Sakusa Asks You Out, A Drabble

sakusa asks you out, a drabble

synopsis: sakusa wants to be your boyfriend (and it’s about time he asked). no warnings, it’s all fluff :)

it’s a warm, thick curry. foreign flavors swirl across your tongue before dropping into your belly. it’s heavy in your stomach; the weight of the food already lulling you to sleep. it’s heat radiates through your body, engulfing your nerves in a delicious comfort. you smile; he did a great job.

“do you like it? i tried to follow the recipe, but i changed few things.” he faces away from you, mumbling. his voice is nonchalant; his expression blank, but you know better than that. you know him better than that. he wants your approval, to show that he can take care of you; that he’s worthy of your time. you playfully roll your eyes.

“y’know, if I didn’t know any better, this could be considered a date.”

to be honest, that’s exactly what kiyoomi was going for. he had invited you to his place under the guise of studying, but his intensions were always romantic. he spent the entire afternoon deep cleaning to a playlist of exclusively love songs and decided to prepare a home cooked meal in preparation of your arrival. he lit candles for the ambiance (according to the cosmopolitan article he read) and took nearly forty minutes deciding what to wear. 

it’s strange; he’d never been the type to care about what other people thought of him, but with you, it matters. he wants so badly for you to like him it hurts. 

Keep reading

Vampire shidou and/or rin hcs 🤲🏾?

૮ ͈>◡< ͈ა warnings — please read + mdni ! characters aged up to 20s, suggestive, angst, fluff, vampires, blood loss, blood drinking, dry humping, self-hatred, fledgling!vampire rin itoshi, fem!reader.

vampire!rin doesn’t easily admit to his emotions.

even before he was turned by his sire (isagi, unfortunately), rin could never find it in him to say what he truly wanted or truly felt. it was like some kind of physical block, in his throat and hanging over his mind like a thick, grey cloud ready to thunder. he processes deeply, but expresses little to none.

that is why vampire!rin hardly reacts when his sire brings you home as nothing but a mere pet, a blood bank for the entire family. at least outwardly. he’s against it, not that he would say, to bring a human around a band of blood thirsty, vile blood suckers — to say rin hated his kind would be treason, to say that he missed the beat of his own heart and the warmth to his flesh would be a disrespect to the head of the clan and while he enjoys clashing with isagi…rin needs this clan to stay alive.

turning off every human instinct he ever had in turn for living and instead of death — vampire!rin had no choice but to rely on those before him for his survival, no matter how much he resented it.

“rinnie,” he hears you before he sees you. thanks to his new and improved senses, vampire!rin can’t mistake the steady beat of your heart from through the walls. “yoichi said you haven’t been feeding.”

your words are soft, cooed to him gently as you push into the fledgling’s quarters. another thing that rin doesn’t understand, especially when vampires have no desire to sleep. “you’re calling him by his first name.” vampire!rin observes, though he doesn’t speak unkindly nor with any malice directed at you. he can’t tell if it’s jealousy that spikes at his heart or wanton

logic cannot explain you either — a sweet human who does what she can for men who may tear her apart at a moment’s notice. you’re too good for any of them, a delicate flower struggling to bloom in a garden of thorns and rin is but one of them digging into your supple sides and drawing fresh blood. vampire!rin refuses to be like them, like the rest who see you as nothing but a meal.

you are precious to him.

“i know that you don’t like to listen to him, rin,” you continue and step into the room carefully, as though not to spook him. “but you need to drink,” the scent of your blood, more valuable than any gem, flickers through the air and starts a war with rin’s natural instincts. he grips at the sheets he lays on, covers his mouth with a free hand, throat bobbing and eyes wide. he cannot take from you. from what little humanity you have left. “if you fight it, you might die. i don’t want that to happen to you, rinnie.”

when he looks up, eyes flickering between an ocean’s shade of aquamarine and the daunting red that you’re so used to (a sign of rin being a freshly turned vampire), he sees the trickle of crimson drip down from where you’ve pricked yourself on the finger. you stand by vampire!rin’s bedside now, your face kind — worrisome.

vampire!rin doesn’t want to lose that one last part of him. if he drinks from you, you’re no longer the same — rin is no longer human and you no longer have a companion in this mad house.

“you need to,” your voice wavers, as if you might cry — and if rin could draw a breath, he’s sure it’d hitch. “it doesn’t make you like them, doesn’t make you evil. you need my blood to survive and i need you to stay alive. so please rin, just drink from me. for me.”

and like he wasn’t holding back at all, rin launches himself onto you with his entire body weight — his quick reflexes allowing him to cradle the back of your head before the both of you collide with the floor. vampire!rin’s mouth is cool around the tip of your finger as he gives into his instincts and laps at your finger until the blood flow has stopped. he doesn’t, however, dragging his tongue up the length of your arm and over your shoulder — slobbering wet and cool.

“r-rin!” you stutter out, neither in fear or in pain — but instead with need, rocking your hips up into the fledgling’s as his mouth finds your own and you can taste your metallic flavour against the ice sheet plains of his tongue.

either he doesn’t hear you, or vampire!rin knows to give you more. he lets you work your tongue between his lips and press against the blinding white of his newborn fangs, then his kisses turn uncoordinated, sloppy as they trail from your bitten lips to the expanse of your neck. life pulses beneath your flesh, hunger drives vampire!rin to pierce the skin with pointed teeth — his eyes rolling back into his skull and the ache for a meal subduing.

vampire!rin can’t help it, to melt into you as you mewl and his venom sinks into your blood stream — calming you, filling you with pleasure. shivers run down your spine but you’re not sure if it’s because of how cold rin is or because of how good him just drinking your blood feels. your hand comes up to twirl in his forest green locks, soothing him and whatever disgust he might have for himself as a vampire.

“don’t worry rinnie,” you offer your reassurances, dreamily. “take all that you need.”

vampire!rin may hate himself for it later once he fully transforms and the man he was before is a distant memory compared to the one aired by isagi yoichi. however, for now he’ll let himself be swept up in everything that is you. your taste, your scent, your whines and moans. and let you guide him through the insanity that is his eternity.

i saw ur vamp!isagi and it made me blush the whole day HSJDNCSJAJAN now i wanna see possessive vamp!nagi or rin !! i love ur words sm <3

૮ ͈>◡< ͈ა warnings — please read + mdni ! characters aged up, suggestive, mentions of blood, drinking blood, vampires, possession, pining, some nagireo if you squint, vampire!nagi, fem!reader.

vampire!nagi is a little different to the others in their clan. i think he’s a bit more lazy than possessive.

i feel as though he wouldn’t have as much of the trauma that older vampires like isagi and kunigami might do. he doesn’t find being one as much as a burden or a hassle other fledglings like rin might do either. nagi was mostly turned because reo liked to feed on him, liked his company and wanted to keep nagi as his treasure for the rest of eternity. 

for nagi, his undead life as a vampire is easy. he never has to sleep, as those of his kind don’t get tired. he can game all day and all night with no consequences of sluggishness the next morning. there’s no need for him to train or exercise — his reflexes are sharp and fast, sometimes they make him dizzy. how new and improved his senses are. but again, it’s a small price to pay in order to live forever. 

the only thing that truly irritates vampire!nagi is his change in appetite. eating before was a hassle, but now the desire quench his thirst with a cherry red elixir known as blood is even worse. magi’s fangs ache from their place protruding out of his pink gums — especially when he forgets that feeding is absolutely necessary for him to survive even in this modern day life. 

“your laziness will be the death of you, nagi,” his sire, reo, warns with twisted affection — letting the fleshing feed eagerly off of his wrist. “my blood alone can’t keep your appetite at bay for long. especially since you’re a newborn. isagi won’t be happy if you die.” the elder reminds him like it’s a threat. it’s not unnoticeable how much vampire!nagi admires the head of their clan, his power is something to behold. 

blood bags end up being the solution for the white haired vampire too lazy to go out hunting with the others. he sips on them and whenever hunger causes his stomach to cave in, he doesn’t have to move to snack on them. to run after his prey and force himself into a game of cat and mouse for food.

when isagi brings you home for the first time, the clan sees a switch in the younger vampire as soon as your scent wafts through the manor. nagi can’t bare the sting of his protruding fangs cutting up the insides of his cheeks, the blood lust that pours through him and darkens the soft grey of his eyes. everywhere vampire!nagi goes; he can taste the wisps of you, hear the sound of your heart thumping in its place lodged on the left side of your chest. 

throughout your days, you notice nagi staring with his tongue between his teeth and his Adam’s apple bobbing but he never makes a move on you to feed. not because he’s scared like rin, or wants you to beg for him like yoichi…but because there’s too much effort in feeding. he doesn’t know if you’re worth the hassle. 

vampire!nagi wouldn’t know how to deal with prey that screams, that cries and begs for mercy. he’s heard from the other boys that you’re an easy feed with someone you trust — but he doesn’t have the time nor the effort to build a connection with you (even if he’ll be alive for all of eternity). you start to feel as though seishiro doesn’t desire you in the ways that others do. not that it should matter to you, being held against your will and forced to feed monsters with your very life essence. 

but it does, in a twisted way, it does matter that the white haired vampire likes you. you wonder if it’s the way you smell, you know that if you’re too sweet on some days it puts some of the boys off. is it the way you dress? is your heartbeat muffled by the cashmere sweaters you drown in after dealing with a messy tangle in the sheets (mostly isagi’s fault), do you need to wear something lighter for nagi’s attention? 

you express all of this to reo during one of his late night sessions with you, his mouth cool against your bare shoulder as you sit with your back to his chest in his quarters. vampire!nagi’s cluelessness with girls seems to have carried over from his human life into the after life. it seems he needs a little help. and reo ever the gossip, blabs about your little crush on his fledgling to the man himself.

“i do want you,” vampire!nagi breaths against your lips, looming over you despite having to bend down to your height. he easily corners you on a day when the manor is empty and you’re left to tend to household chores. the rest of the clan are out hunting. “you’re a distraction, pretty thing. can’t focus on my games when you walk through the house and smell that good.” 

you won’t deny that he makes you dopamine rush through you, makes you dizzy at the very sight of his fangs just resting on the swell of his bottom lip. nagi is a pretty vampire, you won’t deny that — and his sudden attention has your world spinning. 

he pushes you back against the door with one arm resting on the wood above your head , and you find his sudden effort attractive — making you want to give it all up for him. “then why won’t you feed from me?” your voice is shaky, not fearful and it sends seishiro’s instincts into overdrive. 

“i want to do that too,” vampire!nagi reiterates quietly, suppressing the growl that so annoyingly interrupts his words. “but i didn’t wan’ it to be a hassle. i don’t know how t’hunt like the others. i’ve never…captured my own prey b’fore.” the way you shake underneath nagi’s crimson gaze only serves to turn on his instincts. he wants to drain you dry, wants to see you fall apart and piece you back together. he understands the drive and the hunger of his counterparts… and why they like a sweet thing like you so much. “pretty thing i—“ 

“let me make this easy for you then,” you whisper breathily, so quietly that you almost don’t hear yourself speak. nagi does, his eyes flickering to your lips and then down to every part of you that’s exposed — leaving you up to his greedy scrutiny. you offer your wrist, just like reo does, your scent strong and divine. 

vampire!nagi’s pupils dilate and the black consumed the colour shift in his eyes as he matches into your wrist, tongue lapping over the puncture marks from his fangs as your saccharine blood pours into his mouth. internally, nagi chides himself for his own laziness for you taste so much better than the bags of blood he’s rewarded with by his sire. 

you’re so much more decadent and your squirms against his tall, leaner and cold frame are completely worth it. it causes a pitiful lecherousness to crawl up his spine and curl around the heart that lays still in his chest (though if he were alive nagi is sure that it would beat for you and only you). he sucks and swallows and moans around whatever you give him eagerly, right up until you fall limp in his arms and he has to press you to him to keep you up. 

you’re only set free from vampire!nagi’s clutched when your darling whimpers start to die down and you go quiet from the blood loss. when he pulls away, however, you instantly search for his lips — preening when seishiro kisses you with a passion neither of you knew he was capable of. you taste yourself on his tongue, and he lavishes himself in the scent you leave on his mouth and his lips as he licks against your own. 

“from now on, you’ll come to me when i call,” he grunts against your cheek, allowing you to catch your breath impatiently. he forgets that humans need to breathe where vampires don’t. what a hassle. “i won’t need to hunt you, right, angel?” 

“never.” you promise, smiling in satisfaction and running a hand through the very white locks that tickle your cheek. “you won’t need to catch me when you already have me.” 

from then on, around the manor you’re mostly tossed between the fledglings (and isagi, who practically owns you when they’re not around). rin and seishiro get into immature little brawls over you which the taller, white haired vampire usually wins because his desire for you turns him into some kind of monster that the clan can’t handle. 

vampire!nagi hisses and snarls, claws at anyone who dares to touch you when he’s in the mood for a feed. but when he isn’t, you’re sleeping in his quarters with your head in his lap as he games the night away.  because maybe vampire!nagiis a little more possessive than he once was. he likes having your scent on him, and his on you too.na

reminiscence.

fem! reader, scara and nahida would act like siblings change my mind, includes sumeru archon quest spoilers!

“would you mind telling me more about [name]?”

scaramouche had to make sure he was hearing things correctly.

“excuse me?”

“[name]. i want to know more about her.”

the tiny god of wisdom gently rocks back and forth on her makeshift swing created by her control over dendro—watching over the city of sumeru with soft eyes whilst the former harbinger stares daggers onto her back of her head.

a sigh escapes the man's lips from behind her, a telltale sign of his incoming exasperation, “you read my mind without my permission again? i remember clearly telling you to cut it out, didn't i?” his annoyance doesn't come unnoticed by the observant child.

“it was quite improper of me to do so, but i'm the god of wisdom. i actively seek out knowledge, and such—i couldn't resist the temptation of peering onto a mind as eccentric as yours.” her tone remains understanding of his irritation, yet all the more wise in explaining her unwarranted prying.

the dark-haired male behind her hums, leaning back onto the tree as he shuts his eyes closed, seemingly given up on voicing his displeasure towards the archon.

“tell me what you know so i'll know where to start.”

his immediate compliance makes the curious child turn her head his way, staring at him with wide eyes.

“you...” nahida trails off as she smiles in relief, quickly reminding herself to not comment on his chosen act of opening up as he might get impatient and dismiss the subject altogether.

the distant chatter of her people down at the city successfully averts her attention from him, her eyes now gazing down at a certain blonde traveller stopping by to buy some supplies for their next adventure.

“you were dreaming of her during your slumber. she's...the fourth betrayal you encountered, correct?” nahida knows that you were anything but a betrayal, but she has to bend her words to his whims for now as to avoid a temper tantrum.

scaramouche hums in response.

“out of all the companions you've trusted, you seemed to cling onto your memories of her the most. why is that?”

“if you've read my mind, then i'm sure you already know why.”

“you're not gonna deny it?” the lesser lord cranes her neck to look at him over her shoulder, brows raised questioningly at his statement. “that you were in love, romantically?” she had carefully formed the question to give him the freedom of denying it just in case he wasn't ready to face his past just yet, but this situation was clearly something she didn't expect.

the male remains resting against the tree behind him, uncaring of the child's rather surprised gaze as his eyes stay shut. “if there's one thing you taught me while being under your care, it has to be acceptance.” he feels his anemo vision thrum to life by his chest, but he pays no mind to it as he continues, “i have nothing to lose now, so I might as well stop lying to myself to give my existence some type of meaning.”

nahida can't help the softening of her eyes towards the male, her smile widening by a fraction before she returns her gaze towards the city below her. if anything, that's probably his way of thanking her. it's a pretty roundabout way considering the better alternatives, but it managed to get the message across, didn't it?

she sighs in content, “that's essentially all I know about her. once again, would you mind telling me how she was like?”

you would probably pass out if you found out that the god of wisdom wishes to know more about you.

the ends of his lips twitch upwards for a moment as he thinks back on the memories he held dearly of you;

ranging from the embarrassing and funny moments you two shared like that one time you accidentally mistook him as a girl due to how graceful and fair his skin and face was, or up to the more intimate moments—like watching the narukami festival unfold along with its blooming fireworks from the mountain peaks of tatarasuna...

...and that one time he finally let your desires free and bared himself for you to touch—his first time.

he feels his cheeks burn at the thought, crossing his arms with a huff as if to breathe out the sinful thoughts.

now that he was free from the shackles of burdens and hatred, everything he experienced with you no longer seemed to be as bitter and disgusting to recall—unlike the times before where he'd have occasional dreams of you back in the fatui, the pettiness in his nerves as he calls it a nightmare that reminds him of how naïve and weak he was back then.

he returns to the matter at hand with a new sense of clarity—now what was he supposed to say again?

right. he was supposed to tell nahida about you.

he can't believe he's still blushing over you after all these centuries.

lifting his eyelids, the first thing he catches in his eyesight was nahida's knowing smile—directed right at him as she stays still on her swing.

why is she—?

oh.

making haste with his movements, he quickly lifts his hand to pull down his hat over his face, only to discover he wasn't wearing his hat at the moment—so pathetically enough, he opts to cover his face with a hand, shyly hiding his face from the grinning archon as he looks away with reddened cheeks and ears.

he got too carried away while reminiscing, it seems.

“i see...so you're still very much in love with her, hm?” nahida speaks up with a teasing tilt to her voice, relishing in this rare moment of the male's lowered guard, “not like i blame you. she was really pretty in your dreams, and probably even prettier in person.”

“shut up. do you want me to continue or not?”

with a quick apology amidst her fit of giggles, she nods, looking away once again from the eccentric wanderer to give him the privacy he deserves.

“sorry, sorry. now you may start.”

her curiousity is piqued. just how much of an impact did you make to cause the male to make such interesting reactions?

she's about to find out now, it seems.

might make part two idk

ᡕᠵ᠊ᡃ່࡚ࠢ࠘ ⸝່ࠡࠣ᠊߯᠆ࠣ࠘ᡁࠣ࠘᠊᠊ࠢ࠘𐡏 — THE HANDMAIDEN.

In the frozen land where the outcasts belong and the peculiar is home, tomorrow is never promised. Intertwined your fate with the Harbingers might be, it’s in your best interest to remember: the cold swallows the weak and Snezhnaya knows no tears.

⋆ ࣪.* ࣪.⋆ f!reader. undertones of yandere. unprotected sex. power play. a hint of dark content so be wary! further warnings are written on each character’s part! not proofread.

PIERRO ! breeding kink. lots of cum. unprotected.

it was the jester who first deemed a handmaiden like you worthy of attention. from simply picking you out in the throng of retainers in zapolyarny palace to exchanging curt greetings whenever you serve him tea, your existence slowly took shape in his mind. it was but a mere dot until he molded it into something bigger than yourself: he offered you status in exchange for fucking your pussy raw.

whenever pierro ruts into you ruthlessly, you think of it as his personal goal. the goal of needing to puff up your cunt with his fresh cum once his cock and balls begin to swell. pierro folds you in positions that give him access to your womb, where he dumps fat amount of cum after fat amount of cum. doing so much as pinning his balls to your folds and plugging your hole with his sheer size, pierro is adamant about not spilling a drop. and when your pussy does leak, he takes it upon himself to stuff you with another load double the amount of what you spilled.

some nights while you lay on his chest and with courage flickering like an ember in your heart, the urge to ask him why tips your tongue. but before your curiosity could materialize into verbal words, you would be reminded of where he truly hailed and what the circumstances are of said land. perhaps pierro fucks you with a need to get you pregnant as one way to spread his khaenri’ahn blood.

CAPITANO ! womb fucking. in new york’s voice i know his dick big— i know it. size kink.

capitano thinks of you as a battlefield. in truth, you are nothing of the sort. not a wasteland of bodies emitting miasma putrid enough to destroy one’s stomach. it took him weeks chewing over the irony before surmising that his enticement has everything to do with his lusting for blood and annihilation. in his eyes, you are a battlefield he must conquer. unlike pierro who has given you status, capitano offered you strength in exchange for your little puffy pussy taking his huge cock.

don’t be scared, he’d whisper, it’ll fit. pressed against your stomach, no cock of such girth and length could ever fit in someone’s cunt. you feel so little in his arms, extremely so whenever you work your body down his whole length. and once he’s fully sheathed inside, with his fat crown pushing right into your womb and veins thick enough to stimulate, you shiver and sob. capitano is deep in your guts and he knows it, always drawing gentle circles on your back to allay the sting of having stretched your pussy out and to soothe the enfeebling sensation of his cock tip kissing your womb each gentle thrust.

many stories surround him, most of which are bone-chilling. they say capitano is the harbinger of death, and that hiding behind his mask is the skewed face of a monster hell spat out. you admit to believing the hearsay once, but calloused is his skin might be, you have never been touched by hands so gentle. consider it clemency, since you must not forget: capitano can easily break you if he so does will it himself.

DOTTORE ! exhibitionism. voyeurism. creampie.

in zapolyarny palace, the name dottore typically sparks caution in the hearts of many. christened as the doctor, he is the paradox of warmth normally seen in someone in the field of medicine. you have done all that you could to be stationed somewhere else other than in his laboratory, but a handmaiden’s fate is as pliant as clay in the hands of those with power. therefore, when he offered you wisdom, all you could do was give him the same. wisdom that is through letting dottore’s segments completely fuck you witless in front of him.

he likes observing your face contorting with lewdness. watching drool racing down your chin, tits bouncing as one of his segments drills his cock into you from the back. there’s nothing more gratifying than biting your lips with your eyes rolling heavenward while your pussy sucks in cock after cock. he enjoys the sounds you make but loves popping his cock down your throat when your screams become too noisy for his liking. but when you come undone by having been fucked until your legs are shaking with thick amounts of cum spilling from your cunt, dottore finds himself admiring nothing else but the image before him.

he wouldn’t have thought that his sexual fantasies could be sated without venturing out to the nearest brothel. for that, he bestows you a chance to ask him two questions every time he fucks you. it is a deal sealed months ago that has benefited both parties involved. and dottore loves to keep things as it is. he’d continue doing so as long as you wouldn’t ask questions at the cost of your precious, precious life. it does not matter how much dottore adores you, he would never think twice.

PANTALONE ! predator and prey dynamics. dubious content. nasty. he rubs your asshole. i’m sorry i was so horny while writing his part. creampie. drool. unprotected.

possessing mora enough to buy a whole region makes a man forthright in his intentions, be it pure or soiled with nothing but personal gain. because in the face of money, even the most deviant minds and sickest of hearts appear gilded. you have been proven of the warped reality when letters from your family burst forth in your chamber. each parchment contains fervent gratitude for a name that turned your blood gelid. mr. pantalone is a very kind man, indeed. please do not forget to thank him for the year’s worth of food he supplied us.

the first time you thanked him, pantalone fucked your pussy until the hole was gaping, as though asking for more. he completely owned you: mind, body, and soul. he pistoled his cock deep in your guts for hours, with his eyes rolling back to his skull and his cheeks tinted pink. at one point he almost cried overstimulating his cock tip by kissing your cervix and squirting bouts of cum in your womb. you’ve found out that he particularly prefers when you bounce on his thick shaft, squelching him dry while he gropes your tits and licks your nipples until his mouth is spilling out saliva. sometimes he would rub your asshole as you come around his cock, because he revels whenever your pussy pulses around his girth to milk his balls sapped of cum.

as a man with unparalleled wealth, pantalone sure likes to count. he’s skilled at keeping scores, striking a line on your inner thigh with a glaring ink for every round where he leaves your cunt cum-filled. with each line equivalent to ten million mora. you’d enter pantalone’s chamber every week as a handmaiden, then come out a wealthy one— albeit powerless. regardless of how blinding mora is, it must not hide the truth from you: pantalone, the richest man of all, can take your opulence just as easily as he gave it.

CHILDE ! mindbreak. protected sex. condom used. childe is feral. drool.

childe, the 11th of the harbingers, is appreciated by many if not all. an unusual sight in zapolyarny palace, yet the warmest one. he is a glorious warrior, especially when wielding his weapon. a sight worthy of awe, for he moves with precision and speed that are not of this world. owning aberrant strength, childe is meant for blood and glory. and he evinces it all by providing you security whenever you prove just how formidable of a harbinger he is behind closed doors.

drool on the pillows, hands barely hanging on to the sheets, with your mind spinning after hours and hours of childe drilling his cock into you until your stomach flattens on the bed. he pounds your pussy vehemently, shifting positions every time to abuse your sensitive spots. feet over his shoulders, knees against your chest, missionary, name it all. he’ll fuck you in ten different positions each night to break your sanity. and every time he slides his cock out of your wet cunt with his fat and heavy cum pulling the rubber down his twitching shaft, he ties the condom around your legs as proof of his strength.

what makes a warrior is his stamina, and childe would do anything to prove that he’s a formidable one. be it through fighting or fucking, he has yet to fail in either of those aspects. he has dominated you more than once. it is you who willingly walked in on his life like a vulnerable mouse sauntering to a viper’s maw. you have no one else but yourself to blame for the venom in your veins.

SCARAMOUCHE ! voyeurism. perv!scaramouche.

scaramouche is his name and he’s the most enigmatic of all. some whispers say that it is merely a moniker to conceal his identity. to bury his past, to birth him anew. vexed with more than half of the zapolyarny palace, the quiet places and shadows are his companions. you think he hates you, too, for none could be spared from scaramouche’s temper. but unlike everyone else, he has found something quite entertaining in you. regardless of its nature, you have not exactly been favored by the harbinger. he remains truthful to his ill temper no matter the circumstances.

when you part your thighs before him, shaking fingers while playing with your pulsing clit, the way he stares burns at your skin. there is humor in his eyes. as though the way you pump two fingers in your wet and untouched cunt serves as peak amusement for him. perhaps it is, perhaps it is not. scaramouche has mastered the schooling of his expressions, sticking only to that of pure malice even if he has you bared before him. he loves commanding you to touch your cunt with your legs extended wide, or pinch and rub on your clit until you’re shaking at where you sit. sometimes he’d tease and tug at your nipples, but he has never gone further than that. and you fear that he never will.

brewing between you is one crooked relationship. scaramouche has not any need for you other than to satisfy his odd fantasies. he has been forthright from the beginning about his intentions, saying that he merely wants to see for himself what’s so special about a handmaiden like you that has the other harbingers on their knees. all his provocations hold with them a promise, and that perhaps one day, scaramouche will try and seek out the answers for himself. but that day is not today.

💭 reblogs && feedback appreciated !

promises, promises and more promises

Rindou Haitani x Reader

Rindou doesn't understand why you stay with him

Rindou stands frozen in the doorway of your shared-penthouse with his eyes blown wide in shock as you grip his shoulders for support and tiptoe to kiss him; once on his cheek, then his nose before finally, flat on his lips. You walk back to where you came from, leaving him standing there with a face so embarrassingly flushed red that no one would believe the two of you have been married for two years-- going on three years this spring. He touches his cheek, as if still in shock that you kissed him, that you're his; the rings that you both wear and your wedding photos that you refuse to take off the wall, proof enough.

He blinks and hisses, shakes his leg when his mind registers the sudden stinging pain by his ankle. You come running towards him, again, with your arms outstretched in some sort of a greeting, to which Rindou opens his arms too in welcoming. However, much to his dismay, you drop to your knees once you near him and for a moment something pregnant with lust and amusement flickers of his face and he thinks, oh? that type of greeting. You seem to be full of surprises today because there is no greeting, he realizes once he looks down and sees you scooping up a small, white kitten.

Ah, he hears himself say, that makes much more sense. Four, maybe five, seconds pass, consisting only of you staring up at him cluelessly and the soft purring of the kitten that he assumes is in protest of the affection that he is yet to give it. Rindou makes no move to pet the cat because one, you don't own a cat, at least, not since he last saw you this morning when you kissed him good luck (and good bye) before he left for work. And two, he has already had a bad start with cats, he has never been very fond of them since that one time when he was merely eight and a stray cat ate his goldfish. Still, he extends his hand towards the white ball of fur because if it's for you, he'll do anything just once.

The laugh you let out when the cat (that you're yet to name because you honestly, weren't sure if Rin would let you keep it) bears it's teeth at your now seemingly coward husband, is ridiculously loud and filled with too much joy (or so Rindou thinks), causing him to quickly pull his hand away and shoot you a glare that is both stern but filled with love. Because this is you we're talking about, his very very pretty wife that he would flip the world over for. "It's ok Rin, you don't need to play with him," you say lightheartedly. He hasn't told you to get rid of it so no, there is no need for you to pick a fight with him, even though, deep down, you know that if he said he didn't want it you'd probably, most definitely, take it back to the pet shop.

You kiss his cheek before walking off into the kitchen where he can see you've already set the table and plated the food, which once he gets closer, he realizes is now cold. So perhaps, he's kept you waiting. It makes his heart sink. He doesn't realize you've dropped the cat until he sees it circling his leg, he suddenly becomes stiff and rigid, the fear that the small, little animal will somehow hurt him resurfaces in his mind. "Did you wait long?" he mumbles, a small frown playing onto his lips while you tug him towards the table. You shake your head and his frown deepens. You'd never say yes because you've just always been like that: too nice and too sweet to him, the type of wife to hold back your tears on nights when he comes home bruised and bloodied.

He remembers that night, not too long ago, when he came home soaked with bright red, painting your newly bought rug red with his own blood (not the blood of people he's killed, like usual). The image of you leaning over the tub to stitch the shallow gash in his chest while you struggled to not run to the toilet and vomit, as well as burst into tears, haunts him. Yet, he comes home every day to you running to kiss him at the door and he's surprised each time that the penthouse isn't empty-- that you haven't left.

"Rin? Are you listening?" you beckon, waving your had in front his face. He blinks, slowly, before nodding and picking up his chopsticks to eat. Now, he actually does listen to you as you tell him about the blue bird that flew into the house this morning, not too long after he left, and about the jellyfish you saw on tv that reminded you of his hair-- at this, he laughs because you, only you, are allowed to make fun of his hair. You wave your hand across his face again and he realizes he's been mindlessly staring at you but now, when he tries to refocus on what he was looking at, he can't remember.

Sorry, I'm sorry, he whispers against your skin before kissing the diamond on your wedding ring. You remember scolding him for how much it cost when he proposed to you, he only laughed and slid it onto your finger, mumbling something about but it's what you deserve. You have no idea what he's apologizing for (you think, he doesn't know either) but you smile at him like a silly little girl because your big bad, gangster of a husband is kissing your knuckles, one by one.