#it's almost a drabble

[lmx-v3point3]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Jesters Of Ravenloft (Podcast) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Major Character Death Relationships: Del Borovic/Lucretia Sanguine Characters: Jesters!Del Borovic, Jesters!Tyler Hewitt, Lucretia Sanguine Additional Tags: Major Spoilers, Spoilers for 3.74, SPOILERS FOR SEASON 3 FINALE, Do I tag for RPF? This podcast makes this complicated because it's not like RPF but..., RPF, This is too many tags for such a short nothing Summary:

Again, and again, and again

[softaestluv]

more! | mlist ✎ᝰ.ᐟ

Just thinking about Ghost having a shy, quiet wife. The glaring opposite of Ghost, painted in black and blood while you’re adorned in lace and frills. Smooth skin and delicate flesh, warm eyes and a bashful smile. Soft-spoken and so fucking sweet.

No one else knows about you, or that he’s married, not from lack of wanting people to know he has such a pretty dove waiting for him at home, but because he knows all the men on base would eat you alive.

But one day, he forgets the lunch you made him. It takes everything in you to refrain yourself from driving to base to make sure he has something to eat— you know he doesn’t have the healthiest eating habits.

You choose to message him, something he usually responds fairly quickly to. Always at your beck and call just in case his sweet girl needs him, but he doesn’t answer. Your lips are pinched raw with worry by the time you decide to get in your car.

So, imagine everyone’s surprise when a sergeant interrupts the meeting Ghost’s in— ‘Lieutenant, um, Mrs. Riley is waiting outside for you.’

Ghost is on his feet in an instant, it must be some emergency if you’re there. He rushes to the hallway, everyone else in the room stumbling behind to snoop through the thin crack of the door, see who their big bad Lieutenant is married to.

And there you are, Tupperware container in your manicured hands, white dress covering your frame with matching ribbons and bows in your hair. The look on your face is anxious, right up until you see Ghost, your eyes softening as he approaches you with wide strides despite the fact that he’s twice your size, hulking and threatening.

“Sweet’art, everything okay? You’re not hurt, are you?” He asks, brows furrowing as he does a once over your figure, checking for injury.

You exhale a quiet laugh, “No, baby. You just forgot your lunch, and you didn’t answer your phone so I got worried you would go the whole day without eating.”

He cups your jaw, a smile breaking out on his face. His sergeants are baffled for several reasons— they did not expect their Lieutenant to be married to such a sweet thing, nor had they ever heard their Lieutenant speak in such a soft, hushed tone, never seen him touch something with such care, like you were so fragile in the palms of his hands.

They would’ve thought it was all a joke if it wasn’t for the massive diamond ring on your finger, or the way you pushed deeper into his touch.

“Sorry, dove, just been in a meetin’ all day.”

He stamps a kiss against your lips, lets himself linger just a little longer than he should because he knows the whole room is watching from behind the door.

“Sweetest little wife, aren’t you?”

[maiiuelle]

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rafe got you a nintendo switch in hopes of keeping you occupied — not that he doesn’t like to spend time with you, it’s just that he’s a very busy man, and you need a distraction when he’s off handling business.

your cozy game addiction started with an innocent folder on his phone, and now rafe’s paying for your annual nintendo online membership. you have all the basics — mario kart, stardew valley, pokemon, and your favorite, animal crossing.

obsessed is an understatement — your manicured hands are glued to your baby pink nintendo switch at all hours of the day, hard at work on your animal crossing island. your intense focus on decorating keeps you from hearing rafe return home, his eyes skimming over where you’re laying over the arm of tannyhill’s leather couch.

“you’re still playing that goddamn game?” he sighs, squinting at you in disbelief that you’re not coming to hang off of him like you usually do. instead, he swaggers over to where you’re sitting with his hands in his sweatpants pockets.

“yeah, rafe. i have a lot to do.” you respond matter of factly, not bothering to take your eyes off the little screen. “i have to catch all these fish before next month, pay back my home loan, and decorate the campsite. and that’s just today, if i can get through it all.” you shake your head at the stress, but you shrug as if it’s unavoidable, still laser focused on planting flowers in the game. “i want my island to be pretty and nice for my villagers. i mean — if i don’t take care of it who will?”

you finally pause, lowering the switch to cover your mouth suddenly. “ew.. i sound like you.” you peer up at him looming over you, your head practically hanging off the side of the couch.

“wh—what?” he rears back, visibly offended. “i do not sound like that, okay — first of all.” he gestures to himself, poking at his chest through his preppy collared shirt. “‘n i don’t talk to fuckin’ cats all day, alright? i got real business — real shit i gotta take care of.” he smacks his hand, trying to drive home the point for you. then, like the realization had just hit him, he presses his lips into a line, tapping his temple. “y’know what? at least now maybe you can understand the stress i’m under runnin’ all this shit.”

you raise your eyebrows at him, his frustrated tirade only proving you right. “you’re right, you sound totally different.”

“aight, i’m done with you. seriously.” he throws his hands up, his short fuse slowly fizzling out. “you gonna put that away and gimme a kiss or not?”

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[ruinix]

God I might get in trouble for saying this but when I say I need to worship the man that is quinn hughes I mean it!

Hello, lovely. Here, you will never be in trouble, coz it is Quinn who will be in trouble for existing and being hot. 🙂‍↕️ This should be a simple thought….but….it became a full drabble. [This thot is also inspired by an excerpt i saw in Instagram (see at the end)] Severely no BETA. It is 3AM when i finish it.

Burning Touches

TW/CW: 18+ MDNI, Smut, Hurt/Comfort (slight), Body worship (m!receving), Teasing, Unprotected Sex (protections, please. It’s important, lovely), Overstimulation (m), Quinn is being pathetic (kinda subby if you squint. He is definitely. / Switch notes) or he is just too weak for you 😉

Count: 1716 words | Masterlist | Taglist

Quinn shivers the moment your hands finally touch his skin after hours of you tracing soft circles over his shirt. His hands grip the sheets to prevent himself from breaking his promise not to pounce on you and let you do what you want to do, because he will. He’s so close when all he can see is you on top of him.

Your eyes are glazed as you pour every bit of your attention on him.

The longer this goes on, the more he yearns for it. Every second, every minute, every hour, every day. That is all he wants. Him occupying your mind, because you occupy his. Every fucking day of the year.

When your finger slips under the hem of his shirt, he groans, nearly jumping at how quickly your eyes meet his, falling to his throat like you’ve marked the very sound that came straight from his fucking soul. Because it truly did. He’s fully bare. All his soul. All his body even fully clothed. All his mind. Every inch of him is at your mercy.

Then up, up and up, your hand travels. You purposely scratch your nails on his skin, marking and staking your claim with streaks. Physically temporary. Mentally permanent. Do you realize that? Every scratch you’ve made on his body is forever ingrained in his soul. Every single one.

All he can do is moan, pathetically thrusting his hips up for relief that he’s not at all getting because you aren’t sitting on his cock. Just on his thighs. His fucking thighs that are covered by his fucking sweatpants. Damn it.

‘Just why didn’t he just wear his boxers? Why did he pick these sweatpants after the shower? Just why?’ he hounds past self.

"Take it off, Quinn," you order, bringing him back to his reality.

You don’t need to expound. He understands, quickly sitting up, tugging his shirt with one hand, whimpering like a fool when you climbed off him so he can also remove his pants and briefs. His heart is aching at the smallest distance from you standing off the bed, your hands behind you. Too far. You’re too far. You shouldn’t be this far away from him. This shouldn’t be allowed.

You’re just two feet away, but it feels like you’re on the other side of a cliff where the connecting bridge has rotted and broken from the middle, effectively not letting him cross when all he needs is to be stuck to your skin. It won’t matter to him if there will be a deadly drop of sharp stone edges or a raging river. He will climb down—jump down if necessary—and crawl his way up to get to you. He needs you.

Despite his need, he only stares as he burns. He’s on fire as your burning-yet-dazed eyes soak in every detail of his body, taking your time. From his tousled hair, to the strands falling on his temple, to his slightly overgrown beard, to his shoulders, to his chest, to his abs, to his leaking cock, to his legs, down to his fucking toes. That makes him squirm, sitting back down with weak knees, his breaths coming in harder and harder.

His cock twitches when your eyes land on it. When your tongue darts out to sensually lick your lower lip, he falls further down steps of insanity. It hurts. His cock aches. So much. He needs to be touched by you. He needs to be fucked by you. He needs you more than ever.

Yet he sits, because he needs you to see how good he can be. For you.

 So good as he silently gazes at you, yearning for nothing more but your slightest touch.

"Just one touch. Please. Please. My Love," is the plea that got stuck at the tip of his tongue. The plea that he hopes you can see in his eyes, in the way he trembles. You must see him. He begs you to see.

The relief he feels when you step forward, crossing the impossible distance, is overflowing. Then you touch him, your palm meeting his chest, pushing so gently yet firmly. He fucking whines. You touched him. Now, he’s shaking even more. Too rattled. The anticipation is getting too much that his eyes burn from unshed tears. He can barely think as he follows your wordless order. He moves back to lay down. He gasps when you mount him. A lazy smile on your pretty face makes his chest tighten.

Why are you so beautiful? You are literally glowing. It’s probably the warm light of the lamps that you’ve carefully picked that made his house a home for both of you.  Yeah, the lights. But it’s you. You glow because you’re you. You glow because you are the light of his life.

A beacon that saves him in the darkness of nights.

No matter how exhausted he is—from the game losses, from the harsh speculations about him leaving, from the coldness of his teammates, his friends, being moved, from the cruel reality that his happiness doesn’t—or won’t ever—matter in the team after he gave everything for the team—you’re there to make it all better.

Oh, he’s lucky to have you.

His love.

He only realizes that he is silently crying when your thumbs brush away his tears, when you lean down and start to kiss the falling drops. You’re here. Always.A broken sob finally escapes him when you press your forehead against his. No words or permissions need to be said. He brings his arms around you as he seeks more comfort. The heated moment takes a pause. He cries because he needs to let it out and you know that.

“Don’t leave me,” he pleads. “Ever.”

“I won’t,” you immediately reply with no hesitation. “I’m here.”

“Again.” He tightens his hold.

“I’m here.”You squeeze your thighs against his sides, putting your weight on his chest, to ground him. It works. It always does. You repeat, “I’m here, Quinn.”

He cries and cries. He feels so vulnerable and so safe. He can be who he is, feel what he feels, break when he needs to, because you will always walk beside him, stop with him, wait with him as he gathers his pieces back together. You see him. All of him.

And he sees you.

He loves that he matches everything you give him. He will never be tired of doing so.

For minutes you two stay like that. Holding one another. Until his tears dry. Until he purges all the negativity with the help of your light that guides and that incinerates what needs to be gone. Until all that’s left is him still being absolutely fucking horny. His cock is begging for release as you softly rub your pussy over him, so slowly, so deliberate, because you know that his need is now different.

You press soft kisses all over his face, neglecting his lips where he needs it the most. Your hands slowly guide his to the headboard where he understands it should stay. He gulps and grips the bar. Shivers run down his spine because you don’t move to secure his wrists with the shackles dangling there for him to use on you or for you to use on him. Now, it’s for the latter, but you don’t use it. You simply trust him to keep his hands there. He won’t betray your trust. Not ever.

You kiss him lower. To every part of his body that you took your time drinking in earlier. He burns and burns and burns. So much more that you are touching him. Your lips ignite goosebumps on his skin, your tongue darting out to taste every bead of sweat that appears.

Your silent yet so loud repeated and cycling murmurs strum the strings of his soul, “You’re beautiful. You’re handsome. You’re strong. You’re amazing. You’re clever. You’re tenacious. You’re the very best.”

So affirming.

So touching.

He feels worshiped. Every kiss, every lick, every word affirms him. He feels loved. You love him. Only fool would be blind to that fact. Quinn is not a fool.

So, for every compliment, he answers, “I love you.”

Even if you don’t need to, once or twice, you reciprocate, “I love you too.”

When you kiss every exposed inch of him except for his lips and cock, you move up his body with more. Only now, your kisses are more of bites than kisses like you want to eat him.

You are eating him.

And instead of ‘I love you’s, while his knuckles are turning white as he grips the bar harder that he feels his arms cramping, his soul reverberating with every beat of his heart, he says “Please. Bite down harder.”

He needs you to leave bruises.

He needs you to break into his skin and make him bleed.

He needs you to swallow the slightest drops of blood of him.

He needs it so much.

Then, instead of compliments, you chuckle against his skin. Your eyes twinkle as you meet his pleading eyes. You murmur, mocking him, “Oh, you would like that, huh, Handsome?”

You won’t leave marks.

Not even the slightest imprint of your teeth. Not even the slightest discoloring for a hickey.

Not when he begs and whines and whimpers. Not when you sink your pussy down his cock. Not even when you fuck him after telling him not to move. Not when your pussy clenches around him so hard that he comes for you.

Over and over again.

However, when his mind is raw and fuzzy from how much you milk his cock that he can’t physically come anymore and when a tear of frustration escapes him, you finally bite down hard into his neck until his skin breaks.

Pain and pleasure shoot down his exhausted body. His cock twitches, aching and wanting to come but nothing comes out.

He is blacking out, his hands letting go of the bar, falling on the bed, not even going around you. He’s so spent.

Any noise is getting muffled, yet he hears your breathless and exhausted words so clearly.

“Such a good boy, Quinn. You did so well for me.”

The excerpt (I fear I got no link to source because I only screenshotted it days ago and it didn't leave my head one bit):

Good night 💙💙💙 I love you, sweeties, lovelies.

[samaraxmorgan]

It seems like once again you’ve accidentally found a way to annoy the life out of your roommate Sukuna. You’ve been playing your favorite song on repeat, over and over and over again when you’re in the shower, cleaning up around the apartment, he’s even caught you humming it while cooking.

And maybe he wouldn’t be so frustrated with it if he liked the song, but he really truly doesn’t. Too much of a stubborn metal head to even give it a chance. Or at least that’s what you thought.

He swears up and down that he hates that stupid song, but when you come home early from work you can hear something up in his room, his guitar. You always assumed he only had that thing for decoration, shiny dark red and signed in black sharpie by him and his friends hanging up on the wall collecting dust, but it turns out he actually plays.

And what does he play in particular? Your favorite song when he thinks you can’t hear it. Now you just have to decide if you’re gonna have this knowledge be your little secret, or if you’re gonna embarrass him later when you tell him about the time you caught him being a little liar.

Your Roommate Sukuna series masterlist here!!

Let me know if you would like to be added to the taglist!! Divider by @adornedwithlight

[staytrueblue]

captain john price x female reader. mentions of sexual actions. those who feel inspired can continue the story bcs i dont feel comfortable writing smut yet <3

It had been a long fucking day. You’re exhausted when you finally curl up on your side of the bed, phone in hand, newest fanfiction chapter pulled up.

The tension is steadily building in your friends to lovers fic when you feel it.

Strong arms wrapping around your waist, hot breath, and rough whiskers against your neck. A warm body pressing itself against your side of the massive king-sized bed.

“Babe.”

“Mumph.”

“What was the point of a king-sized bed if you shove me off the side every night.”

You feel the body shift backward a little bit, bringing you with him into the center of the bed.

Sighing you snuggle in, going back to ao3 as you feel his rough palm sliding across your stomach and waist pulling you closer against the hardness of his body.

Ignoring the heat pressed behind you, you try to focus on the story in front of you. The characters now actively in the miscommunication trope as you feel large hips start to rut against the softness of your ass.

“Johnathan Michael Price.”

The rutting stops as the grown ass man whines from behind you.

Setting your phone on the nightstand stand you shift around, a bearded pouting face looking at you.

There are days you are so happy that he feels safe and comfortable enough to put down the walls and boundaries built up by the military when he’s around you. That he isn’t Captain Price in your home or in this bed.

It’s been an exceptionally long day, however, and patience for the pouting and rutting and touching is at its limit. But his eyes were wide and sweet as he watched you.

“John.” You say softer.

“Just missed you lovie.” His voice rumbled as he rubbed his face against the pillow like a cat.

“Baby you’ve been home for a month now.”

His voice came muffled from the pillow his face was now shoved into “Still not enough.”

“Hmm.” You reach out, brushing your fingers through his chest hair gently. He wilts into it, settling back into the bed.

“Just need some attention baby?”

“Mmm”, a hand reached around to your chest groping gently.

————————————————————————

those who feel inspired can take it from here :)

[writingbluerose]

COMING BACK AGAIN WITH THIS

Barbatos made a visit on my Pinterest today and I saw that his pj looked oddly familiar and then I realized why I felt like Jade's silk pajamas felt like I've seen them before! He looks just like Barbatos!

I love my guys who could definitely be malewifes

[ssongsboo]

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❕ : happy sion day ᰔᩚ

⟢ she keep me going .ᐟ

the lingerie was supposed to be a surprise.

a look-but-don’t-touch-yet moment.

but then he kissed you like he missed you from the other room, like the day wasn’t long enough to be apart. and your knees just sort of… hit the floor on instinct.

“fuck, baby,” he groans, head thrown back as your lips wrap around him. “you’re too good to me.”

your mouth’s full and your hands are busy- one pumping what you can’t fit, the other gripping his thigh to keep yourself grounded. it’s messy already, spit sliding down your chin, lipgloss smudged into a sticky ring at the base of his cock.

you’re trying to impress him. to give him something to remember when he closes his eyes tonight.

and you are.

but sion’s eyes catch something else- something behind you- and his breath stutters.

“fuck-”

you blink up at him, confused, lips still wrapped around his dick. he gently grabs your jaw, pulls you off with a wet pop, and angles your face toward the mirror on the far wall. your brows knit together, cheeks flushed, mouth shiny and open.

“look,” he pants. “look at yourself.”

you turn slightly, confused- until you see it.

your reflection. on your knees, back arched like a goddamn wet dream. and behind you, framed perfectly: the swell of your ass in that see-through lace, the way your thighs twitch every time you moan around him. and worst of all- the way your cunt clenches around nothing, desperate and fluttering like it misses him.

his cock twitches in your grip.

“you’re fucking dripping,” he growls. “sucking me off like a good girl but leaking all over the floor like you need to be split open. you like this?”

you nod, almost dazed. “i love it.”

“yeah? you like being seen?” he fists your hair, dragging your mouth back to his cock. “i’ll keep watching, baby. watch how pretty you look gagging on me.”

so he watches as your throat bulges, as tears glitter in your lashes, as your lips stretch around him. and behind you, the lace sticks tighter to your heat, slick making the fabric glisten. your hips grind subtly, needy, empty.

“fuck,” sion chokes out. “i’m gonna cum just watching you fuck yourself on air.”

you whimper around him, trying to take him deeper, and he loses it- hips jerking forward, hand tight in your hair, voice wrecked and raw as he spills down your throat.

you swallow all of it.

wipe your mouth with the back of your hand. blink up at him through glittering lashes.

he looks down at you like you’re a fucking miracle.

“get on the bed,” he growls. “mirror’s staying right where it is. i want you to see what i do to you. how good you are for me.”

[chuluoyi]

✎ baby

- gojo satoru x reader

a domestic life with your husband and baby

genre: teeth-rotting fluff, sugary dump fluff, and simply pure fluffff, baby-related, mentions of pregnancy, dad!gojo

note: inspired by this fanart by Deltapork in twitter! from the moment i saw that artwork, i just can't get this out of my head😫

and this is a part of a series of gojo drabbles i’ve planned called gojo's love entries anthology -> updated masterlist here

general masterlist

Watching your husband entertain your child would never fail to make you smile.

"Aw, my cute baby!" Satoru joyfully exclaimed as he and the baby, secure in his hold, emitted almost harmonious squeals of delight. Both of them practically shared the same brain cells at this point.

And it was a sight that warmed your heart so much, especially when the old Gojo Satoru was a prick who used to made little Megumi cry just for the sake of it and always said that babies and everything that came with them were a pain.

He playfully devoured your son's plump cheeks and burst into laughter, paying no attention to the curious glances he garnered from other shoppers at the supermarket.

"Satoru, hush," you chided gently as you pushed the cart, yet still smiling all the same.

"Ah, look, mama doesn't approve," he remarked to your babbling son, wearing a playful pout. At the same time, your barely seven-month baby puckered his lips too, turning him into a perfect miniature version of your mischievous husband at his best, melting your heart even further.

"It's time for his milk," you pointed out, retrieving the milk bottle. Satoru reached for it and offered it to your baby, who eagerly latched on and started drinking.

Your precious baby continued to feed on the formula, clearly relishing it. It appeared that he couldn't get enough, with the way he drank with such enthusiasm.

"He's a hungry baby... just like you," you mused.

Satoru laughed out loud once again. "Why are you comparing a baby with a grown-ass man?"

Your son was still drinking the milk and seemed like he wanted more, but you could definitely tell how content he was in that moment.

"Because it's your baby, duh. And not only he looks like you, he's also reflecting what you've been doing to me so far, it's uncanny."

"So I've turned our son into a mini-me now, have I." He regarded you with a mischievous glint in his eye. "And what have I done to you, darling? Tell me."

"...A lot of bad things."

"Heh, is that so?"

The baby then stopped drinking and seemed to want you to cuddle him, as he reached his tiny hands towards you. Satoru handed him over to you, taking the bottle away, and you gently pulled him close, cradling him against your chest.

"Yeah. Bad, bad things," you cooed to your baby, your eyes sparkling with joy. "First you seduced me, then got me pregnant. And then you forced me to go through that painful labor."

Satoru didn't miss the way the clerk eyed him after you said that. But he chuckled anyway. "Well... in the end you fell for me, and I probably seduced you a bit..."

He paid for the groceries and then the two of you walked out of the supermarket.

"But is that so bad?" He continued with a meaningful smirk. "You seemed like you love it so there's nothing to complain about."

"Hmph."

"And then I got you pregnant... well, you wanted a baby, dear, so you can't really be mad and blame just me for it all, okay?"

The fact that you were having this crack conversation at a crossroad made you struggle to stifle your laughter, to say the least.

Your son was still cuddling up to your chest and now he was looking at you with those wide, glassy blue eyes. You could tell how much he liked and needed you, as well as spending time with you, his mother.

This is your baby with the man who loves you. How could you not love him in return?

Satoru looked at his son in your arms. “Our son is the cutest, isn’t he?”

He seemed tired more than anything though, with the big yawn he just emitted.

“He is so… defenseless.”

“Well, he’s a baby,” your husband said matter-of-factly. “That’s how babies are, darling. He’s learning how to do things and completely defenseless, so he needs his parents. You and I.”

Your baby’s eyes became a little droopy. He was sleepy now, and wanted your warmth to fall asleep.

“Let’s… protect him together, yeah, Satoru?” you muttered softly as your child settled in your embrace, peaceful and content, falling asleep.

Your heartstrings were pulled when you witnessed the expression of absolute adoration on your husband's face.

“Silly. I’m the one who will protect both of you, sweetheart.”

[323cutie]

i have to bother someone about this cause what is his problem; new wy courreges footage. cum gutters dot com -🫧

cum gutters dot com is SENDING MEEEEEE. this ones for u nonnie (and also for me). also i was listening to sleep token while writing this so do with that info what you will

cw ୨୧ making out (kind of), insinuated sexting, wooyo being a little shit as always, ab riding<3, dirty talk (like filth nasty almost), teasing, finger sucking, breeding kink but like BARELY, mention of penetrative sex but it doesn't actually happen

18+ mdni!!

Your brain clocks back in just enough to fully grasp Wooyoung's words.

His hands stall, but don't stop, their caressing of your body, curious eyes watching your face as you comprehend. You swallow and he grins, hands running up your back to push you closer to him. You shift and grind over his lap and both of you sigh at the friction.

Knowing full well what he said, you ask, "what?"

Wooyoung hums, nosing at the junction of your shoulder and your neck before licking a small stripe along your artery. "Talkin' so much about how hot I was," he starts, voice fake-sweet in your favorite way. "I remember your texts, too, baby. Ride my abs."

Your body involuntarily shivers and he laughs, pleased with how easy it is for him to get under your skin. He's right, unfortunately -- every night he was away for Paris fashion week was filled with miserable, horny text messages from you about how sexy he looked, how pretty his skin was, how mad you were that he didn't give you any warning about his outfits. And since he came over it's all you've been able to think about, all you've been able to say... in no time at all you're adjusting your position on the couch and pushing him to lay down on his back.

"You're so annoying," you say, pushing your panties down and refusing to look at the wet spot on the center lest Wooyoung decides to tease you about that, too. Your hands pull his shirt up just enough so that you have room to move and you sigh through your next works. "Total freak."

He hums, patient, letting you feel him up. "It's my job as your boyfriend," he answers cheekily, leaning forward to grab at your ass and pull you up. "Can practically smell how much you want it, baby, come on."

Your face and ears burn but you let him guide you forward until you're sitting on his torso, pussy nudged perfectly between the ridges of his abs. If you wanted to be romantic about it you could, something about how every part of you fits together with him, but you move your hips forward and the pressure and pattern is so good you think your brain starts melting.

"That's it," Wooyoung encourages once you pick up a rhythm, jaw dropped to his chest as he watches you move. "Fuck, sweetheart, look at you. So wet... pretty pussy loves this, huh? Feels good?"

You moan and he mirrors it, but he grabs your face to meet your eyes. "I asked a question, baby. Feelin' good?"

You're nodding before you even realize it, frantic, already panting. Wooyoung grins, tenses his abs, watches your pace falter because it's just too good. "Didn't know you were so easy," he says, hand resting on your hip. You feel crazy, the pleasure blurring the edges of your sight while Wooyoung's words go straight to your core. "Missed me that bad? You're fucking drooling... can't wait to fuck you, haven't been in this pussy for so long, gonna fill you up just right --"

You cut him off by shoving two fingers in his mouth, hooking them over his tongue so he stops talking. He whines and in turn you grind a little faster. "S...Shut up," you mumble out. Your apartment is filled with pants and whimpers and the sounds of you dripping all over his abs, and even now you feel insatiable. The promise of Wooyoung fucking you presses deliciously against your ass when you move back far enough.

"Gonna come first," you breathe out, meeting Wooyoung's eyes. They're glassy and dark, and you feel him bite down on your fingers hard enough to ache. "G-Gonna come, then you can fill me up."

[absoluteminimum]

Have you met Minimus's foundling? Soon Steeljaw will be much too big to carry.

[diz-eaze]

THE WAY I LOVE YOU (yandere! genshin women x female reader)

; soft yandere, written in 2023, pre-sumeru pre-fontaine and pre-natlan, manipulation, unhealthy relationships. characters listed; eula, mona, beidou, ganyu, hu tao, ningguang, shenhe, yelan, ayaka, kokomi, ei, yae, lumine, sandrone, arlecchino.

; Yandere drabbles.

MAYBE YOU had just been in the wrong place and at the wrong time. It started out innocently enough, going outside the city on Mondstadt to explore more areas - because there's more to life than just your everyday city, despite how EULA may protest against it. Despite how she claims that staying in Mondstadt is the best choice.

While you certainly do respect Eula, you disagree with her views. You're not someone born to just be limited within a city - you're not.

And so, with Eula's ignorance, you set off into the dark night to venture out into the green fields. Because you'll be fine, you know that. There's going to be hilichurls milling around but it's nothing that you can't handle, hopefully - you'll just run away or hide when you see one, easy enough.

When you do encounter one, your plan to hide crumbled miserably - not knowing there was a twig in your spot, you ended up stepping on it, resulting in a loud crack and thus alerting the nearby hilichurls. Running away from them isn't an option; you're trapped in your supposed hiding spot as the monsters circle around it.

Fighting back is a possibility, but you're so weak - you don't even have a vision, let alone carry around a weapon. So pray to tell, just how exactly can you win against them?

So, you think with acceptance, this is how you die. Disobeying your dear friend Eula only for you to end up getting mauled by the hilichurls - if you weren't in this life-threatening situation, you'd be embarrassed and sheepishly tell her that she'd been right all along. You can't, obviously.

It's useless to be sentimental, to cry - but you still do, feeling great pity for your friend. If you had just been more logical and accepted Eula's protective tendencies - you'd probably still be inside your apartment back in the city and enjoying the cool breeze.

You're not getting out of here alive and Eula is just going to wake up tomorrow to the news of your disappearance and discover your mangled body out in the wild-

In a split second, it seems like your surroundings looked so surreal as you spot blue in the distance - light blue hair, wielding a blue claymore. Blue, blue, blue. Are you hallucinating now? So desperate to live that your mind started conjuring up false images.

Hallucinating or not, you still hope - because it's the last thing you can do in this situation. But when the distant blur of blur gets closer and the features of the person are clearer - it's been made known to you that it is indeed Eula, angry and worried - but still Eula.

Relief floods into your body and you start crying for a different reason, glad to live to see another day. Because Eula is here to save you - to make sure you get back to the city alive and well. Though, one thought pesters in your mind, rolling around and never leaving you,

How had Eula known you went outside the city at night?

Astrology and magic have never been your strong suit. MONA knows that all too well - which is probably more reason as to why she's hellbent on teaching you what she knows about it. From her expensive books that contained teachings on astrology to her directly guiding you throughout the process of hydromancy, Mona doesn't cut corners when it comes to you.

Because in her eyes, maybe if you come to understand the inner workings of fate the way she does - then maybe you'll begin to find reasons behind her abhorrent actions - reasons why she's adamant when it comes to loving you.

But even as of right now, as Mona's hydro vision pulses with life as she uses her scryglass for live demonstration for you - it still stands true, astrology and magic are not your strong suit. It's not like you're imbecilic - you simply just don't find any reason why you'd take up astrology, especially if it's under the wish of Mona.

Still, just to appease her and keep her sated, you entertain the sessions she holds every day. Without a word of complaint or a sound of a groan - you remain compliant and willing because it's the best you can do in your situation.

Eyes focusing on Mona's hydro scryglass, you lazily copy her actions and summon your own. It's pretty, you'll admit - the scryglass. A wonderful gadget that only talented mages can use, you being part of the lucky ones, all thanks to Mona's hard work and dedication in teaching you. In contrast to Mona's blue one, yours is tinted in a different color - a pleasing shade to your eyes, something that lessens the burden of having to sit through her voice for hours on end.

Mona graciously showers you in praise, pride gleaming in her eyes. Then, with expert hands, she taps and maneuvers through the device - knowing it like the back of her hand. She instructs you to perform a basic spell - a transformative one. Turning an apple into another fruit or turning a frog into an inanimate object, it's simple enough.

As if reading off a manual, you follow what she asks - a tap here and there, and with the help of your vision, you turn a piece of paper into a pencil. You vaguely register Mona clapping and huffing in pride, too focused on the result of your spell.

It's so boring to be here and to learn a field that you have no interest in, and as Mona moves on to the next spell - astrology this time, most likely instructing you how to read the fates of other people - you just feel so numb. It's so lifeless to be stuck with Mona.

But like a robot programmed to do what it's told, you follow her instructions without complaint. Time and time again.

Dragging you out of the sweet comfort of your home into the unforgiving seas is BEIDOU's way of showing her love for you - if you can even classify her obsession as that. It's yesterday, you think, when she broke into your house while you were asleep in order to bring you aboard the ship she commands.

You'll love it out here, she boisterously states when you blearily open your eyes - only to be greeted by the sight of a wooden ceiling with Beidou right beside your new bed. This is home now, she says as she gently caresses your cheek. Me and the crew - we're you're new family!

But to be truthful, you'd rather not. Especially after you've been thrown into this predicament with absolutely no remorse for your personal feelings or comfort. In fact, you still haven't completely wrapped your head around reality before Beidou's hasty and swinging your arm to bring you up to the deck - where all her crewmates lie.

There, she introduces you as her lover. Despite your attempts to butt in and correct her, it's all drowned out by the sounds of the crewmates whooping and hollering - many congratulations are offered to Beidou, it seems that they weren't aware that she had a lover before all of this (even now, she still don't have one - you are not her lover, no matter how much she says so).

After the hype around you being introduced as her lover dies down, Beidou takes initiative to introduce you to each of her crew. And after that, I'll tour you around! - she said, tightly clinging onto your waist and not letting go.

The first you meet is Kazuha, a runaway from Inazuma who decided to stay aboard even after things have settled in his homeland. He's a sweet man - poetry and flowery words drip off his tongue like it's nothing and it brings you a sense of flattery when he earnestly compliments your features. A fact that Beidou takes notice of, as before you knew it, you're whisked away to meet another crewmate - Kazuha fading into the background.

You meet Furong, Sea Drake, and Xu Liushi who are all sailors. Huixing is a navigator and Suling is an ironworker. There are others but their names are only at the tip of your tongue - there but not enough for you to remember clearly.

True to her words, Beidou shortly takes you on a tour around the ship after you've met all of the people aboard. She speaks with enthusiasm and so much joy the whole time that you find yourself being envious of her, wishing that you can be happy even in your current situation.

But you're not. Not when you're here against your will - not when you didn't want to cruise the seas at all. You preferred your quaint apartment back in Liyue harbor than this rocky life as some 'lover' to the captain of the Alcor.

Day offs are rare enough for GANYU, considering her position as secretary and unhealthy work schedule - a complete workaholic, after all. But on the rare occasions where she's granted one, Ganyu makes sure to spend her free time with you. Nothing else.

It doesn't matter if the day is mundane or eventful - such fickle things don't matter to Ganyu, as long as you're there it's more than enough.

Though, it seems that Ganyu wanted to take you out into the harbor for her day off. It's a date, she bashfully tells you when you inquired about it. And so, with a muted sigh, you go inside your room to look for appropriate clothing, seeing as it's an important occasion.

It saddens you a bit at how being able to go outside is now a rare occurrence, but you force yourself to not linger on it too much, Think happy thoughts, think happy thoughts - you repeat in your head.

After you pick out a dress - cute and quaint, something that you know Ganyu would enjoy (but she insists that she'll enjoy any outfit that you're wearing, regardless of style), you look for jewelry to match - making sure to pick stones and jewels that suits the blue that Ganyu's hair possesses (It'll please her, you would know).

Because you're not doing this for you, you're doing this for her.

And when you slide the door open, greeted by the sight of Ganyu's awed expression and amazed eyes, you simply smile and thank her (as you have done many times before). She stumbles over, with flushed cheeks and fumbling fingers, to hold your hand - eager to explore the harbor with you by her side, a pretty eye candy.

You giggle at her enthusiasm (A bit too forced than you'd like), and the two of you make your way to the harbor - making idle talk along the way.

This won't be the first time you visit the harbor, but it's been a while. A whole century, if you remember correctly.

After all, the very thing that made Ganyu so attached to you in the first place was your immortality. Someone that can stay by her slides for centuries to come - a person who she doesn't have to fear mortality with.

A perfect fit for her, she'd claim.

During the nighttime, it's normal for the entire city to be sound asleep - with the few exceptions of the millelith on night duty and those who simply have no need to. And at this point, you'd be off to dreamland too, if not for HU TAO, who had persistently dragged you off to Wuhang Hill.

If the two of you were ordinary citizens, it would probably take hours before you'd arrive at the aforementioned destination because of monsters and the like. But as vision bearers, a divine gift from the gods, it was nothing but mere exercise. And so, within an hour or two, you've arrived at the very top - where the creepy forest resides.

Earlier, Hu Tao had joked about her hand being free for you to hold in case you get scared (and you responded by kindly flipping her off), but as you gaze around the mist-heavy forest, you think you'll take her up on that offer. While you're on the edge of being jumpscared by the mere sound of a twig snapping, Hu Tao is at full ease - shoulders drooped and posture relaxed.

"Tao, Why are we even here?" But what you wanted to ask yourself was why did you even agree in the first place?

"Why not?" Comes Hu Tao's lax response, arms crossed behind her head as she mills around the place like she owns it.

You don't reply, unimpressed with her answer. Sensing your displeased attitude, Hu Tao cackles and grabs your shoulders in assurance. "I'm kidding! I'm kidding, We're here to explore, what else?"

"Explore what?" You retort, letting your body get pushed around by her.

"This," Hu Tao gestures to the forest around the two of you. "Duh!"

"Okay," You give in. "Lead the way, miss Hu."

Hu Tao giggles at your words (the sound is nice, you think) and boldly grabs your hand to intertwine with yours. Before you can ask, she beats you to it. "It's so you don't get lost, dummy."

Her hand fits into yours like a perfect puzzle piece (like you're made for her and she's made for you), and you try your best to ignore the way your heart races just thinking about it.

Forcing yourself to stop thinking about it, you smile at Hu Tao and ask her what she's gonna tour to you. It's a secret, she shushes you. So you do - you stay silent and follow where she'll lead you.

"Just make sure you make it quick, Tao." You quietly remind her. "I have plans tomorrow."

She knows, but she can't say it to your face - lest you find out about her stalking you to know your schedule. So Hu Tao grins and nods, grip tightening ever so slowly.

"I will! Don't worry, (Y/N)."

NINGGUANG places a hairpin on the crown of your head; it's a pretty accessory - the hairpin. Designed to imitate a glaze lily and holds the same beauty as the authentic item, it's almost impossible to differentiate the two, if not for the translucent material that the hairpin possesses. The material makes it glitter marvelously under the sunlight and only adds a dreamy gleam when decorated on your tresses.

"A pretty flower for a pretty thing." Ningguang remarks after she's finished securing the piece onto your hair, dainty and perfectly placed - as expected of her. You're sitting on a chair in front of her vanity, all of which screams expensive, bare as the day you were born. She studies your face for a few more seconds before moving on.

The next item to graze your precious skin is a necklace studded in the finest noctilucous jade - the ones that are mined with utmost precision and expertise, all at the order of the tianquan herself. You wouldn't be surprised either if this was custom-made, commissioned to be a glorified collar of yours - an item you will rarely take off and an item meant to symbolize the tianquan's ownership of you.

Still, you smile and thank her earnestly. It's what she taught you, after all.

Ningguang accepts your gratitude with a mirthful chuckle, opting to focus more on her fingers that were faintly tracing along your bare collarbones. Her touch is featherlight and it gives you shivers. After a moment, Ningguang leans in to kiss your lips - her lips are soft and yours are, too. You can still faintly taste the tobacco on her lips, most likely because of her smoking pipe.

For a while, the two of you stay like that - Ningguang savoring your lips as if they were candy and you taking it all, naked with nothing but a glaze lily hairpin and noctilucous jade necklace graced on your body. Ningguang's lips parted from yours slowly (a string of saliva present), maintaining eye contact with you all throughout - the intensity of her red eyes tempts you to look away, but you can't.

So you watch with bated breath as Ningguang wipes away the drool that's close to dripping off your lips.

She leans back soon enough, straying from you for a moment to look for the next item that's blessed enough to be decorated on your body. She comes back, her dainty fingers holding onto two matching sango pearl bracelets, one for each of your hands.

Without command, you hold out your wrists for her to clasp the bracelet on. She does so with such gentleness that it almost hurts, such care that it makes your eyes water - because you've never been loved so thoroughly as Ningguang has before.

Ningguang shushes you because your tears shan't fall for such a measly reason. For her, you deserve to be loved with every fiber of her being, and who would she be if she didn't fulfill that promise?

Prior to meeting you, SHENHE had always thought that she'd never fit into the human world as an adepti-raised mortal. The red ropes that bind her murderous intentions also bind her emotions as a whole - making her a somewhat blank slate of a human. It doesn't mean Shenhe cannot and does not experience emotions - she does, albeit. rarely.

But after Shenhe was blessed to encounter you for the first time, she finally understands what it means to be mortal - to love like one, and to care like one - or at least she thinks so. It's a bit unsettling, how despite the red ropes that bind her homicidal tendencies, some of them are able to bypass such adepti technic, all because of the strong urge to protect you like no other.

You're like a ray of light in Shenhe's bleak world, one that's filled with meditation on top of the mountains and maintaining to control her urges - all of which are repetitive and tedious, but she must, for the better. After meeting you, it opened up a whole new experience for her - the want to accompany you in the harbor, the longing to hold your hand (or maybe give it a quick peck), and the spark in her chest that erupts every time you so much as to smile at her.

You're addicting, Shenhe thinks. A sweet source of dopamine and serotonin - all for her to consume and devour like a man starved.

Sometimes, when you're too busy with life to invite Shenhe to hang out, she takes it upon herself to monitor your movement and watch your day as you mingle about - trying to bury the urge to slam the man down the concrete who previously flirted with you (patience is a virtue and it would be best to strike when there are no witnesses around).

Shene follows you from a distance, not too far to not see you and not too close to be detected - she's self-aware enough that you would not take it kindly if you were to discover the acts that she's been committing, such as stalking and murder. Not that she plans on stopping, she simply worries at the prospect of you distancing yourself from her - which would no doubt break her heart.

So, with skilled precision, Shenhe continues to follow you - remaining undetected with such ease that it's almost unfair.

She's doing this all for you, the love of her life.

Every high-ranking member of the society within the Liyue harbor knows that the Yanshang teahouse is actually a casino, a discreet establishment that only operates during the nighttime - where the gamblers come to life, ready to take on anyone that dares to. And as the owner, YELAN is obliged to indulge in the games that her own casino offers - all while you stick by her side like the good housewife that you are.

Every time you pass by those that occupy the casino, you're always met with curious glances and stupefied stares - Yelan wouldn't blame them, she knows you're a beauty and it's her job to ensure that the clothes and jewelry you're wearing tonight only amplifies this. It's not a crime to show off your significant other, after all.

The dress you're wearing is revealing, beautiful and tantalizing - all for her to undress when the time comes later in the night. It's a color that perfectly complements your (Hair color) hair and (Eye color) eyes, it's so you. The pieces of jewelry hanging off your body only adds more sparkle and expense to your charm - unaffordable to anyone else in the casino, save for Yelan.

But when some stare longer than she'd like, Yelan would bring you closer to her side - hands gripping onto your waist ever so tightly. She's a possessive lover, one that loves to show off - but still possessive nonetheless.

Soon, she settles down for a bit to play a quick game of poker - making sure that you sit down in her lap like the pretty eye candy that you're meant to be. Yelan is lax throughout the entire ordeal, never once letting up on her poker face, and when she inevitably wins - she gives an easy smile before collecting her prize and whisking you away, too.

You see the enraged face of her defeated opponents, though you say nothing. Whatever enemies and allies Yelan makes is none of your business, you're here to sit still and look pretty - not to blabber and annoy. This is something that she drilled into your pretty, empty head - back when your relationship was forced and loveless on your part (now, it's not much different, save for your newfound acting skills).

What she does is none of your business, Yelan is the moneymaker in your relationship - the one that works to bring home money to her adorable wife. While you, as the pretty housewife, is tasked to prepare her delicious homecooked meals and a loving embrace to come home to.

It doesn't matter that you, too, wanted to have a normal job. What Yelan wants, you oblige.

It's always been that way.

Usually, AYAKA would be the one who had an audience. It's her that has eyes all focused on. It's her that catches their captivation. But right now, the star of the show isn't her.

It's you.

You, dancing on the water and defying its properties with your vision. You, dressed in an intricately designed garb for this performance. You, looking as ethereal as the day she first laid her eyes on. You, who moves with grace and practice that only experienced performers could do.

You, you, you.

Ayaka watches with bated breath, utterly hypnotized with everything you do - like she was just a puppet on a string, and you, her puppeteer. She likes to think that during your performances, it's just you and her - no one else.

Just the two of you, entrapped in your own little bubble with no outside disturbances.

Of course, that thought is quick to crumble when your performance ends and the entire audience begins to clap, reminding Ayaka that other people get to see you, too.

Acknowledging it leaves a bitter taste on her tongue, denial, and jealousy mixing together like a perfect combination. She knows she has no right to act, let alone feel, like this - you aren't hers (as much as she wants it) and she isn't yours.

Really, Ayaka doubts you even knew her. Your relationship with her is nothing but a performer and a watcher. Nothing more.

(She hates it.)

But she can't just admit defeat like this, can she? Ayaka is a Kamisato, a noble family in Inazuma. Surely, with enough of a push, you'll come to her if she used her influence, no?

And she'll welcome you with open arms, too. Then, your performances will only be limited to her eyes and hers only - no one else within the audience as you dance and sing around for her.

Just like how it should be.

She'll even be the one to wake you up every morning, the one to dress you up and usher you to the dining room. No servant within the Kamisato estate deserves to see you bare and pretty - no, that sight should just be reserved for only her.

And maybe, somewhere down the line, she'll court you to earn your hand in marriage - just like what the fairytales do.

As the divine priestess of the Watatsumi island and tactician, KOKOMI holds a myriad of responsibilities, resulting in her work piling up with each day. From the complaints of citizens to negotiations with the shogun's army - Kokomi handles it all, with grace.

And with so many responsibilities to hold, Kokomi is bound to be burdened with stress. But, she doesn't mind.

Not when her cute stress reliever is you, after all.

There are countless actions she can command you to do and you'd do so in a heartbeat, but Kokomi finds that making you read aloud to her is the best.

Books read by your precious voice are a blessing to her ears. The genre of the book itself does not matter, whether it be a cheesy romance novel or a dictionary, anything you read is bound to be amazing - it's you.

So, with her head laid in your lap, and you preparing to begin reading a novel - Kokomi's accumulated stress from the week can already be felt vanishing.

"What novel is that, love?" Kokomi's soft voice questions, fingers lightly tracing the spine of the book.

You don't respond, choosing to read aloud instead.

The plane of euthymia unsettles you - EI knows that. But that doesn't stop her from forcefully keeping you within while the puppet handles the outside affairs, leading to Ei devoid of any disturbances and worries. Just her and you. As it always should.

The place is bleak and suffocating - the red hurts your eyes and the atmosphere is downright depressing, you wonder how Ei can live like this. To lock herself up and spend centuries meditating inside this plane - unlike you, who can't stand being here any longer.

You don't want to be here, you made it known from the very start. And yet, like a persistent bug, Ei ignores it in favor of meditating while you're within her eyesight - safe from any threats and dangers, or so she claims.

Yet, you don't have a choice - much less stand a chance against Ei when it comes to confrontation. What can you, a measly human, do in face of an archon?

As distasteful it is to admit, nothing.

It's best you keep your mouth shut and indulge Ei on her whims, lest you anger the god of eternity.

Grand narukami shrine is, well, grand. The exterior of the place is nothing short of breathtaking - the way the buildings were structured so intricately and the shrine maidens out and about only add a comforting air to the place. Not to mention the sacred sakura tree that's shaped into a fox - no doubt well taken care of by YAE.

For all this beauty and pleasing view from the top, it does not quench your longing to venture past this mountain - to experience more of Inazuma than what this place has to offer. Of course, the head priestess is opposed to that, for she condescendingly tells you that such musings bring nothing but demise to your life. Don't you know? The outside world is nothing short of traumatising, you're better off staying here - where your dear protector can keep you safe.

You protest and protest against her for what it's worth yet you're shot down each and every single time - Yae is always ready with a convenient excuse to tell you off. It's frustrating, to be treated like you know nothing better and that you're a dumb, stupid woman when you're clearly much more than that.

But every time you get the strength to potentially fight back against her, Yae's mischievous attitude crumbles apart - in place a stern facial expression that dares you to oppose against her - her, who is your lifeline. Her, who so graciously saved you from a life of poverty by letting you work for the grand narukami shrine. Her, who loves you as no one else will.

Yae supposes that she spoiled you too much. Maybe it's time for punishment? To remind you of your place.

Despite it all, you're grateful for the way LUMINE lets you travel around Teyvat - as long as you're with her, of course. It could be worse, you know. You've seen the way other people aren't allowed past the borders of their nation, sometimes even the comforts of their homes - you pity people like that. You truly do.

Paimon stays silent about the nature of your relationship, which is probably for the best (much to your chagrin). For a terrible liar, so far Paimon has been nothing but amazing in keeping her mouth silent - unlike her usual blabber mouth-self.

The first time Lumine took you to Mondstadt, she had introduced you there as her lover. Sweet and loving, is what your relationship appeared to the public eye with Paimon there to back it up. Still, the scope of green fields lessened your devastation to the situation - bringing comfort, even if just a little bit.

Liyue was eye-catching, the harbor built upon intricate buildings and rich history. Lumine toured you around where the population was at its peak - resulting in many curious eyes wondering just who you were to the savior of Liyue. A lover, perhaps?

You weren't able to enter Inazuma, not after the sakoku decree was lifted. Lumine told you the atmosphere was much more grim and cold when she first arrived, as opposed to the lively people and foreigners now plaguing the streets. She brought you along for the Irodori festival, where she made sure to conceal you from prying eyes - afraid that others would take a liking to you.

Yes, despite it all - no matter how suffocating her love is - you're truly grateful for the way Lumine lets you roam free. Or as free as you can be under her tight grip.

SANDRONE is known for her unpredictable outbursts - something that's more prone whenever you're involved. For this reason, the Fatui recruits make sure to distance themselves far away from you in order to not invoke the wrath of the marionette.

Unfortunately, not every underling can get the unspoken rule immediately - leading to dire mistakes so early on in their lives. How unfortunate - not that you can be of any help to them.

Especially when you're given a front-row seat by yours truly, where you're given a perfect view of just how she can turn this supposedly hideous man into an even more unsightly doll.

In the beginning, you vehemently protested - thrashed, shook, and pleaded for her to have an ounce of mercy. Though, now, you know better and choose to keep silent - blankly staring ahead with no visible emotion on your face.

When the scissors come into contact with the man's collarbone, ripping a scream out of his throat, you know that the show has begun.

It's only a matter of time until the poor Fatui recruit is transformed into a doll. Or a corpse, if Sandrone was feeling generous.

ou don't like children. That much you relayed to ARLECCHINO on your first meeting. At that time, she simply nodded her head and continued on with finishing her meal. Back then, when the two of you had only met - neither of you was aware of what would spiral down with this relationship.

Looking back at it now, you wished you never met the knave. Since it lead to where you are now, taking care of the orphans like you're someone being paid to do so - when in reality it's just Arlecchino wanting some sick version of play house.

But, you sigh and continue on with taking care of the countless children that the house of hearth houses. Endure, endure, endure - you tell yourself this every day, you'll break free from her soon enough. You can't stay here forever, it's illogical.

Or at least, you hope so.

[rafeandonlyrafe]

your duke

words: 4.7k

warnings: 18+ only!, smut, p in v sex, unprotected sex, mentions of having children, duke!rafe, 1800S au, royalty au, probably a lot of incorrect era things but idk! bear with me yall, maid!reader, implication of noncon but it is not actually described, r*pe aftermath, poisioning/murder, assassination plot, kinda angsty but happy ending, slowburn ish? i fell in love the way you fell asleep, slowly and then all at once

you are humming to yourself as you wipe down the surfaces off the room, collecting the nonexistent dust on your rag before turning your attention towards the bath, filling it with hot water, anticipating the dukes return.

you move onto the bed next, filled with extravagant silks and embroidered blankets. you make it perfectly, erasing any evidence that it was slept in only for the duke to create a mess when he comes back to his chambers.

you know you should feel lucky, getting to work in the palace with one of the kings closest friend and advisor, but it's tedious maid work, barely worth the couple gold coins you get at the end of every day.

you don't realize that the duke has entered until the door slams shut behind him, making you jump up, eyes wide as you turn and give him a quick bow, keeping your head down.

“good evening, duke cameron.”

“evening.” he addresses you back after a moment, allowing you to rise. you have to hold in a gasp, you always forget how beautiful the duke is.

“i filled the bath for you, sir.” you gesture your arm towards the bathroom. “i will take your garments for cleaning once you ready.”

“thank you, y/n.” the duke says, making your eyebrows rise. you have only been working for a couple weeks, and only recently got reassigned to the dukes room. you introduced yourself only once, and certainly expected him to instantly forget your name.

you watch as he goes behind the thick curtain into the bath, entering only when you hear him sink into the warm water with a satisfied groan.

you keep your eyes on the floor as you step around the corner just long enough to grab the clothing off the floor before fleeing with a bow to clean them.

you head to the lower levels of the palace, smiling at the other help that you see as you head towards the laundry room, quickly cleaning his clothes before hanging them on a line meant specifically for the duke.

“on your way back up to duke camerons?” the voice makes your back snap straight, turning to look at mrs. peregrine, her name living up to her hawkish features, a stern old woman but one to be admired for running the entirety of the background of the palace, coordinating maids and assistants, even running the kitchen with an iron fist.

“yes ma’am.” you nod.

“the king has requested that he receives a personal assistant.” she says, looking you up and down with a disapproving look in her brown eyes, so dark they almost appear black.

you wait patiently before she sighs. “my goodness girl, im offering you a promotion.”

“oh!” you raise your eyebrows, not expecting to move through the ranks so quickly. “yes, ma’am… what does being a personal assistant include?”

“you will bring up his meals, take requests and fill whatever he needs and… keep him satisfied.” you immediately understand the implication there, letting out a quick nod. she almost looks sad for a brief second before her features harden again. “get his dinner tray from the kitchen and bring it up immediately.”

you rush to the kitchen, grabbing the tray indicated for the duke. you hurry up the stairs, but are careful not to spill the plates loaded on the silver platter.

“dinner, sir.” you call with a knock, glad when instead of telling you to come inside that duke cameron opens the door for you. you set the tray down at his dining table. you wonder what the palace chambers of the king are like when a dukes looks like this.

“are you my assistant then y/n?” rafe asks, sitting down as you stand at the other side of the table, hands clasped together, waiting, but you're not sure what.

“yes sir.” you nod quickly. “anything you wish i am… here to serve.”

“are you hungry?” he asks, making you scrunch your brows together.

“what?” you know you shouldn't question what the duke says, but you surely must have heard him wrong.

“are you hungry? the kitchen always gives me more than i could ever eat.”

“oh- i- i am fine, sir. thank you.” you say, but your traitorous eyes betray you as you look at the food, bread smothered with butter, steak dripping with juice.

“no more with the sir, please.” he waves his hand. “makes me feel like my father. just call me rafe.”

you let a light laugh slip. duke cameron-rafe is remarkably young to have risen to the ranks so quickly. some even believe he is who the king will appoint if he doesn't produce an heir.

“and come sit down.” rafe kicks out the chair next to you. you step closer, easing yourself down into the wooden chair.

rafe takes one of the plates and loads a few things on it before setting it in front of you with one simple word. “eat.”

you're not going to argue with duke, and the meal is no doubt the most extravagant that you're ever going to get to taste, so you begin to eat, eyes widening when you taste the warm bread, so unlike the old stale loaf you get for cheap from the market.

rafe looks satisfied when your finished, pushing his cup of wine towards you to finish off.

“thank you, s-rafe.” you both smile.

“it's my pleasure.” rafe says, standing up and moving to flop down on his bed, placing his hand on his stomach. “so much good food.”

you bite your tongue, resisting the urge to say that there are people right outside the palace walls starving.

you quickly collect all of the silverware before placing the serving tray outside of the door to take back down to the kitchen later. maybe you'd even be able to sneak some more food now that you have access.

“what else can i do for you, sir?” you ask, looking out the window as the sky darkens. you wonder when you'll be dismissed now that you're an assistant to a duke, not just a lowly maid.

“come here.” he calls, eyes now closed as he lays on the bed.

you move quickly, putting your shame to the side. you know what is being requested of you now as you step to the edge of the bed, looking down rafes body until you are staring at his crotch. your hands reach cautiously until you cant wait any longer, grabbing the hem of his pants.

the dukes eyes pop open, pushing your fingers away. “what are you doing?”

“i-i am so sorry, sir!” you take a step back before sinking to your knees, bending your head down. “i thought you wanted to receive your… your nightly pleasures.”

you keep your eyes trained on the plush rug, but you can hear that rafe has moved to stand directly in front of you.

“you are not a whore.” his words are harsh for a moment, but then he kneels down next to you, his fingers touching under your chin and forcing you to look up at him. “i do not expect you to do anything for me that you do not want to.”

“sir, it's included in being your assistant.” you explain.

“i will not ask you to do anything lewd, understood?” he asks, holding your eye until you nod.

“you… you are a good man.” you say, letting him take your hand to help you stand, your dress falling back around your ankles.

“if only.” he looks into the distance for a moment before shaking his head. “you're dismissed.”

“yes sir.” you lower your head, rushing out of the room.

-- two weeks later --

“would you ask the kitchen for chicken today?” the duke asks as you adjust his outfit, quickly learning his tastes as you fold his collar down.

“roasted?” you question, smiling when rafe shakes his head.

“and make sure you tell them i want lunch too.” you know exactly what the duke means. he will no doubt be eating with the king, but he wants you to get food from the kitchen for yourself. you would refuse, but it gives you something to do as you wait around in his chambers, waiting to be called on.

“yes, sir.” you nod before leading him to the door, opening up the door with a bow as he goes to yet another meeting. he seems to always be involved. you don't know his personal politics, but from the way he treats you, you're sure he must be a good man.

you spend some time cleaning as you wait for rafe to return, as well as getting lunch and wandering the hallways, seeing how far you can go without seeing anyone.

you are relieved when time rolls around for you to draw a bath for the duke, excited to see him.

the door opens as you turn with a smile. “good evening, rafe. how was your day?”

“busy.” he admits with a sigh. you can tell he looks tired. “is the bath ready?”

“yes, sir.” you say, not able to always resist the formalities.

rafe nods, walking past you but not before laying a hand on your shoulder, giving it a light squeeze as a thank you, like he is too tired to even say the words.

you wait to hear the water before stepping in to get his clothes.

“y/n.” rafe says.

“yes sir?” you ask, keeping your eyes cast downward.

“would you… would you massage my shoulders and head? please.”

“of course.” you drag a stool towards the edge of the bath, glad to see the water is still steaming, no doubt relaxing rafe. you keep your eyes firmly away from lower down his body as you rub over his scalp and shoulders, working out the kinks in his neck.

you're almost sure that rafe has fallen asleep as you continue to massage, unable to resist as you lean in and take a small inhale, smelling his unique scent that is near intoxicating. you wish his room smelled more of him and less like you, it seems like he never gets to relax unless it's to sleep.

“why are you always so busy, sir?” you ask seriously. “the other dukes spend half the nights on the town and the other half at their summer houses. you work yourself to death.”

“for good reason.” he simply says. you sigh, you're not going to get anymore than that.

-- three months later --

“would you go to albion with me?” the duke asks, your eyes widening as you almost choke on the perfectly buttered biscuit you have in your mouth.

“of course!” you nod. “ive never left the city before.” you long to see the countryside, and even if you are going as an assistant, you would never turn down the opportunity.

“never?” he raises an eyebrow. “not even as a child?”

“no.” you shake your head. “i had to work ever since i was a young girl.”

“it's a shame.” the duke says. “you aren't like the others…”

“what do you mean?” you question, taking a timid bite of the roast chicken.

“like the people i see sleeping on the streets. you have manners, you work hard… you're beautiful.”

you can feel your cheeks blush bright red. “why thank you.”

“this is when you pay me a compliment back.” he smirks, using the charm he is so well known for.

“you are… very handsome.” you say before taking a quick sip of wine.

“come on, anything specific?”

you know exactly what you are going to say. “your eyes.” you quickly attest. “they're… they're enchanting. i imagine they are what the sea looks like.”

the duke smiles, blue eyes sparkling like the sun reflecting off the waves, and you swear you could melt right there in your seat.

-- one week later --

“is this your first time in a carriage?” the duke asks as the coachman reaches his hand out to help you into the small enclosed area.

“yes.” you nod, taking in the plush seats before sitting down, rafe sitting across from you.

“im glad i get to show you this then.” rafe says with a light smile, opening up the windows to allow you to look out as the horse begins to clop through the city streets.

you watch with excitement as the cobblestone roads turn to dirt and stone paths, brick buildings being replaced by rolling hills, crops, and distant farmhouses.

you chat with the duke throughout your travels, his smile growing whenever you point out something out of the window, loving your excitement when you come across a heard of cows, or cross over a wooden bridge.

“i want to show you everything.” rafe mumbles unders his breath, realizing in that moment how deep he is in.

its only a few more hours before you arrive at albion. your duties are much the same when at the kings palace, retreating quickly to make the dukes room just as he pleases, even adjusting the pillows to how you always find them in the morning.

you explore the help areas of the albion manor, glancing into the various rooms as you learn the layout, since the duke does intend to stay for two nights.

“exploring, are we?” rafes voice makes you jump as you turn suddenly.

“please excuse me.” you bow down when you realize duke cameron is with the duke of albion.

“is this your wife, duke cameron?” he asks, looking over you and your curtsey.

“why, no.” you can tell from rafes voice that he is delighted by the question. “though you would never guess it, she is my maid.”

“such a gorgeous maid.” you can hear them step closer, but you keep your head turned down until the duke of albion clears his throat and you stand.

you can see that rafes face has changed from a smile to cautious displeasure as the duke looks you up and down, a jeer taking over his face.

“she is a wonderful maid. a great conversationalist, too. she rode the entire way in my carriage and i was not once bored.”

“can she dance?” the duke of albion asks.

“ask the lady yourself.” rafe turns to look at you, nodding encouragingly.

“i have not danced since i was a child.” you say, keeping your voice quiet and soft. you know that there are dukes out there sick on power, and you're not sure the duke of albion is one of the good ones like your duke cameron.

“well, we must change that, shouldn't we duke cameron?” he turns to look at rafe, who nods. “invite her to the ball tomorrow night.” it's all he has to say before walking away. you let out a breath of relief once he turns down a hallway.

“you don't have to go to the ball if you don't want to.” rafe says as you begin to walk towards his room. you stay a step behind him like a proper maid. “i will make up an excuse for you if you wish, but…” rafe pushes the door open, allowing you to enter the chambers first. “if you want to don a pretty dress and arrive on my arm, i will not deny you the chance.”

“i would love to. as long as i only have to dance with you.” you can't imagine being passed off to random men.

your duke smiles at you before nodding, setting down at the dining table, where food must have been recently delivered as he portions some out for you.

“where are you to sleep?” he asks as you begin to eat.

“i visited the helps chambers already, i will sleep in a cot there.”

rafe frowns. “a cot? that is unacceptable.”

“it's just as nice as the one i have at home.” you admit with a casual shrug.

“you do not own a bed in your house?” rafe questions. he's never thought too much about your living situation before.

“i rent a room.” you say simply. “i don't even have a house or a whole apartment to myself.”

rafe is quiet until you're both done eating, seemingly deep in thought.

“you are sleeping in the bed tonight and i shall sleep on the settee. and we shall find new living arrangements for you when we return to the palace.”

“sir-”

“there will be no arguments.” he says, with a tone of authority you've never heard before. your mouth zips shut.

--

“im afraid im going to be sick.” you press your hand to the front of your dress, a soft pink fabric that must be more than your entire yearly salary for just have the material of the gown.

the duke of albion sent a few different options. they're clearly old dresses from maybe his wife or other manor women. you even made an attempt to do your hair rather than just pull it back into a bun or braid like you often do.

“you look beautiful.” rafe squeezes your hand. “and you have nothing to be nervous about. i will not leave your side.”

rafe waits for you to nod before stepping through the doors. he would turn back and take you back to his chambers if you were truly too nervous, social consequences be damned. rafe couldn't care less about his place in society, not when he knows he's been written into the kings will to take over the crown if he doesn't produce an heir with his wife before his death.

you're glad people are paying more attention to rafe than the women on his arm as he leads you around the room, greeting people and introducing you simply as lady y/n, not mentioning that you are his maid and assistant.

you watch a few dances with fascination, the twirling skirts of the women far more appealing then the men.

“want to try the dance floor?” he asks, squeezing your hand gently.

“yes.” you say honestly. you weren't sure, but to look into rafes eyes while the band plays is too tempting.

rafe leads you towards the center of the room, thankful the dance has already been done once, as you mostly remember the moves as he leads you through it, a wide smile on your face.

-- one week later --

“is everything moved?” rafe asks as he enters the room, eyes widening when he realizes it's been completely stripped, even the curtain separating the living area and bathroom has been taken down.

“yes.” you nod. “mrs. peregrine said there is no one else moving into this room, so.” you shrug. you feel a little sad about leaving the chambers that you've grown so close to rafe in, but he himself requested a bigger chamber. he must not ask for much, because the king quickly accepted his request.

two beds. you walk up one more flight of stairs to the newer bedrooms, family chambers for those who live inside the palace with their children, or for those who will have their maid live with them like rafe.

“no more cots for you.” rafe says as you enter the room. you can't help yourself, tearing up when you see your bed. yours. 

“good tears?” rafe confirms before pulling you in for a hug. the touching may be frowned on by society, but you find comfort and familiarity in his hold, having grown so close over the past months.

--

you are humming softly with a smile on your face as you bring down rafes laundry, the last task for the night before also retreating to your bedroom.

“y/n.” mrs peregrine says, her hawk eyes landing on you and the bundle of clothing in your arms.

“yes ma’am?”

“the king has requested a new maid for the night. he wants someone young. go.”

it takes a second for her words to process before you realize what she's asking for.

“i-”

“you can go back to duke cameron in the morning, he wants someone new for the night. go. now.”

you drop the laundry, considering running. either out of the palace or back to rafe, but mrs. peregrine follows behind you like she can read your thoughts until you're standing in front of the door to the kings chambers. you can hear lewd noises from behind the carved wood, the golden handle gleaming.

mrs. peregrine grabs and turns it before pushing you in.

“ah, a new one!” the king grunts, a mess of bare skin taking up the massive bed. “get over here!”

--

“where were you?” rafe asks, grasping your shoulders the second you enter the chambers, the morning sun not even rising yet, having fled the second the kings head hit the pillow.

you open your mouth to speak, but all that comes out is a loud sob as you lean forward, burying your face into his chest. 

“shh, shh.” rafe wraps his arms around you, letting you cry into his chest as his hand strokes gently up and down your back. “i got you. you're okay.”

he leads you over towards the beds, bypassing your own and taking you to sit on his, arms still holding you comfortingly.

“i-i had to go to the kings chambers.” you swallow thickly, glad you don't have to explain any more as rafes face turns to one of anger.

“the king disrespected you. he disrespected me. and he disrespected his wife. something will be done about it.”

you're not sure what your duke has planned, but you trust him.

--

rafe watches with anticipation. he planned to wait another couple months, to build up the tolerance of the kings food taster to the poison he's been slipping in, but after what you were subjected to, he will wait no longer.

every meal the taster ate outside of testing the kings food has had slowly increasing amounts of poison in it. he hadn't quite reached lethal yet, but rafe hopes he will at least last long enough for the king to eat before showing any signs of sickness.

rafe watches with anticipation, barely touching his own food as the taster tries everything. a bite of mashed potatoes, of chicken, and so on before nodding and passing the plate to the king.

he's too cocky for his own good, not even waiting for a minute to see if the taster has a bad reaction before eating, sure that he was too untouchable.

rafe hides his smile when the kings face turns pale, sputtering before falling face forward into the mashed potatoes, knocked out dead.

--

the palace is in an uproar. you were waiting for rafe to return to the chambers from his dinner with the king and other dukes when someone bursts in.

“the king is dead. duke cameron is now the king. come now.”

you hesitate before they rush out of the room. your feet move before your mind does, rushing after what you must assume is an advisor.

you hear loud crying, desperately sad, heartbreaking screams as you're lead to the kings chambers. your eyes widen when you see the former queen being dragged out, mourning with loud sobs the loss of her husband and title.

“king cameron is waiting for you inside.”

you walk in, surprised when the door swing shuts behind you. you look around the grand space, not having truly taken it in the time the king had you brought in.

“rafe-” you run to him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. he's stood near where the bed used to be. it must have been his first order, to have the very bed you were disrespected in taken out of the chambers. you hope it gets burned.

“i did it for you. for us.” rafe holds you close as it sinks in. rafe killed the king.

“i want you to be my queen.” rafe pulls away to look you in the eye. “i want you to be my wife.”

“i-” 

“the former queen is pregnant. hopefully with a boy. we will rule until he is 13 then vacate the throne. we can go to the countryside, i can give you the life you deserve-”

you cut rafe off by pressing your lips against his. he hesitates for a split second before kissing back, holding you even tighter to him.

“id be honored to be your wife.” you whisper against his lips. “i love you.”

“i love you so much.” rafes tongue slips into your mouth, distracting you from thinking too hard as he kisses you, your bodies turning warm as he leads you towards the couch, laying you down on your back as he hovers over you, not allowing your lips to seperate.

“we will…” rafe gasps out, pausing his words to kiss you again. “we will rule. we will amass wealth. we will retire with our money to the countryside.” rafe squeezes your waist. “we will have as many children as you want. none, if you want. anything for you, my soon to be queen.”

“i never thought id be able to have kids.” you sniffle. “you've given me so much.”

you reach up to take rafes face in your hands, rubbing your thumbs over his cheeks before pulling him down for a kiss.

“i love you.” you kiss him over and over. “i want you.”

“now?” rafe looks down at you. “are you sure?”

“yes, please.” you kiss him again. “replace my bad memories with a good one.”

rafe moves slowly, carefully undoing your dress until you're in just your underclothes. he continues to kiss you before turning the attention to himself, taking off his layers until he's in just underpants.

you run your hands up and down over his chest, lifting your hips as he tugs your final layer off.

rafe pulls away from the kiss to look down at your body. a smile spreads over his face before slinking down the couch he grasps your chest in his hands, cupping your breasts.

“i should have had them bring in a new bed first.” he chuckles, pressing his hips down into your thigh, allowing you to feel his length through his underpants.

“i need you now. please.” you whimper out. rafe smiles, unable to keep the grin off his face since his plan succeeded and he finally admitted his feelings to you.

“you never have to beg me for anything, my queen.” rafe says, pulling his final layer off. “you're never going to go without ever again.”

you feel tears well in your eyes as rafe lines himself up with your entrance, sinking deep into you as you both moan out. 

“i love you.” you whisper again, needing to tell him as many times as you possibly can.

rafe presses his lips over each over your eyelids, kissing away your tears.

-- 14 years later -- 

“it's everything i imagined and more.” you smile to your husband, having just returned from the tour of the vast gardens.

“nothing but the best for you, my love.” rafe spent years looking for the perfect retirement property as the new king grew up until he was of age to take over the title.

you push the hair back out of rafes face, admiring his features. there's a few increased lines on his face from the age and the stress of the crown, but the twinkle in his eye is all the same.

“i was thinking once we settle down here i will take you on a vacation to see the ocean. then we can get started on making those babies i promised you.”

“why not start now?” you smile, turning towards your bedroom as rafe quickly follows behind, the halls filling with warm laughter, much to the staffs relief, glad to have a happy couple as the new duke and duchess.

rafe closes and locks the bedroom door behind you, the curtains and windows open, letting in the clean country air, so different from the city that you've finally escaped.

“how many babies do you want?” rafe asks, pushing up the bottom of your linen dress up to reveal that you aren't wearing anything underneath, much to rafes appreciation.

“hmm.” you hum out as rafe tugs his pants down. “two boys, two girls?”

“i like the way you think.” rafe smiles, pressing a kiss your lips. “my queen. you'll always-” another kiss. “be my queen.”

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[laurasimonsdaughter]

A farrier and her son were closing down the forge late at night, when the sound of hooves approached from up the road. They looked out across the yard and watched, with growing discomfort, how a hooded figure on a blood bay horse came riding towards them. Steed and rider halted at the gate, and the farrier hesitantly lifted her hand as the stranger spoke, in a voice as searing as fire:

“I am expected in the next town and my horse needs shodding.”

Neither master nor apprentice dared to lift up their eyes.

“Yes, sir,” the farrier answered and the figure dismounted.

The bay was a formidable animal, but it followed its master’s orders. The farrier worked the metal while her son worked the forge and she shaped the horseshoes exactly to the horse’s feet. But when it came to the shoeing, the nails that her son put in her hand were barely half the length of what was needed. She held them, and hesitated, and nailed the irons in place.

“What is your fee?” the stranger asked, once more taking the reigns of his steed.

“No fee, my lord,” the farrier replied. “An honour to serve you.”

The hooded rider went away and mother and son stayed behind, too frightened to speak. But barely had they gathered their courage and turned their backs to the road, or a second rider approached them.

He too was hooded, and his horse was black as night.

“One of my fellows went before me and I follow where he goes,” the rider spoke with a voice as dry as the cracked earth. “But my horse needs shodding.”

Once again the farrier worked the metal while her son worked the forge, one again she affixed the horseshoes with nails too short by half. She would take no fee for their labour, and the stranger rode off into the night.

No sooner had the sound of pounding hooves faded from their hearing, or a third set of hooves could be heard coming nearer.

This rider rode a white horse and his words dripped with the thickness of his voice.

“My horse needs shodding, for two of my fellows have gone before me and where they go I am close at hand.”

Barely a word was spoken. They shod the stranger's horse exactly like the others, and watched him gallop away. Then the farrier took her son’s hand, stood in the yard, and waited.

Slowly, at a steady pace, a fourth figure came down the road and halted at their gate. His hood and cloak were black, he carried a scythe at his side, and sat astride a pale horse.

“Three of my fellows have gone down this road, and whatever their destination they choose must be my own. If I am to go where they are going, my horse will need shoeing.”

“Of course, sir,” the farrier replied, but her son spoke up:

“But must you?”

The figure bowed his cowled head and cosigned his horse to the farrier’s care.

Again she carefully trimmed the hooves, again she expertly shaped the horseshoes, but when her son handed her the nails she shook her head. He faltered and she shook her head again. He gave her the proper nails and they finished their work.

“Thank you,” the stranger nodded. “What is your fee?”

“Whatever you deem our services are worth, my lord.”

The stranger held his horse by the reigns and for a long time he looked thoughtfully down the road where the three had gone before him. Then he looked at the mother and son, standing stiffly side by side.

He held out a thin hand and gave them each a single coin, one just like the other, before mounting his horse, and turning back in the direction from which he had come, riding at the same unhurried pace.

The farrier and her son watched him until he was out of sight and out of hearing. They stood there, until dawn broke, and the dark was chased away. Only then did they did they dare to lock the gate and go to the house, where the rest of family still slept soundly.

The two coins were placed in salt and buried underneath the doorstep. And for as long as that house stood, no one who was born under its roof was carried out of it before their time.

[ruinix]

Quinn getting a huge baby fever after he saw you hold your little cousin (or whomever baby)

Hello, lovely…baby fever… yes, baby fever. Ummm, I fear I have…gone overboard again, so it took me a bit. I had to bring out the big guns (my AO3 thots with my fictional men). He almost turned…dark 🤨🙂‍↔️

Trouble

TW/CW: 18+ MDNI, Smut, Masturbation, a dash of Breeding Kink, Unprotected Sex (use protection, lovelies), Brief Choking, Use of ‘hubby’ (some doesn’t like it so...🙂‍↕️), Quinn being pathetic as he gets hit with an extreme baby fever

Count: 2914 words | Masterlist | Taglist

You are trouble. So much trouble. Quinn had to lock himself in a bathroom stall as he stares at his phone, his fingers tapping the video over and over and over again. It feels like a loop. A loop of you and that little baby.

Who is that? Who? But the identity of the baby is the second thing in this mind. You’re the first thing.

Quinn can’t stop watching. Can’t stop hearing your little coos for the baby you got in your arms. Can’t stop seeing the way you brush your cheek against the top of the baby’s head. Can’t stop the squeeze in his chest as you smile at the camera, the light shining behind you so perfectly that you appear to have a halo. Can’t stop feeling your happiness in this ten-second-long video. It makes him happy. Too happy that he had to cover up the little one’s face because he’s…his pants tighten up. Fuck.

Before he could type his reply, you send over a text that had him, leaning back against the door which creaked from his weight. His legs and hands shake. His soul shudders. It feels as though he’s not there. This must be a fucking dream.

Your text says, “When we have a baby, will they look as cute as this little duuuuuude?”

‘When. We. Have. A. Baby.’

When. Not if. When. Like you are stating the inevitable future. Like you are looking forward to it. Like you want him to give you children—or child, fuck, he’ll give you any number of children.

It’s just a simple thought, but it feels like a magnitude ten earthquake causing destruction. You destroyed him in the best possible way. Rattled him so much that he can barely function. He got practice for fuck’s sake. He can’t even tease your extended ‘dude’. He can’t. He can’t think straight.

All Quinn’s thoughts are questions.

‘You want a baby with me? When do you want to have a baby? Do you want to start making one now? Next week? Next month? Next season? Next year?’

‘Are you sure you want a baby?’

‘How many babies do you want? One? Five?’

‘Do you want them a year a part? Two? Three?’

Shaking his head to clear it, his tongue feels dry, his heart beating and ramming against his chest. He could barely ask who’s the little dude, barely understand that dude is your friend’s baby, could barely read every paragraph you sent after about little dude. Of course, he still reads it, despite not being able to process them, because he needs to hear you—at least—as he tumbles down the rabbit hole.

More like plummets.

His mind is clogged with images of you. Your tummy barely showing to fully rounded and full of his baby. You eating for two. You being all clingy or irritable with him—he’ll hug or console you either way. You wearing maternity clothes. Most especially, you holding his baby.

Quinn’s done for. He fucking is.

When you send your “I love you”, Quinn’s hand is already wrapped around his cock, your name escaping his lips in a plea, a revelation descending and dawning upon him.

He needs to have a child with you.

That’s why—for weeks, six weeks to be exact—Quinn cannot stop imagining and wishing the babies he sees in the streets, in social media, in the arena during games to be yours and his.

He has…baby fever. He realized that a week in. It’s weird. Quinn doesn’t think about kids or babies. His plan was to be with you. Just you and him without a doubt. Then after some time, he’ll propose. Then you will marry. Then you two will talk about kids, because even if having kids was not yet his focus, he wants a family with you.

You’re his endgame. He’s sure of it, so he’s moving forward with you. Until you sent the video of little dude—Jeremy, if Quinn remembers correctly—with you. Until he literally can’t stop picturing you and babies. Until it’s the only thing in his fucking mind other than hockey and you. Babies. Cute little babies.

He’s so fucked, because it’s not just the wholesome need for little babies. No. It feels primal.

He gets fucking hard, totally bricked up, wanting nothing but to fuck you until you’re bred. So hard that he had to jerk off multiple times during the day. Bathroom stalls. A janitor closet. Even when he’s home, he has to jerk off, given that you’re not there. He tries not to, but his cock would ache as his thoughts worsen, so he fucking fails. Every. Time.

His fogged-up brain will continuously echo: “Kids, now. Kids with you. Now. Now.”

Quinn thinks he’s losing his mind. He doesn’t know what to do, because the thoughts of little ones—with your eyes, your hair, your smile, your sweetness, your quirks, your gentleness, your everything—makes him yearn for it to be true. His heart aches for every day that goes without them. He needs a family with you. He needs little ones to spoil alongside you.

So for weeks, Quinn wants to breech the subject with you. He wishes to present his new foolproof life plan—that will also be your plan, if you accept. His new plan consist of: lots of fucking to make a baby, him providing for you and your children and possibly grandchildren, him being present for every step of the way, him being a good father. But simply, babies. The plan is to have babies, but the words always stop at his throat.

Because…even if he wants babies, that doesn’t equate to what you want right now. Right? He can’t just do what he wants, can he? Like breed you and—

“Little dude,” you say in a singsong voice, “would look so cute with this, right?”

Quinn looks up and sees you hold up a shark onesie. He can only stare, stare, and stare, because this has to be illegal. This, as in you holding up that onesie just a meter away from him. As in you looking proud of every baby clothing you bought. As in you being excited about buying things not for his baby. He hates it. The sudden disdain—to an innocent kid just because he’s not his—is making him all too riled up now. Why are you spoiling someone else’s baby? Fuck.

“Sure,” Quinn chokes out which he tries to mask with a cough.

He nods helplessly when you grin, a sparkle in your eyes, then you dash across the room to get your wrapping papers, tapes, and somehow, more paper bags. Just how many did you buy for that baby? It’s a fucking haul that makes Quinn irritable and also downright pathetic.

He should just say it. He wants a kid with you. He wants to be a father to your children. Easy words to say, but he still can’t say it. He’s such an idiot.

“I want to help,” he offers as you settle on the floor, scooting your legs under the coffee table, looking so cozy.

“Thank you, Quinn, but I got a wrapping system over here,” you giggle. Your arms are comically filled with stuff before you laid them out on the table. “You always crumple the wrapper, silly.”

Quinn does. He can wrap presents, but it’s a battle. Him against the paper. Usually, he wins but the gifts…they’re wrapped so messily. So different with your gift wrapping. While he’s nonchalant about it, you’re particular. He sees your focus for every fold. He has seen you get upset when you fold one piece wrong or if the ribbon is wonky. He loves that about you.

Still, you give him socks and onesies. Still, you let him messily wrap them. You even smile, looking so proud of him like he’s the best, looking utterly kind and patient. You place what he wrapped on your growing pile.

You’ll be a good mother. Quinn knows that. He’ll do his best to be a good father. He can do that. He can—

He jumps when you suddenly hop over his lap.

“Where’d you go?” You ask, pressing a kiss against his jaw. Quinn can only cling to your hips, savor your touch on his nape, the feel of your fingers running through his hair. “Come back, hubby.”

Hubby? Are you insane? Do you know what that does to him? Who is he kidding? You fucking do. You always do. You’ll be the death of him.

“My Love,” he groans, a bit too whiny in his opinion, but he can’t help it. The effect you have on him.

“You like that?” you chuckle, breathing in his sharp exhales. “Hubby.”

Quinn can only growl in response. You’ve short-circuited him and you laugh at him. Cruel. His cruel Love. He hugs you tighter, grounding himself. This is real. You called him Hubby. Not Huggy. Hubby. Your hubby.

He buries his head into your neck, greedily taking in your scent. God. You smell so good, so addicting like a custom-made drug, just for him.

His cock throbs, wishing to be seated in your pussy, wishing to spill his cum in your womb until it takes.

“Do you want a baby?” He forces out, his voice coming out raspy and broken and desperate. He’s probably blushing, because he’s burning up. Even his fucking eyes sting. He’s going to cry and it’s fucking pathetic.

“Hmm,” you hum, hands rubbing over his chest, soothing him.

One hand runs up his jaw, coaxing him to meet your eyes. Your beautiful eyes track every detail on his face, taking everything like it’s your first time when you’ve already done it hundreds of times.

Then you softly kiss his cheeks, the mole on the right, his forehead, the edges of his eyebrows, his eyelids, his lips. A simple soft peck. One by one until he’s just putty underneath you. His heart pounds but not from fear, for his undeniable love for you. Just like that you settle him.

“Been thinking about that, handsome?” you ask.

“Yes,” he nearly stutters.

“Do you want to have a baby?” you ask, pressing another kiss on the tip of his nose.

Quinn shudders, eyebrows meeting, breaths picking up. “Yes,” he confesses like he’s about to confess guilty and be sentenced to death.

A grumbled ‘fuck’ escapes his lips when you scoot closer, sitting your clothed pussy right over his aching cock. You roll your hips once and Quinn almost comes. Shit. What are you doing to him?

You’re saying something, whispering the words on his lips, but Quinn couldn’t focus.

You’re so close. Oh, so close. Your breaths mix together, making him all so dizzy. He wants to kiss you again, but when he tries to close the smallest distance between you two, you move back. Why are you…

Then he realizes what you said.

“I’ve been wanting your baby for so long, Q. So long.”

You want his baby.

It feels like the last tether around his control snaps.

No longer is he chasing your lips and letting you pull away. No longer is he shaking like a goddamned leaf, choking on unsaid words, yearning and begging to the void. No longer because you’ve said it. You want his child.

He captures your lips, hand slipping through hair, firmly tugging. The way you moan against his lips makes his blood rush his cock. Your hands grasping at his shirt. Your hips grinding against his. Your desperation is a distinct reflection of his.

“Quinn,” you gasp, panting for air. Your pupils are blown. Cheeks flushed.

Quinn groans your name, lifting you to rest you on the couch, him still kneeling on the floor, your hips glued together. He grasps your collar, ruthlessly tugging down. Buttons pop out, fabric tearing. It’s his shirt anyway. He can just give you more.

He doesn’t let you complain, easily capturing your lips, as he continues his rush to remove every bit of your clothing. You try to help, but he won’t let it. He can’t or else he’ll lose it.

He needs this. You need this. Those thoughts keep bouncing in his head as he deepens the kiss. His hand finds your pussy, already dripping. Slipping a finger, your pussy sucks it in, quivering, clenching, leaking. God, you’re so wet. He doesn’t even need to prep you, because you’re already so turned on for him. Only for him. He hooks his finger against your special spot, making you scream.

You’re so ready, aren’t you? Ready to be fucked. Ready to be bred.

“It’s such a dangerous day, Quinny,” you whimper, nails digging into his arms.

You’ve already sent him over the edge but hearing you—those new set of words—makes him spiral deeper into his haze.

He somehow gets rid of his shirt but only pushes his pants and boxers down, before he sinks every inch of his hard and leaking cock into your needy pussy. So easily. So smoothly. So eager and greedy.

“Fuck,” he growls, nipping your lips, blunt fingers digging into your thighs to keep them wide open for him. “You feel so good.”

So good. So perfect around his cock. He watches his cock slide out then back in, shivering at the feel of you, shuddering at your exhales, at how pleasure contorts your beautiful face.

“Quinn,” you say his name like it’s a prayer. “Breed me.”

He nearly comes from that. You’re such a minx. He leans back, fucking harder into you, bottoming out and hitting the spot that has you singing your screams, that has your eyes rolling up as your pussy convulses with tiny orgasms. Christ. He might not last long.

He just wants to fill you up, plug you with his cock so nothing spills. He needs to do that. If he doesn’t, you can’t get pregnant. You can’t have the child you want. The child he needs to take care of, to spoil, to love.

He wraps a hand around your neck. Of all the necklaces he bought for you, it’s his favorite and nothing else, but the sight of the little heart pendant resting on your collar bone, just beneath his wrist, has him snapping his hips harder, rolling to heighten his and your pleasure. Fuck, so good.

“Harder, hubby,” you taunt as tears run down your cheeks. “Please, just a bit upward.”

He follows your plea, hitting the spot you wanted him to reach, getting the immediate reward of you arching your back, pussy clamping down around him as you come. Your cum dribble out with your arousal. The squelching noises and skin slapping are so alluring. Quinn needs more.

Quinn rides your orgasm, prolonging it until you are whimpering and gasping, “I’m coming. Quinn.”

He tightens his hand around your neck, feeling your pulse quicken, pussy tightening. You can only hold his arm, hips raising to meet every thrust that makes your tits bounce. Your eyes roll as you come once again as he controls your air. What a sight.

He finally lets go of your neck, running his hand down your chest, teasing your taut nipples, making you whine, your tummy, until he reaches below your navel. He pushes down, then you scream and come around him again.

Look at you surrendering to him.

“That’s three,” he groans out, slowing down his pace. He rises, resting on knee on the edge of the couch, so he can fuck into you deeper. He hooks your quivering leg over his forearm, watching you bite your lips. “Got more for me, my Love?”

“Please,” you breathe. “Fill me with your cum, Q. Please. I need it.”

That’s his fuel. Your words. Your breaths. Your moans, mewls, whimpers, whispers of calling him your hubby. You, whining for more, more, and more, as he ruts and rolls his hips into your sopping wet pussy. The slight drool on the corner of your lips which he couldn’t fight the urge to lick. Your taste, your feel, your touch, all so divine.

He can’t get enough of you.

Soon, he’ll have little you’s whom he’ll love, whom he’ll play his games for, whom he’ll work hard for, whom he’ll be proud of. He’s already doing these things for you, but that promise will ignite—has ignited—another flame in him.

He’ll have pieces of you and him in his arms.

He can’t wait.

He can’t.

He needs to make it happen.

He must.

He captures your lips, your tongue meeting his instantly. Fuck. He can feel your desperation. You need it too.

Quinn slows, drawing every thrust deeper, losing himself in you until he comes so hard that his sight blurs, so hard that he almost crushes you to the couch, so hard that he whimpers your name because you also come. Every spurt of his cum, a silent prayer, a plea for it to take.

But even if it doesn’t, Quinn has the whole day to plug you up with his cock, to fuck you again with your hips raise to lessen the cum that spill which is fucking inevitable. So, he’s there to give you more.

He has to make sure that you’re full of him. Full of his seed on this dangerous day. So dangerous. A perfect time to breed you, isn’t it?

God, he can’t wait until he’s fucking you with your belly is round with his baby.

[cmdrfupa]

Satoru who not only disregards the 4 pillows you’ve thrown at him to stop him from cuddling you, but starts to fake cry so you can come and check on him, which you do.

“See! It obviously isn’t too hot for you to come and check on me. You do care! You do still love me!”

“Toru, we’re married. And it’s hot as shit. And your child is tearing my insides apart. Please”

“Our child, babydoll. Which again, an honor to have you as my wife and mother of our child.”

“Love of my life. It’s too hot for cuddling right now. Let it cool down a little then we can get cozy.“ you land a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth as you sit up on the bed. “I’ll even watch more master chef jr. with you.”

His bright eyes filled with something that resembled glee.

“I’ll take that offer. Plus! You won’t be too hot once I show you what I did to the bathtub.”

You shut your eyes for a moment, taking a solid breath before looking back up. “Satoru Gojo. Did you fill our tub up with ice?”

Scoffing as if you’ve accused him of a heinous crime, he shakes his head. “Baby. That would be stupid. I did something better. I bought a lot of those reusable ice cubes, froze them, and that’s what I have in the tub along with ice chips!”

“I’m going to Shoko’s place.”