You think the bend of it must be pretty as a picture.

(You think of the indentation it might leave on your spine, had he let you have his way with him, The sound of his voice in your ear, pitchy and high - enough that the pain of being imprinted wouldn't faze you at all.

How good he would feel with his arms around your shoulders and your hands on his hips, bracing for dear life.)

Dan Heng says he doesn't wear rings often.

"They'll tear the pages in the archives if I'm not careful."

But he does own them. He buys them for himself usually, at the market. They're all of the same type. Bands of fine metals that are practical. Silver with aquamarine and amethyst. Gold with quartz and opal. He's not the type to spend so heavily on excess - so there are few. Accumulated after years and years, but untouched by time.

You wonder, if there's any particular reason he keeps them. You aren't sure there is. But he likes them, all the same. Rings are important in your culture. Different ones for different occasion. You think it is too much of a pipedream to hope he thinks of you as he buys them.

(You think of him wearing rings more often than not. It fills you with homesickness. The slender of his fingers with the jewels you've given him. A tradition from your homeland. Something about Dan Heng incites the desire to spoil, adoration bloomed from something much more potent than subservience.

He's beautiful always, but how beautiful would he be underneath you? Black hair and thin features. Delicate and ethereal, otherworldly. His hands covering his expression, painted in pink. Pink cheeks and hot pink mouth, bitten and swollen to hell.

The shine of the things you've given him, all over. You are dying to know lately, if it's possible to make a perfect thing more beautiful)

Last, there is your favorite thing to gift him. Anklets. From the beginning, you're unsure of where the compulsion came from. Even before you ended up in this state - you thought it would suit him. A chain around the ankle, with trinkets. Something more playful than elegant, but suited to Dan Heng all the same.

Recently, Dan Heng parades around the express in his dragon form often enough. The secret is out, so it's pointless in more ways than one to always maintain it. Though he prefers his other form, it is less energy to maintain this one. So he does.

Imbibitor Lunae is seated on the edge of your bed wearing your anklet, and you think the part of you that tries not to get too close might die soon.

You blink once, then again to assure you've not got mad.

"You're wearing it,"

Dan Heng gives you a momentary blank stare before flushing down to his neck.

"You noticed." Comes his reply, curt and deflective. Normally, you'd meet him tit for tat. Match his sarcasm to yours, but the words die as you inch closer to the edge of the bed. He doesn't back away.

"You're...wearing it. Why?"

He doesn't say anything to this. Just flushes and sighs like he's somehow above answering. You think it's endearing. You stand, sit on the edge of the bed and stare. You feel something in you start to crack.

Yes, lately - it is harder and harder to pretend that you do not look at Dan Heng and long.

"Dan Heng," You say, slowly and clearly "I want to touch you."

This makes him look like he'll keel over. There's some words forming in his mouth, something meant to scold you. When your eyes meet the words seem to die. Maybe he can tell you're serious. They're blue and wide and ethereal, stunned into shocked silence.

Your hand rests on his ankle. He doesn't move as you turn to look at it, pressing it against your thumb. You think a single hand around the bend of it, from thumb to ring finger could fit it. A being so powerful not much thicker than grass blades. Pale like milk pouring over honey.

"Since when?" Is his next question. He looks troubled.

"Since as long as we've been aboard the express."

You move towards the end of the bed and Dan Heng makes room for where you sit. You place your hand against clothed calf, planing up until his knee and resting there. He frowns.

"Did you not long for your Master?"

"No," You say firm, getting on your knees and leaning up. Dan Heng stumbles back against the pillows that hold him up. He falls to them as you hover over them and suddenly you're so close. "Only you,"

You take a piece of his hair, long and silky, kissing it as tenderly as you can. From this angle he flushes. Adorned and beautiful, with the same necklace and dainty hooped earrings. The little details that make up all of his idiosyncrasies.

"Only me." He repeats, soft and low and cute. Yes, there is only Dan Heng. You're sure your master could never make a face like this. He looks up at you a little stunned, into quiet silence that doesn't reach you.

"Why did you wear it?" You lean in his. His breath is warm with mint.

"I'm sure you're clever enough to figure that out."

You put your hands on his waist, inching up against the fabric. Your noses touch.

"I want to hear you say it," You reply to him, a little closer - brushing against his lips. He makes a face at you "Or else it will feel too much like a dream."

Your knee presses against the place between his legs but Dan Heng makes no moves to stop you.

"I wore it for you to notice. I didn't think you really would."

You laugh softly.

"I always notice. I'm always looking at you. Just you. It has been that way for a long time now."

He closes his eyes and laughs with you.

"I suppose it has."

You kiss him like this. Slow and tender and gentle, a soft sensation that builds itself to one of lust. You try not to devour Dan Heng, but it grows impossible. How could you turn away from him like this? Ripe like something waiting to be plucked, eaten whole even when taken apart slowly. You dip your tongue into Dan Hengs mouth, licking the fangs but never cutting yourself on their sharp edges.

Something stirs in you, something hard pressed against your stomach. You laugh a little.

"Dan Heng," You say again, teeth scrapping his jaw "I want to look at you a little closer."

He breathes you in. His hand reaches for yours, feeling for your ring finger.

"Nothing is stopping you."

#dan heng x reader #hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader #writing tag #i dont rlly wanna tag this smut cause nothing Happens #but ill add it anyway #dan heng smut

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