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THANKS FOR THE TAG BBY!!! I'm a certified coffee addict and maybe a tad dehydrated.....

tags: @cheesus-doodles, @sinreader, @marigoldart, @milky-mink and anyone else who wants to join!!!

first time starting a tag game teehee but found this picrew and just had to get the gang on it, so rb w urs!!

tags: @bunni-v1 @mini-ism @luminique @strawb3rry-saturnzbarz @pinksandss + anyone who wants to join ♡

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#— SWALLOW MY PRIDE, SET MY HEART ON FIRE.

pairings: PHOTOGRAPHER!lighter x MODEL!afab!reader [MDNI]

words: 2,213

synopsis: lighter struggles to conceptualize that his muse is gaining popularity. as much joy as it brings him, it uncovers his deep jealousy brought on by his love. you’re the one bringing light to his dull grey world, after all, who else could possibly deserve you? they don’t see you the way he does. [photographer!lighter x model!reader]

warnings: AU, implied suicidal ideation, (brief) drinking, nude/lewd photography, light angst, hurt/comfort, jealousy, muse/artist dynamic, pining, nihilism and references to depression/misery, selfish lighter, implied sex. this fic is arguably tame even if tags seem crazy. lighter and you both just have big feelings.

notes: crossposted to AO3, this fic has like major early 2010s vibes, i wrote this to niagra falls (the weeknd) u will def know the vibe im talking abt if u listen to that or HOB mixtape looool gritty 2010s vibe save meeeee

there was this… almost intangible understanding between the both of you.

it was arbitrary, difficult to put into words, easier to act out. life was dull and grey. the mundane dregs and bone deep emotion was impossible not to frame when you were with him, impossible not to capture it ten, fifteen, fifty sum times.

lighter was exceptionally skilled, a raw and young talent waiting for recognition, the true getaway, for the monochromatic tint to bleed out. yearning for life to feel luxurious like champagne-gold, the comfortable glamour, to escape the wounds he’d rather not speak about, to be free of the life he’d rather not live.

he never said anything about death — or wanting to escape his life — explicitly. what he didn’t say could shine in his eyes, it could be said in one look. not everyone saw things the way he did. it was one of the reasons he held up that camera.

he held its weight in his hands, the instrument his anchor. it was kind of weird to say, to even think, but it might just be the only thing keeping him alive. sane, at its basest form.

you outstretched a leg, he watched through the small digital screen, your bare foot dangled off the bed. however provocative these photos may be, they were candid in a sense. the lights in his sad studio-apartment bedroom were off, the light of the sun filtering in through the busted blinds, the paint on the walls were sickly, a yellow stain. he didn’t even have a real bed frame, just a supporting mattress box, those hard ones made of wood and dressed up all nice in fabric-y cotton. the sheets fell onto the ground, and he had maybe two pillows. only one was on the bed itself, you could swear you’ve seen two, but where its twin went is beyond you.

lighter adjusted the zoom on the lens, taking another few pictures to flick through and edit. one could be too blurry, you could be blinking… you just look too perfect, even on camera. the in-person you was the best.

he probably liked you so much because you had that strange unspoken sadness about you that he did himself, you just… kinda knew. those fucking eyes, they said everything, they mirrored his. deep, provocative, almost edgy, a stare you could lose yourself in, a gaze that made you forget everything about yourself. the world needed to know you the way this camera did. he knew you’d get there one day, and hopefully soon.

he didn’t really question why exactly you wanted to model, it entirely made sense to him. those eyes, the curve of your jaw and cheek, your smile, the way you presented yourself. your vibe. it clicked, it didn’t need questioning, just gratitude.

lighter scrolled through the few photos he’d taken, his eyes drifting up, watching you take a drink from the nearly stale vodka on his ugly little nightstand. the way your throat moved, the already tousled look, it made the whole action that much more artistic, sensual. how could you move with that much unintentional grace? how weren’t you already famous? what did he do to deserve you?

his musings were intense, fervent, nearly frantic to capture your every move and every look. how did you manage to bring out life in stillness, in shallow dullness? how did you make silent misery look so good, so sexy? his brows were furrowed deeply, even as you continued posing. he’d let you borrow his only dress shirt, wrinkled with neglect and carelessness. you wore it unbuttoned, the shirt covering enough of your chest, plenty of inner sideboob for him to take pictures of.

it perfectly complemented the panties you wore and the way you kept your hair today.

does he even deserve to see you like this? artistically or not. he kind of has to ogle you, to get that angle and that shot that you plead with him to post on his shitty HTML-coded art blog.

he couldn’t shake that fucking trance, no matter how hard he tried. you were always majestic in his eyes, but how could he just ignore the real you for digital you? art could wait, let him wallow in his misery.

lighter set down his camera by the bottle on the nightstand, only now realizing how messy his sad little room was. the mirror was propped up against the wall, cramped next to a medium sized dresser that looked four times older than him. the walls were tight and almost greasy, clothes were scattered all over the floor, he hadn’t even bothered to take out the empty bottles and put them elsewhere.

he could feel your presence beside him, waiting patiently in his sheets, looking up at him, “so, are we done?”

lighter processed your words a little late, his response delayed, “do you want to be?”

you shook your head no, “not really, you’re my favorite to be around,” you trailed off, “i mean, would you believe more people wanna take pics ‘cause of your art blog thingy?”

he gave a soft hum, a gentle warmth brewing in his chest, a burgeoning sense of pride. his eyes wandered down to his unlaced boots, then back to you. it was wonderful that you were getting attention, recognition, budding fame, his pride twisting into a blossoming jealousy. they did realize that he was the first — the only — to show you off? that you were his muse first?

“that’s, um…, nice.” he responded quietly, letting the dilapidated mattress sink under his familiar weight. he let his elbows rest on his knees, his dark teal hair falling in his face, framing it handsomely.

it was quiet, stale, awkward, for some moments. he didn’t know how to voice his pride without letting the jealousy bitterly slip in. you didn’t know how to further the conversation.

he was happy, really, he wanted everything for you. the sensitive part of him hoped you’d let him be the one to give you everything, despite how unrealistic it was. it was like you knew everything, you knew what he was thinking, why did he assume you knew that, too? in reality, you couldn’t just read his mind, know his heart’s purest desires, even if it genuinely felt like you knew his soul inside and out. you were kindred to him, you somehow knew, even without words.

“but you know you’re…” you tried to say, even as your voice failed you.

“yeah,” he responded half-heartedly. his ego was barely being held together.

“…you’re still my favorite.” you murmured, attempting to make it a little better, a lot more digestible to him. is he getting jealous?

the silence stretched further, wearing you both so thin. you’d quietly hoped you didn’t just fuck everything up, he bit back his wounded ego and boiling jealousy. he wasn’t mad at you, not at all, but by god he never wanted anyone else to see you, to look at you, to worship you the way he did.

“i really hope i am,” his words were hushed, reverent and guilty in nature. he swallowed thickly, trying to quell the anxiety bubbling to the top of his conscious, “i-i don’t want anyone to like you… the way… i do.”

it slipped out before he could stop himself. he didn’t want you to understand anyone’s misery the way you did his, even if it was so painfully selfish, he didn’t want to share. it was the nature of a man to possess, to retain a lover’s loyalty even if proven a thousand times over.

“what do you mean?”

it was such a simple question, even if it innately frustrated him a little. you knew him, you certainly did, you knew him better than anyone else in his life ever did — and probably ever will. so, why didn’t you get it? you weren’t stupid, were you just choosing not to get it? how could he put it into words without sounding like the biggest douchebag ever? fuck, he loved you, he worshipped you, you were everything. you were the light of his life, you made dull grey cityscapes beautiful and his dingy ass apartment livable.

“you’re my muse, something like, um, that. i just… don’t wanna share t-that. it’s not that i’m unhappy for you, it’s…” lighter hesitated, dancing around the words the so desperately wanted to say, to call out your name and beg you to be his love until his bones turn to dust.

you looked at his with a placating look, that gentle encouragement kind of look. one that made him wanna scream and pull you in, one that made him want to tear his skin off and kiss you until his lips were raw and tasted like yours.

“fuck, i love you, okay?” lighter said sharply, his face frantic and red. you blinked, once, twice. somehow, this didn’t surprise you, you knew you loved him one way or another. there’s no way you can know someone like that and it’s not some form of genuine love. you just moved closer and put your head on his shoulder. you could feel the muscles underneath wound with tension.

“me too.” it’s all you could offer — the truth.

the tension in his body only grew with your closeness, he was jumpy and on-edge, despite the wash of happiness that flowed through him at your admission of mutual feelings. he subconsciously bounced his leg, letting you rest on his shoulder. you felt so snug, and would you be mad if he—

his arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you in, letting you put your face in the crook of his neck. lighter shuddered, letting his fingers grip your side gently. lighter tilted his neck, eager for more sensation. your presence, however soothing, still drove him insane. his pulse quickened and his jaw clenched, attempting to console his eager body and anxious mind. he groaned when you leaned in so, so close and let your lips brush along the lateral part of his throat.

“baby, i don’t want you to go anywhere,” lighter pleaded, his hand slipping below the loose dress shirt draped over your body. his fingers dragged along the side of your body, desperately craving the soft skin underneath his fingertips all over him. he kept his touch soothing and devout, never too harsh or demanding. his soul screamed to devour you, keep you down until you were wholly him and he was wholly yours, to take and take until there was nothing left to give. a man’s instinct is never always pure, even if his hands are gentle.

lighter shivered with the anticipation of possibility, of maybe, finally, giving you what you deserved. finally, letting you take him entirely, letting you know how much he really loves you. the possibility of holding you, being more than just your admirer. you gave his life a meaning, you gave him beauty in the mundane, a honed passion and a gift to the world. he owes you everything.

his hand slid up to cup your breast. when you didn’t tell him to stop, when you nudged his neck, he squeezed it gently, feeling the weight and softness in his palm. they felt as perfect as they looked. you threaded your fingers in his hair, pulling him in for a soft kiss. lighter groaned into the kiss, his eyes fluttering closed and brows furrowing. his lips slid against yours, savoring the taste he’d dreamed of since the day he met you. he groped and kneaded your breast with each heated kiss, growing in passion and desire with each pass of lip and tongue.

he pulled you closer to his side with a quick motion of his arm, sweeping you with his well controlled strength. he rolled your nipple a few times between his index and thumb, the digits deft with pressure and precision. you whined, making him feel bigger than ever. you never made him feel so small in such a cruel world. you deserved to feel good.

he pulled back about an inch to speak, “do you wanna?”

his sentence was full of innuendo, you knew what he meant. you grabbed him by the shoulders, hands gripping the flesh of his traps, your expression playful and needy, “of course i want to.”

with that, you pulled him down on top of you. he positioned himself accordingly, almost excitedly with your enthusiasm. you look stunning even from this angle, those eyes staring back up at him with the same expression of awe and desire, deep and shiny with vulnerability. his shirt had left nothing to the imagination now, your chest on full display for him. no camera could capture your beauty appropriately.

an artist could only dream of a muse like this, pleading and smiling, eager to create the purest form of art for him. eager to bring color to the dull world, white-yellow light waning into yellow-orange. the sky burning made that disgusting yellow color on the walls tolerable, it created a bearable world where the only beautiful thing he needed was you, the muse.

the rest of it could go up in flames, so long as the walls of his selfishness can close in.

so long as it was you that stayed.

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Thank you darling~ ( ੭ ˘ ³˘)੭‎°｡⋆♡‧₊˚

favorite color: pastel pink last song: JUST ME! by ZØMB currently reading: nothing (╥﹏╥) currently watching: Avatar: The Last Airbender currently craving: spicy chicken and a fat nap (*´0)ゞ coffee or tea: coffee for life!!

tags: @cheesus-doodles, @sinreader, @marigoldart, @milky-mink and anyone else who wants to join eheh

get to know your moots tag game ! ✶ answer the questions, then tag six people

favorite color ꕀ green and brown last song ꕀ tú by maye currently reading ꕀ the luminaries by susan dennard currently watching ꕀ the great british baking show currently craving ꕀ massaman curry. like always. and like. alcohol and a couple cigs HAHA. a break too :P coffee or tea ꕀ always tea! i don't like coffee

ty for the tag @saltcxrcle ! tagging: @lelapine @toadspondofwhimsy @outof-spite @h0neyst4rz @hhoneylemon @our-lady-of-venom

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@stale-trash

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you rn

Hope Lighter stays safe, he only has 4 hours til he vomits up the antichrist 🙏

lightercore @stale-trash

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@mini-ism we need to build lightercore from the ground up, and maybe provide context and content along the way

lightercore @stale-trash

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#— HEDONE.

pairings: lighter lorenz x afab!gn!reader [MDNI]

words: 3,443

synopsis: hedone (hēdonē), an ancient greek word that describes "pleasure.” after the girls leave, it’s just you and lighter. would you let him hold your hand if it gave him pleasure, if it gave him the answers he’s always sought? would you let him fuck you?

warnings: p in v, semi-clothed, hand job, choking, reader gropes lighter, accidental erection, daydreaming/fantasizing, fingering, he’s just a guy who wants to h*ld h*nds, unprotected intercourse, afab reader (gender neutral, no pronouns/feminine terms) 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.

notes: crossposted to AO3, lighter is bae

the throttle of motorcycles and bikes were a sound you’ve grown accustomed to.

a lot of things in life can be chalked up to the philosophy, the belief, of chasing pleasure. why would you do something you hate if it reaps no reward you enjoy? why would you do something if you don’t like it?

that very same idea can be considered the reason people do anything, generally. subjecting yourself to pain is undesirable to many, the most masochistic of people have their limits too.

the roar of engines grew quieter, replaced by the heavy click of boots against hardwood flooring. it was smart to wear boots around, the wooden flooring was splintered, worn from years of trampling and stomping. a gloved hand landed on your shoulder, taking you out of your trance-like state.

“you good?” the hand on your shoulder drifted down to your upper back, rubbing circles, the sensation sending a shiver down your spine. his voice was deep, a handsome sort of rumble. it took some effort to peel your eyes away from the scratched up window.

“yeah, i’m okay.” you brought your gaze up to lighter’s, whose was concealed by his beloved aviators, tinted so dark you wondered if he could even see at times. he stood behind you, to your side, his touch still lingering in circles, inferior to your lower neck.

his demeanor seemed stoic as always, keeping to himself, staying “low-key” as he put it. “the girls are all gone,” he murmured, the hum of their bikes so distant it couldn’t be heard anymore, “just us now.”

lighter’s eyes were glued to the environment outside the window, seemingly entranced, lulled into the same kind of deep thought you were in.

would one derive satisfaction from thought? what is pleasure? how much chasing would someone do for that rush, the release of ecstasy?

lighter’s gloved hand moved lower, to the small of your back, his touch growing into a gentle, almost ghostly, caress. you looked out the window, observing the tan, dusky dirt and sand, the orange hue of the evening sky, the constructs of blazewood, the few little pebbles and rocks scattered around.

your eyes trailed back to him, his gaze now focused on you, still hidden by those fucking sunglasses. his brows had a small indent in them, creased by their furrowing, lips slightly pursed. his gloved touch had since stopped rubbing circles on the superior base of your spine, fingers daring to go lower.

you let out a soft, confused noise, his lips parting slightly. the crease deepened a bit more. how far is someone willing push the limits to fulfill their own desires for satisfaction? depends on who they are.

lighter’s face was contorted into a strained, almost guilty look. his lower lip glistened with a thin and awkward sheen of saliva, expression taut with a shameful tension. how apt is someone to escape pain by indulgence? his fingers crept to your side, clutching it tightly.

you didn’t pull away, not at all.

internally, lighter was warring with himself, telling himself he shouldn’t, he couldn’t. he knew that was a damn lie. it’s not like you're anybody’s personal property, not like you’re pulling away, not like you're running from him. it really isn’t like that, not like you’re touching up on him too, not like you’re more than friends. it scared him, the uncertainty, but he just can’t help himself. you’re irresistible, every part of you.

was pleasure worth the risk of pain? what is pleasure without pain? to perceive one means the other must exist. his grip pulled you flush to his side, pressing you to his body, hold unrelenting. he could really get lost in those eyes, he was already tumbling over himself just staring at you.

you stayed flush against him, even pressing your cheek to his chest. could you hear his heart hammering? it was already thrumming in his ears, blood rushing harder, faster, further, everywhere.

everywhere.

he could only hope you could ignore the raging boner tenting his pants, standing quite proud. his tight pants really don’t help, they felt even more like a barrier than before. his breathing grew heavier, clawing at the last remnants of composure. he was a man that prided himself on his ability to keep it together, always level-headed, despite the circumstances. wouldn’t it be good to let that go? just for a little, just for a while.

his gloved fingers dug even further into your flesh, the sensation grounding, yet intoxicating at the same time. your body was so pliant against his, he was desperately seeking any other thought that didn’t involve pinning you underneath him, getting you bent over and compromised. his resolve was wavering with each second, you’re gonna drive him mad.

lighter’s insistently demanding cock kept stirring, retaliating with each needy twitch. every physical reaction of his spurred his dirty thoughts on further, lewd images of you under, beside, on top of him, his shaft buried as far as it could go inside of you. a particularly vivid picture of you, one leg up on top of his shoulder, leaned upright against a countertop beckoned him deeper into his fantasies. you keened as he shoved himself further inside you, drinking in every noise you made. your eyes were glassy with desire, with need, with… love. his grip on your thigh was tight, grunting with satisfaction as he slid in and out of your warm cunt with aided ease. god, you’d get so fucking wet…

a sharp inhale brought him back to reality. he didn’t realize just how tight his hold on your waist had gotten. “sorry, really, uh…”

instead of wriggling away or whining, you curled closer to him, body melting into his for some semblance of comfort or relief. whichever one was galloping through your motives. the air was tense, he was sure you could feel how hard he is through the fabric of his pants, you’re terribly close. not that that’s a problem, unless you don’t want to be poked in the thigh by his touch-starved cock.

yeah, you definitely knew. “are you hard?”

no point in hiding whatever is in very, very plain sight, “uh… yeah, my bad.”

with the simple brush of your hand by his crotch, he bit back a particularly low groan, stifling it as a throaty noise. did you intend to do that? did you intend to rub up against him like that, get him even harder than before? as if that could be possible, it was. his face was strained, cheeks dusted a faint pink, becoming immersed in his fantasies again.

his breaths came in shallow, slight heaves. they sounded like soft gasps, periodic and frantic. fuck, what he wouldn’t give to hear you croon underneath him. you’d look so hot pinned to the bed by your wrists, kissing you until you panted for air, just as needy and depraved as he is for your touch. your tongue would feel so good, swiping against his own, licking down his neck, down his shaft. those darling lips would fit so perfectly around his cock, tongue milking every drop of sweet pleasure out of him. pleasure that belonged in you, hips bucking like a crazed man, drunken and starved, experiencing what it means to feel for the first time.

lighter’s eyes trailed down to his crotch, your hand lingered, ghosting just over the raised clothing over his persistent, weeping cock. he could feel pre-cum seep from the head, dampening his boxers, demanding in tempo with the beat of his heart. the color of lighter’s face darkened, hips involuntarily grinding against your palm. lighter drew in a particularly sharp breath at the much desired friction.

you gave him a knowing look as you continued to palm the prominent bulge in his pants. lighter’s fingers stayed glued to your side, his eyes wide behind the dark lenses, partially in disbelief and in welcome bewilderment. his tongue darted out to moisten his lips, mouth slightly agape. at a loss for words, he let a deep grumble out, his gaze still stuck on your hand. your grip was now entirely on his dick, pressing against the outline, moving from base to tip and back through his pants. “ah, fuck…”

he let out a deep breath, the air held in by his wound muscles, unbeknownst to him. his body relaxed slightly under your gentle touch, slipping back into the comforting coax of his daydream. damn, your hand, it feels way too good. would you let him hold it if he could? hold it while he fucks you, while he guides you, while he walks in stride with you? will you let him interlace his bare fingers with yours? will you kiss each of the scars on his knuckles, wrap your own delicate hand around his aching shaft instead of his own?

would you instinctively reach for him? in a crowded area, would you look for him the way he’d look for you? could he seek every answer in you the way you’d look to him? would you let him fuck it out of you, kiss you until you spoke every word he wanted to hear? merely the satisfied twinkle in your eye soothes his soul. he could satisfy you the way nobody else ever can and will, accept every answer in the way you speak, laugh, cry, scream, and moan… every little gasp and mewl, nobody would take you like he could.

take you from behind, from the side, below and above him, take you as you are, take every word and lack of one. take every good with the bad, every soothe with the familiar burn and sting, if it meant you understood him the way he understands you. he would kiss you the way you like, fuck you ten times over if he knew you loved it, hold your hand tight enough if it meant anything to you. seems like you’re struggling with his belt.

“need a bit of help? i know it can be a pain sometimes. here, i got you.” he put his hand over yours, guiding it towards the overly complicated buckle, unclasping it just enough, loosening it with his own hand grasping yours until you could manage to unzip his pants. “you got it, keep going. i promise i’ll make it worth your while.

you didn’t need it to be ‘worth your while,’ having him in your grasp was already enough. you couldn’t be bothered to move from the window, hand already snaking down his boxers to grab his bare, attention-deprived cock. lighter hummed softly at the feverish contact, feeling your thumb collect the thick bead of pre-cum oozing from his cockhead. as you coated his shaft in his own pre, his head grew slightly dizzy, the sensation overwhelming, yet comforting knowing it was you.

“ah, shit, yeah…” your hand started moving faster as lighter let out a mumbled string of curses. with each passing stroke, he could feel the heat in his body burn hotter, the familiar pool of desperation in his lower gut forming, pleasure soaking into every single cell of his body. all his coherent, ‘normal person’ thoughts were melting away at the mercy of your slick stroke.

with a whispered groan, lighter leaned in, “that feels amazing, but i can’t take another minute without my dick in you.”

hesitantly, you released lighter’s cock, pulling your hand out of the waistband of his boxers. lighter pulled you away from the view of the window, just far enough from prying eyes. within the building was a lounge space and a small kitchenette. lighter cornered you inside the kitchenette, wasting no time to put his lips on yours. his kiss was firm but careful, giving you a moment to melt into his lips, your arm hooking around his neck to pull him further closer. his tongue eventually slipped between your lips, the sweet taste of your mouth mingling with his, eagerly swapping his spit with yours. lighter’s kiss grew heated and intense, exploring every inch of your mouth, his lips searing and nearly bruising. he groaned as your fingers tangled with his dark locks, his glove-clad hands coming to grip the counter on each side of you.

reluctantly, he pulled away, lips still proximal to yours, huffing for breath. lighter’s eyes burned bright with passion, staring you down as if he needed you more than the air that kept him alive. you nearly quivered under his scrutiny, the attractive green hue of his eyes keeping yours. your panties were stuck to your cunt with dampness. your hips rocked into his, heat collecting in the fabric as your cunt leaked, contracting around nothing. “do me a favor? turn the other way for me.”

you did as lighter asked, squirming around so your ass was in direct contact with his hard-on. instinctively, his hips rolled against your ass, the tantalizing swell mocking him. lighter eased your pants and underwear down your thighs and legs, letting them pool against the floor, managing to get his right glove off pretty quickly. the pads of his fingers prodded against your heated pussy, collecting the wetness between your thighs, rubbing your clit a few times from behind.

“you feel that, huh? that’s nothing compared to this dick.” seemingly on cue, his index and middle fingers slipped into your heated cunt, stretching your pussy out wonderfully. you let out a soft moan, feeling the two digits slide in and out with adept ease. each moan was punctuated by his fingers working their way back inside of you, deep within your cunt, the slap of his knuckles on your ass. lighter’s fingers curled just enough to make you croon and let your neck loll downwards, forehead dangerously close to thunking against the counter. your hands gripped at the edge of the countertop, knuckles white as lighter’s other hand spread your pussy to the side. his fingers made an abrupt exit.

you mewled at the loss, trembling weakly at the absence of something inside you, of him. the coil in your gut loosened, knees weak and palms creased by the rigid edge of the kitchenette’s counter. lighter brought his fingers to his lips, sucking on them nearly exaggeratedly, savoring the taste of you. he let out a satisfied “mmm,” licking the webbing between the digits, lapping up any remaining slick on his fingers. his left hand fell to his boxers, letting his cock spring free as his right hand got you to arch just right against the cold marble slate, spreading your cunt just enough again to let him take a good look.

“you’re gonna look so good taking my dick.”

lighter slapped the heavy tip of his cock against your slit, the rounded head dragging on your clit, the friction driving you wild. you could feel the excitement inside you build, anticipating the lethal stretch. fuck, you were soaked, the wetness coating his tip thickly, threatening to drip all the way down your thighs and onto the floor below you. he pressed his palm down on your lower back, forcing you to intake a sharp breath, his cock accompanying the newly inhaled air. after the tip got lost inside your heat, your cunt squeezed him tight, lungs immediately letting go of your breath. “that’s it, take it good, just like that.”

you moaned weakly, the thickest part of his cock being the shaft immediately below the tip. it felt so good, being split open by him, even with how wet you are. every fiber of lighter’s being was resisting the urge to snap his hips into yours, bury himself into you with force. your cunt wouldn't take much more, lighter opting to pull out a little to sink deeper inside. as he withdrew, you cried out, lighter hushing you with a soft “shh,” his hips moving forwards into yours again. you let out a string of soft babbles, the addictive stretch over as the rest of his shaft took.

“that’s right, fuuuuck.” he gasped, your pussy immediately gushing around him, clamping down on his length like a vice. after a few merciful moments, lighter dragged his hips back, rocking them into you again. you brokenly moaned, feeling his cock slowly drawl in and out of you a few more times, each movement followed up with a loud, needy moan. fuck, you looked so hot, sexier than he could imagine taking his dick from behind. “let me hear you, come on.” he urged gently.

his right hand pinned the back of your neck down to the cold marble, his hand large enough to wrap around the blood vessels on the lateral sides of your neck. his grip was tight, not entirely brutal, picking up the pace with each drag of his hips. the heat in your tummy flared, a thick sheen of your slick coating his dick, the lubricant creating a mess of his boxers and hem of his jacket. his tight hold on the sides of your neck furthered your high, body arching into his, brain fuzzy with pleasure and disconnected from reality. his cock slammed into you, his own pleasure indicated with a guttural groan. he sounded so hot when he felt good.

“you like it when i fuck you? you like this dick?”

you could offer a broken moan as a response, pussy tightening at his deep, horribly sexy, laugh. “yeah, i know, fuuuck.”

lighter bent lower, his voice ringing in your ears, brain barely processing his words, “you close? you just wont let me go, feels amazing.” your strangled moan told him everything he needed to know. you were closer than you could understand.

the heat of your orgasm pooled deep within you, winding all your muscles tight with tension and desire. with a few harsh thrusts, you let out a cry louder than you anticipated, your neck suddenly free from his hold. lighter bullied himself as deep as he could, watching you come undone. though you couldn’t see as you rode your climax out, he had a smug, proud look on his face.

lighter pulled out of you with an effort, resisting the urge to fuck himself using you. his hand came up to the front part of your throat, where your trachea was, pulling you upwards and putting your backside flush to his chest with a gentle force. “i got you, don’t worry.”

before you knew it, lighter was leaned back on the couch, sinking you onto his cock again, your legs parted as you straddled him. your hands came to rest on his shoulders as he half sat up and half laid back, squealing in pleasure as he buried himself to the hilt again. “knew you could handle it, feels so good.”

didn’t matter what he did with your clothes, now that you were naked on top of him, his signature sunglasses sitting aside on the other cushion. his scarred hands came to rest on your hips, moving you up and down, bouncing you on his cock. he threw his head back, gasping with each oversensitive movement along your walls.

an uncharacteristically high noise left his lips, his eyes focused on the bounce of your tits as he lifted you up and down on his ever-demanding cock. fuck, you looked so good, sweaty and tuckered out, yet still taking him so well. your tits are just the cutest, the way they jiggle with every motion. lighter’s hips rocked upwards, bucking wildly as the high crept onto him, your nails digging into the skin and scar tissue littering his shoulders like a mosaic through his leather jacket. lighter’s control became frantic, guiding your body brutally, the sensitive waves of your previous orgasm washing into this one. lighter grit his teeth, groaning heavily as the coil tightened even more, the intensity of his climax terribly foreign. every muscle in both your bodies ached and wildly tightened with desperation as ecstasy washed over you both.

as you rode out your familiar pleasure, lighter rocked his hips, bucking them, milking out every bit of sensation he could from inside you. lighter covered his face with one hand, peeping one eye out of the gap between his fingers, as the other hand’s nails dug into your bare flesh. “fucking hell, oh, shit…”

you don’t think you’ve ever heard lighter say such vulgar things, especially not swear that much in a minute. as his grip on your waist and hip loosened, it immediately sought out your hand, prying your dominant hand away from his shoulder and interlacing your fingers with his as he heaved. “fuck, you think you’ll let me do this again? as many times as i want?”

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#— FLICK YOUR LIGHTER ; IGNITE MY FLAME

pairings: lighter lorenz x afab!gn!reader [MDNI]

words: 2,496

synopsis: after lighter’s bike gets vandalized, he seems to find some solace in your laughter. hearing your voice ring in his ears sparks the flame of passion. a kindling is as deadly as an explosion.

warnings: sloppy makeout, biting/marking, semi-public intercourse, slight leather kink, grinding/dry humping, p in v, slight praise kink, semi-clothed, some plot, rough intercourse, unprotected intercourse, afab reader (gender neutral, no pronouns/feminine terms) 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.

notes: crossposted to AO3, lighter is bae

lighter was always one to keep his cool.

effortless finesse was always his style, slick and oozing with swagger. always leather-clad, impeccable and sharp as his instinct. slightly illusive, maybe, with his style, though that tight leather didn’t lie about his physique. his sunglasses shielded him from the blaring sun of the outer ring, or maybe the scorching glare of his opponent. yet, not once did he falter, burning brighter than a star, than the flame of passion. he lived up to his name, without a doubt. never was he engulfed by it, he emerged time and time again, with ease.

it took you out of your thoughts, sitting on the edge of a wooden platform, you could hear his slight cursing, growling under his breath, “damn thugs,” and, “the fucking audacity!” piper simply grumbled tiredly in response, turning your head to witness the commotion. piper was rubbing her eyes tiredly, nodding to lighter’s fussing, the back of his hand reaching to rub the sweat from his brow.

“lighter, no reason to cuss and whine, it’s really no biggie,” she attempted to console him, to little avail. “i can fix up your paint, they didn’t cause too much damage. seems like your parts are all intact too, calm down now…”

he huffed, “i’m not upset about whatever damage this is, you’re right, it’s nothing. they have some nerve trying to ruin my bike, that’s what i’m pissed about!” lighter folded his arms, assessing the damage for the umpteenth time. he diligently cared for his bike, but lighter was never one to tolerate disrespect.

piper wheeled off the bike to her workstation, nodding off a few times as she carefully thought about how to fix his precious motorbike. he trudged away, footsteps heavy. you could hear the crunch of the dry, hot sand below him as he came close to you. for a while, he stood behind you, scarf whipping in the wind as it blew hot air in both of your faces.

“yes, lighter?” you turned to look at him, “is everything alright? i overheard what happened with your bike.”

just as soon as he heard “bike,” he scowled slightly, his sunglasses reflecting the terrain rather than mirroring his expression. “probably too chickenshit to do it right in front of me. how funny is that?” lighter’s words carried humor, but his delivery did not.

“you’re saying they’re cowards?” the glint of the sunbeam in his sunglasses told you everything you needed to know, the desert wind lashing you and him in the face. he seemed ever-so unperturbed, you couldn’t help but wonder how many more things could possibly be pissing him off? how does he remain so undisturbed by it?

“i’ll be fine, though. don’t worry too much, you’ll get wrinkles like lucy.” he tilted his head down to meet your gaze, a slight smile playing on the corners of his lips. you couldn’t help but chuckle, who knows what lucy would have done if she heard that? instinctively, he lowly chuckled too, your humor slightly infectious.

“i know, i’m funny.” lighter remarked, seeing you laugh slightly harder. you were always the first to erupt in laughter when he made a joke. “you think caesar is gonna make me do comedy next?” lighter grinned as you continued to giggle, your gleeful and unrestrained display stirring something within him. it felt a lot hotter now than it did before. it’s gotta be the sun coming up now.

“okay, okay, that’s enough now.” lighter’s voice was lighter, almost playful. if you kept giggling like this, everyone is gonna start wondering what got you so worked up. “you gotta tell me what burnice made for you this time. what the hell has she been doing to you?”

with your next eruption of laughter, lighter wrapped a strong arm around your abdomen and lifted you up, hauling you by his waist. he let out a breath and carried you further away from prying eyes. mercilessly, he dropped you, watching you catch your breath with a few heavy exhales and snorts. “you shouldn’t be laughing at a man whose had his property damaged.”

his serious tone was accompanied by a coy grin as he towered over your slumped form, “get up. come on, you are grown.” lighter waited as you got yourself up with weak muscles, that same flame flickering in his soul as you beamed at him. he cleared his throat as he flushed lightly, averting his gaze momentarily. now the moment was getting stale, not much else he could really say without taking a step backwards and making you laugh again.

“how long is it gonna take for you to get your bike back, lighter?” you said, with a slight exasperated breath, your cheeks still hurting slightly from heartily laughing. “not long, piper’s great at what she does. maybe a day, if she manages not to pass out a few times.”

you took in your surroundings, noting that you both were sandwiched between two buildings, the space between them cold and narrow. lighter might have already forgotten why you both were here, or what else he might’ve wanted to say.

lighter fixed his sunglasses, pushing them up the bridge of his nose. “does that leather ever get hot?”

“what? i mean, yeah, it does.” he replied blankly.

“why do you wear it then? you know it’s quite hot in the outer ring,” your eyes were glued to the way his jacket clung to his muscles, leaving nothing to be imagined, only observed. “is it cause you want to show off?” your eyes travelled back up to his, holding his steely gaze.

“i show off enough in a fight, wouldn’t you agree? are you asking me to show off for you, now?” lighter probed, folding his arms again, you watched as they flexed under the tight jacket he wore, threatening to nearly bulge out of it.

“if you wanna, i won’t complain.” seriously, you couldn’t peel your eyes away from his arms. they were huge, and that jacket did nothing but define them even more. your words came out more breathy than you wanted them to, causing him to sharply inhale and hold it. as he drew in that breath, you could see his chest puff up as his abs tightened, letting the air shakily exit.

“fuck, you’re testing me, huh?” lighter quickly looked to his left and right, where you both might be seen. there wasn’t anyone around, but he cautiously checked a few more times. before you could react, he pressed his lips to yours, grabbing your upper arms tightly. his kiss was heated and firm, as was his grip around your arm. his fingers pressed into your triceps, wrapping almost entirely around your arm, “you really want to test me? i’m sure you know this leather is hot, but what you don't know is how bad i want to take it off now.”

you could feel his breath ghost against your skin, causing you to shiver as he leaned in, “but i can’t. not yet, tonight. doesn’t mean i can’t give you what we both want.” his words made you squirm, his grip tightening as you wriggled around in arousal. he chuckled lowly, pressing closer to you. without a thought, you wrapped your arms around him, coming beneath his arms to meet on the vast expanse of his back. you could feel every heavy breath through his jacket, how the muscles over his abs and ribs moved with each desperate huff.

as he caged you between the wall and his body, lighter pressed his lips to your neck, exposing the thin, delicate flesh of your throat with a gentle raise of the jaw. you screwed your eyes shut, gripping at the tight-fit that was his jacket, whimpering softly at the sensation. lighter worked his way down, pressing kisses from your mastoid to your collarbone, nipping and sucking at the tender skin on the way down. you could feel his tongue run down the side of your throat, catching your pulse point, savoring the feeling of your rushing blood under his tongue. the sensation was enough to make you squirm and whine.

“you’re real heated now, huh?” lighter whispered against your skin, “just as needy as me.” as he spoke, you could feel the incessant press of his hard cock against you, making you squeak. he turned your head further to the side, exposing the lengthened muscle of your neck further to him. he dove in, gripping your hip tightly with his other hand, sucking onto your neck. he released it with a pop, biting the weak flesh playfully. lighter could hear the pained noise you made, fueling his lustful haze further.

lighter groaned at the sensation, feeling you move beneath him, the friction of your movements rubbing against him. “you tease, you know what you’re doing to me.” you gripped his back harder, pressing yourself into him with vigorous need. he could feel a sharp jolt on his own neck as he let go of your jaw, a playful bite marking his own neck. “fuck, you bit me? that’s petty.”

with another searing kiss, his hands snaked lower, making their way into your pants. he rubbed your clit slowly with his two digits through the fabric of your panties, causing you to moan softly into his demanding lips. lighter’s tongue demanded entrance, exploring your mouth with his, subconsciously grinding against your thigh as he tasted your lips and tongue with his own. he didn’t care much for the mess he was making, saliva dribbling onto both of your chins as his hand and hips continued to pick up the pace. you moaned again into lighter’s kiss, bucking your hips against his touch, feeling the heat build slowly between your thighs. with each stutter of your hips, his cock throbbed in his pants, feeling your thigh brush against him with little restraint.

lighter broke the intense kiss to murmur against your heated lips, “feels so good when you do that, you feel good baby?”

you nodded into his embrace, whining with each stroke of your hardened clit, the fabric separating his touch from your aching pussy — your worst frenemy. lighter pressed himself against you again, “touch me.”

you dropped your dominant hand from his back, the other hand clinging desperately as it had been. lighter grabbed your hand gently, guiding it to his hard cock, drinking in the feeling of your hand through his hands. he quickly unbuckled his belt and unzipped his pants, eagerly shoving it down into his boxers. he let out a fervent groan, shivering as your hand wrapped around his bare cock. “fuck yes, baby. just like that, yeah…”

he groped your chest a few times through your top, hissing with pleasure each time you stroked him. he could feel pre-cum leaking from his tip, his resolve weakening as he felt you rub his shaft with the pre oozing from his cockhead. he just couldn’t take it anymore, racing to get those pants off of you and fuck. lighter’s hand eventually got them loose, pulling them down enough, pulling one of your legs through out of your pants and underwear, letting them fall and lie around one ankle. you could feel yourself exposed, the colder air contrasting your heated core as lighter excitedly huffed. he grabbed the underside of your thigh, right above the knee, pinning it upwards to expose you enough.

responsively, you pulled his pants down enough to let his cock free, guiding the tip towards your slick entrance. “you wanna take me? tell me you do.”

“i wanna take you so bad, lighter…” you murmured, more of your efforts going towards getting him all the way inside you, buried to the hilt. he drank your response in deliciously, biting his lip with his handsome low chuckle, “i know you do.”

lighter pushed into you, your slick cunt accepting him graciously. you mewled as his cock stretched you out more with each inch, covering your mouth with his to dampen your moans. every fiber of you felt like you were being split open, yet you wanted no more than that, you wanted everything he could possibly give to you. his kiss grew deeper with each inch sunk into you, the feeling of your cunt nearly intoxicating, “knew you could do it, take it good, that’s it.”

with a ferocious first thrust, you couldn’t help but yelp loudly, followed by lighter’s harsh shushing and more kisses. he took no time to break you in, fucking you with slow, brutal thrusts, each more forceful than the last. lighter could not find it in him to care if he was shaking the walls of the building he had you against. his grip on the inner underside of your thigh tightened, his nails digging into the soft, supple flesh.

“you fuckin’ like this, yeah, bet you do,” he growled between kisses, diving back in for a particularly lewd sounding tongue kiss. lighter shoved his tongue down your throat as his other hand came up to grope your breast. his thrusts were starting to become more erratic. faster, but still merciless.

“you’re so goddamn tight, fuck, you trying to keep me in you?” he looked down at his cock, breaking eye contact with you, watching how your body bounced with each thrust. he squeezed your chest particularly hard, his thumb brushing against your nipple, relishing every noise you and your body made.

“you’re getting me close, you wanna take all of me? i’ll give you what you asked for.”

without letting you respond, he drove himself deeper inside you, more so than you previously thought he could, his lingering promise hanging in the air as your body buzzed with ecstasy, “gonna fuck you so good, you won't remember a name but mine.”

you could feel the heat pooling intensely in your gut, burning like nitro-fuel down your throat, forever ablaze as passion was. passion, this is what it is. it takes a small flame to light everything on fire. a kindling is as deadly as an explosion in the right circumstances. bright and smoldering as the fucking sun.

he was right, you can’t remember a thing but the flicker of heat inside you. you tightened around him with a sweet sounding whine, your pussy gushing around his cock, his dick hitting every spot within you. you were so close, so… so close…

a kindling is as deadly as an explosion.

you leaned into him as your orgasm washed over you, riding it out as he reached his own peak, groaning curses and dirty words into your ear. yet, you couldn’t understand a word, not a single sentence. the sweat dripped down from his brow and onto your skin as his grip tightened, then loosened. your senses were on fire, the world around you both seemed to burn away, leaving nothing but the searing throes of passion and lingering desire.

quite a match, that lighter was with you.

[stale-trash]

WHAT DO YOU MEAN WHATDOYOUMEAN

[stale-trash]

The art of creation ✨️

[stale-trash]

It's Albedo's birthday, and it is Friday the 13th....allow me to humbly suggest creepy Albedo on this blessed day

cw: yandere, voyeurism

GN reader!

A/N: was in a bit of a rush to put this out on time so uh ignore anything that makes no sense (⁠｡⁠ﾉ⁠ω⁠＼⁠｡⁠)

I interpret Albedo as rather reserved emotionally. He isn't unfeeling, he just doesn't share much of what he is feeling to those not closest to him. Unless you can perfectly analyze his mannerisms, you wouldn't even know that he's upset or happy or troubled unless he explicitly tells you.

Most wouldn't call Albedo cold though; mysterious is their adjective of choice. He is holed up in his lab, conducting experiments day in, day out like any genius of his stature should.

That's why most give him some grace when he inadvertently insults them with that pleasant voice of his. You can't fault the guy, he spends most of his time in the middle of nowhere - it'd be weirder if he did remember how to properly socialize.

Albedo isn't a fool, he is acutely aware of how he is perceived. He doesn't bother changing it because it's convenient for him.

Especially when it comes to pursuing you.

He can observe you to his heart's content without consequence. From staring unblinkingly at you whenever you run into each other to suddenly noting down your responses, there is little stopping him from treating you like an especially fascinating specimen. Whenever he toes your bottom line too much, all you need is a bashful apology and an empty promise to break the "bad habit".

You get used to it, just like everyone else in Mondstadt. Yet, you can't shake this feeling of...wrongness about him. His stare isn't that one of innocent curiosity but one that burns. It's a stare you can feel from miles away with how it burrows beneath your skin, demanding to know every single thing about you.

It's a stare that desires to strip you bare.

Once you notice it, you can feel it whenever you're alone. It's as if there are thousands of those cerulean eyes trained on you. Sometimes, the sensation vanishes as fast as it arrived, and other times, it follows you for hours. It doesn't matter if you are in the safety of your home - curtains firmly drawn, windows bolted shut, and doors triple locked - or are out and about, it always finds you.

It somehow gets worse whenever you attempt to undress. You can feel it increase in intensity as if encouraging you to continue. You can feel it roaming your skin like a thousand hands. You can feel it memorize every single feature and meticulously transfer it to paper for your viewing displeasure.

You don't know what's worse: the crime, knowing the perpetrator, or the perpetrator knowing you know.

[stale-trash]

I had more ideas!!!

cw: yandere behavior, manipulation

Imagine if you knew them - trusted them even. They were someone you'd never imagine in a hundred years to be capable of deplorable things. They are - well, were - an upstanding moral citizen, and upstanding moral citizens don't engage in such disgusting behavior. No, that was reserved for the vermin of society, the psychopaths locked up in cells and kept far, far away from the general public.

But what about the vermin that knew how to act? Those capable of burying their true nature under layer upon layer of lies? They get to play pretend.

They get to pretend to be a perfectly acceptable person to socialize with. They get to pretend that they're content with the relationship they've built up with you. They get to pretend that they're okay when you fail to share your personal problems.

It's beyond frustrating to know what they could have, what they should have, dangle right in front of them, just barely beyond their reach.

They could've remained an upstanding moral citizen, but then, they wouldn't have gotten you.

You can cry and shout and plead all you want, they don't mind. It is quite the shock, isn't it? Your trusted friend turning out to be such a fiend and all...

They get it, they really do, but you ought to know, you drove them to this. Your lover would've been alive if you just noticed them and gave them a chance.

Sure, they might've done the actual deed, but you aren't actually all that innocent either, now are you?

Thinking about...kind people.

They aren't good, they're just nice.

cw: yandere/possessive behavior, explicit violence

GN reader!

A/N: I had no specific character in mind but lemme tell ya, my brain...oh it's churning

They're polite and soft-spoken as they etch their name into your skin - so patient as they shush your pained whimpers with soothing touches, completely ignoring your lover's protests. They're so sweet as they gut your lover in front of you - laughing gently at your screams of horror because of how delectably cute your terrified face is. They're so understanding as they wipe entrails from your face - promising to never subject you to such a display ever again.

Of course you'd be scared, this is a lot of blood. You probably never seen organs spilling out like a grotesque waterfall before, have you?

Let them pat your head and help you onto your feet with misleading strength. Let them guide you into your bathroom and scrub you clean, resulting in rivers of blood to flow past your feet. Let them dress you in a clean set of pajamas and guide you to your bed as if they'd done this a thousand times. Let them snuggle with you and hum you to sleep, shamelessly inhaling your intoxicating scent and peppering you with kisses.

Let them pretend to be your one and only.

[stale-trash]

Thinking about...kind people.

They aren't good, they're just nice.

cw: yandere/possessive behavior, explicit violence

GN reader!

A/N: I had no specific character in mind but lemme tell ya, my brain...oh it's churning

They're polite and soft-spoken as they etch their name into your skin - so patient as they shush your pained whimpers with soothing touches, completely ignoring your lover's protests. They're so sweet as they gut your lover in front of you - laughing gently at your screams of horror because of how delectably cute your terrified face is. They're so understanding as they wipe entrails from your face - promising to never subject you to such a display ever again.

Of course you'd be scared, this is a lot of blood. You probably never seen organs spilling out like a grotesque waterfall before, have you?

Let them pat your head and help you onto your feet with misleading strength. Let them guide you into your bathroom and scrub you clean, resulting in rivers of blood to flow past your feet. Let them dress you in a clean set of pajamas and guide you to your bed as if they'd done this a thousand times. Let them snuggle with you and hum you to sleep, shamelessly inhaling your intoxicating scent and peppering you with kisses.

Let them pretend to be your one and only.

[stale-trash]

Hi, of that's, can I please have yandere Jade x reader who tries to break up with her? (Headcanon). How would Jade react and what would she do in this situation?

I am assuming you mean Jade from Honkai Star Rail. If not, I'm sorry!!

cw: yandere/possessive behavior, very questionable behavior, implied violence, possible ooc

A/N: I have yet to play any of the quests she's in (╥﹏╥). I hope I did her justice!!

Bold of you to even assume you have the option to break-up with her. No matter how you end up in a relationship with her - willing or unwilling - your fate is sealed. 

Jade knows every aspect of her desires, from their depth to their origins. When she sets her mind to something, precious little can get in her way.

How she acquired you determines how she reacts to your ill-advised statement. If you are in a contract with her, she would take some time to remind you of your position - how truly nice you have it.  

It'd start small, like having you organize paperwork in the pawnshop where you'd get a first hand look at Lady Bonajade's dealings. Many desires are laid bare in front of you; some are honorable, others deplorable, and both are equally pondered upon by the lavishly clad woman. It’s hard to understand the logic behind most of the dealings, yet you remembered the time you occupied their positions - the way your desires slipped past your lips to be scrutinized by Lady Bonajade. 

You also get to see what happens to those who step out of line - more specifically, the bureaucratic aftermath. The written records of their punishment, outstanding debt, and next steps are so clinical regardless of the situation. It doesn't matter if they were fighting for their life or attempting to pull a fast one - there was no leeway. 

There was no reason for Jade to drape you in expensive fabric and opulent jewels. There was no reason for Jade to have you by her side doing menial tasks. There was no reason for Jade to suffocate you in her cold embrace and colder favor.

There was no reason for Jade to treat you like a lover. All the contract specified in its convoluted wording was that you're hers to use as she sees fit. 

If you somehow aren't apologizing for your behavior and willingly accepting whatever humiliating punishment she has in mind within a week, Lady Bonajade has no problem pushing you further. 

You'd lose all of her "favor" slowly until you're nothing but another IPC grunt. You won't be in any threat of dying, but there are many things worse than death prowling the cosmos. Don't worry, it won't be anything Jade can't fix given the appropriate price. 

All you need to do is apologize, and beg for her favor once again. Of course, a benevolent woman such as her would be more than willing to reevaluate your contract - though, it is in your interest to note that this is a one-time offer. If you were to repeat this mistake again, the punishment wouldn’t be so light. 

If you aren't in a contract with her, that would change. This relationship wouldn’t just end because you will it. But she'll let you slip from her embrace for now.

Jade is not above dismantling every aspect of your life piece by piece until you come crawling back. You can choose how much is destroyed - your social life, finances, career prospects, or even the lives of your close ones - by walking back into that pawnshop of hers.

She doesn't ask for what you seek nor what you desire - those are irrelevant in the face of her own. No, she asks if you've come back to your senses, a pet name rolling off her lips oh-so-naturally as if she hadn't constructed your downfall.

A contract is placed in front of you, the written words melting together into an indecipherable mess. Her signature was the only legible word in the entire document, with a blank spot ready for your own. 

You may gain everything you've naively wished for many years ago with a few strokes of ink - insurmountable wealth, a lavish lifestyle, and a lack of mundane worries - but gilded chains are still chains.

[stale-trash]

˚ʚꨄ︎ɞ˚ ᴅʀᴇꜱꜱ ᴜᴘ ˚ʚꨄ︎ɞ˚

ᴄᴡ: ʏᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇ/ᴘᴏꜱꜱᴇꜱꜱɪᴠᴇ ʙᴇʜᴀᴠɪᴏʀ, ʟᴏᴀᴅꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴍᴀɴɪᴘᴜʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴ, ɪᴍᴘʟɪᴇᴅ ᴠɪᴏʟᴇɴᴄᴇ, ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴏɴᴇ ɪꜱ ᴀ ᴘᴇʀᴠ ʜᴏᴡ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ᴡᴇʟᴛ, ʜɪᴍᴇᴋᴏ, ᴀɴᴅ ᴋᴀꜰᴋᴀ ɪɴꜰʟᴜᴇɴᴄᴇ ʏᴏᴜʀ ꜱᴛʏʟᴇ? (ꜰᴇᴍ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ) ᴀ/ɴ: ᴄᴏᴜʟᴅɴ'ᴛ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴅᴏɴᴇ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴡɪᴛʜᴏᴜᴛ ᴍʏ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ʙʀᴀɪɴ ᴄᴇʟʟ, @mini-ism

Welt Yang - teaches you!

This arrangement arose from the time you asked for fashion advice from the man. He was someone you went to regardless of topic for those easily digestible explanations, so why would this be any different? 

Welt meets your expectations and exceeds them as per usual. The outfits he creates with you best compliments your form - seamlessly incorporating your preferred style and elevating it. Slowly but surely, your wardrobe is impacted by his influence. With the clothes he bought alongside you and various accessories that he personally teaches you how to properly wear, it's hard to find an article not linked to him in some manner.

It's important for him to be subtle with his ulterior motives. Teaching you the basics of cohesive and practical dressing is important, but the opportunity to dress you up with little resistance is unbelievably tempting. For that to occur, Welt ensures to spread his influence at a snail's pace, always course-correcting based on your responses. Slow and steady does win the race for a reason.

Ambiguity is imperative to him. Maintaining the image of the resident wise mentor figure as he carefully guides you into making the first move is key to avoiding any…unnecessary actions. Observant ones would simply raise an eyebrow at it all, having no concrete proof of any questionable behavior on his part, and the more oblivious would see him as nothing more than a doting mentor. The perverted would recognize their kin, but to judge would be hypocritical. 

By the time he has you willingly modeling clothes that show more than they hide, you'd be firmly in his grasp. It'd be best for you to be ignorant of the depths of his emotions and simply accept the sanitized version. It's more romantic, you see; your long-time crush reciprocating your feelings is a more heart-warming story than one of a perverted man manipulating you. 

Ignorance is bliss, just leave the burden of knowing the unsavory truth to him.

Kafka - infects you!

The Stellaron Hunter is notoriously elusive in a variety of manners. She is as mysterious as she is dangerous, unpredictable as she is fearless, confident as she is hypnotic - to be caught in her web is inevitable.

It's hard to pin-point when exactly your unconscious conceded self-expression into her hands. Maybe it was gradual, your control over your clothes slowly crumbling as her web tightened around you. Maybe various coats encroach upon your wardrobe the longer she trespasses upon your life. Maybe you gravitate towards clothes she'd approve the more she looks over you out of fear, validation, or a sickening mix.

Or maybe, it happened overnight - either way, your wardrobe is now infested with coats. 

Some come in pairs, intended to be worn as a matching set, and others have clear owners. Some are still warm, and others emanate a soft scent. All make you sick, and none you can avoid.

To free yourself now is nothing more than a far-gone dream. Every movement entangles you further into her intoxicating embrace. 

She calls it beauty, you call it cruelty.

No matter what you did or said, nothing could possibly faze the woman. Even now, Kafka smiled softly, her plush lips glistening with the motion yet her eyes reflected that indescribable emotion. It’s too complicated and intense to simply be blank, yet too unfeeling and unnerving to be anything else. 

“Go on,” she cooed, her words wrapping around your form akin to the coat hanging off your shoulders, “give me a twirl~”

Kafka’s ‘request’ was punctuated with a little handwave, her silver rings catching the dim lights. It was clear all her focus was on you - her little model wearing nothing but a custom-tailored coat - as she sipped her wine lazily. 

So you twirled. You ignored how the cool night air caressed your clammy skin. You ignored how her scent permeated your skin and clogged your nose. You ignored how her coat brushed against your bare skin as if she was behind you, caressing your skin. You ignored the glimpses of your reflection and Kafka’s pleased expression. You ignored how she hummed in appreciation.

You ignored the burst of pride within you.

“Keep it,” she drawled as she swirled her wine like a sommelier, “you’re quite the sight.” 

You ignored the gentle waves of gratefulness that washed over your taut body. 

More coats now occupy your closet, and more emanate a familiar soft scent.

Himeko - dresses you!

Knowledgeable, confident, and elegant - these words might as well be synonyms for the navigator of the Astral Express. She inspires with her words and actions, a role-model for all.

It’s hard not to feel a bit underwhelming when you’re next to her. Like a shadow beneath the fire, it was simply nature - the laws of physics at work. Some were just meant to be more radiant than others and you’ve come to terms with it. Yet, you never considered the possibility that the light would shine above you, gently casting away your shadowy covers. 

Your closet was restructured carefully in her vision for you. It was hard to disagree with her when she was simply so radiant, washing away every one of your concerns with her warm touch. 

Whenever you got dressed for the day, you could feel her guidance surrounding you - her radiance casting away the dullness that perpetually surrounded you. Her approving smile and warm caresses only certified how right you were to trust her; she would never lead you astray.

But Himeko did. 

Her vision for you was a caged bird, a sight only she could enjoy. 

She’ll water you with compliments whenever you comply with her vision, and appreciate how you blossom under her care. She’ll prune any unwanted behavior with a little punishment, and cultivate you back onto her desired path.

Every outfit you now wear has a rose somewhere - whether it be an accessory or embedded within your clothes. The soft yet bitter aroma of coffee permeated your very being like a permanent fragrance. But for Himeko, this was far from enough.

What good was an invisible cage? A sign unreadable by most? A collar with no owner’s name?

It was cute when you didn’t understand her vision, yet imperative that others do. So she’d personally dress you in clothes that emulated the spirit of her own, occasionally giving you her own pieces to wear.

Your cute concerns would be washed away with a warm smile and an even warmer touch. Don’t you want to boost your confidence? What better way than to dress like her - to look like her?

One day, it’ll be her coat she helps you wear properly, even adjusting it throughout the day with a genial smile. Another day, it’ll be a matching golden rose choker she snaps onto your neck.

But her favorite look on you is a red toga dress with a white lining with the high slit on the right-side. Together, you’d match as perfect inverses of each other. Some days, she’d give you the accompanying black mini-skirt, gently forcing you to sit on her bed as she slipped it onto your legs. Yet, most of the time, your legs were exposed to Himeko’s delight. Her hands would rest against your thigh like another accessory, and caress your skin ever so gently until it was rubbed raw. There was no need to hide your beauty from her, she’d reason, it was just the two of you here.

Her vision was lost on you, but you were happy -  happy to finally shine as brightly as your beloved navigator. It didn’t matter - or perhaps register - that your only appreciator was Himeko.

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A mini-psa but please have your age in your blog somewhere easily viewable (can just be a simple 18+). If you openly interact with my works and don't have such an indicator, I may block you.

You've probably guessed, but this blog is NSFW, and as such, I'm not comfortable with minors/ageless blogs engaging with my works.

I hope you understand!

[stale-trash]

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