Mmm Kafka Or Your Fav Honkai Girl/s With A Pussy Drunk/obsessed Fem Reader Who Just Adores Spending Time

mmm kafka or your fav honkai girl/s with a pussy drunk/obsessed fem reader who just adores spending time between their legs? 💓

A/N: if y’all want a lil headcanons for which HSR or Genshin girls moan, whimper or grunt just uhhh lemme know cause I have thoughts 👀

Content Warnings: pussy eating, somnophilia, dacryaphilia, pictures/recording during sex, semi public sex.

Kafka

Oh she’s going to abuse your obsession with her pussy, not that you mind ;)

Her favorite thing to do is sit on her pretty throne, her fingers clawing at your scalp or pulling harshly on your hair just to hear you moan when she does so ~

You’re sad? Frustrated? She’ll lean back and let you just lose yourself inside of her, forgetting about all those pesky thoughts in that pretty head of yours.

If you’d been arguing she wants you to make it up to each other by letting you eat her out. It’s a win, win. She’s never been good with words but actions? That’s the best way for her to show you how she feels…

You had come home from work obviously stressed out, rubbing your temples and dropping your bags at the door. She’s sitting on the couch reading when you walk in, her content smile falling when she sees the dark bags under your eyes.

She pulls you closure to her, kissing you on the forehead before gently pushing you to your knees. She’s just as obsessed with this as you are, she wants you to be good and work for her pleasure.

Your eyes light up at the thought of being between her thighs for hours, forgetting about all your troubles…

“It’s okay baby, just forget about the rest for the world”

Her lips curve into a sweet smile. She loves moments like this more than anything, she loves you more than anything. No matter what’s going on out there, behind these walls it’s just you and her.

“It’s just me and you now”.

Silverwolf

Wolfie would be incredibly shy about this, not that she doesn’t like it! It’s not that at all, in fact she loves it when you wanna get between her legs she’s just nervous about it, she’s not used to that kinda attention.

Along that same line she’s not used to all the praise you’d give her with eating her out, on the inside she’s melting when you tell her how good she looks reclined in her chair letting you have your way with her, telling her how you love her pretty whines.

On the outside though she’s a blushing mess, telling you to ‘shut up’ or that ‘you’re too cheesy’.

That’s why when you come up to her, love in your eyes, sinking to the floor in front of her she’s immediately cautious of what you’re about to do…

She’s playing one of her games but appears to be playing alone. So you decide that this is the best time to make your move, you wanna see if she can keep her focus while your head’s between her legs…

“You know…”

You drag you hands idly up her thighs.

“I could support you under the desk while you play~”

The tips of her ears turn red and she hooks her fingers under the waist band of her shorts to drag them down her legs. She doesn’t say anything, just spreads her legs obediently 💜.

Himeko

She’s a little shy about it but doesn’t show it, it makes her nervous thinking about you losing yourself between her legs but she’s such a control freak she’ll never let that nervousness show.

You want to eat her out until she falls asleep? Thats perfectly fine with her, she was having a hard time sleeping anyway so why not have some fun?

Or maybe you wanna wake her up with your head between her thighs? That’s even better. She loves waking up to your tongue deep inside her, she couldn’t ask for a better way to start her day.

At this point she’s grown so used to being woken up this way that sometimes she doesn’t even wake up, reaching her climax while still sleep. You have to wonder what kind of dreams that gives her…

You had woken up some time before her and decided you were getting bored, what better to cure your boredom than eating her out while you wait for her to wake up?

You shift yourself as quietly as possible and chuckle to yourself at the realization she slept nude last night save for the oversized shirt. Makes your life easier.

You don’t waste anymore time, diving straight between her legs. Her reactions aren’t big, you feel her roll her hips up just a little in search of more of you, quiet sighs leaving her lips.

You hadn’t expected her to wake up but you were pleased nonetheless when you felt her hand reach out, stroking your face gently with lust clouding her eyes.

“Well good morning to me”.

Natasha

She’s very pleased with this turn of events, it greatly benefits her having someone completely obsessed with her pleasure.

She spends all day, everyday taking care of everyone else so she’d love nothing more than for you to drop to your knees and fuck her brains out.

She loves anytime you come visit her at work, it never fails to make her feel less stressed whatever the nature of your visit. Though she won’t lie those days where you come spend hours under her desk hold a special place in her heart ❤️.

She doesn’t mind who’s in charge most days, if you want her to boss you around and lock you in with her long pretty legs she’ll happily oblige.

Or if you want be in charge, kissing and licking every inch of her until she’s whining with tears welled up in those big, beautiful eyes she’s just as happy to obey ~

As if on cue you walk in to her office, locking the door discreetly behind you. Her eyes flash with mischief, watching with a pleased expression at the way you make yourself at home under her desk.

You pull her legs apart and look up to say something before diving in…

“Doctors orders~”

March 7th

Definitely the shyest out of all the girls, she can never bring herself to ask you for help so she’s very relieved when she realizes how much you want to to spend all day ravishing her.

Loves and I mean loves to take pictures of you while you’re between her legs, she has an entire album dedicated to just that <33

Would wrap her legs around you so tightly, her free hand pushing the back of your head till you’re buried so deep you can hardly breath, not that you mind.

You’ll be so lost in concentration that you don’t even notice her rummaging around until you hear the *snap* of her camera…

“Smile for the picture!”

She’s a cryer so you best be careful spending so long down there. After only a few rounds her pretty eyes would already be full of tears, she can’t help it she’s just so sensitive and you’re so good with your tongue…

You almost feel bad for making her cry like that, almost. But it just feels so good fucking her how she deserves it, giving her orgasm after orgasm until even you’ve lost count…

“Y/n please…”

Oh your poor baby, her lip quivers and her thighs shake. Left over make up is running down her cheeks, leaving little black stains of mascara. The sight only spurs you on, you need to make her cum again, so you dive back in…

“Just one more baby, you can do that for me can’t you?”

Blue Haired Boy

you play with Buggy's hair while the crew is away

Cw/ Fem! terms, food, fluff, whiny Buggy, OPLA! Buggy, he's just a head in this one lol

AN/ this is just me clowning around before getting my requests done, so not beta read.

Rolling over on the hammock for the fifth time, you grabbed at the thin pillow and shoved it off and onto the floor. Something about the situation was reminiscent of being stuffed into a wonton wrapper.

God, being the new girl sucks.

You thought the crew would have found some use for you, you were a jack-of-all-trades after all, but it seemed like there was only one role left to fulfill. And as the newest member of the crew, you were responsible for the more unsavory job.

“H-ello! I know you can hear me, broccoli hairrrr~”

Buggy’s singsongy tone reminded you of that very role, clown babysitter. Sighing as the throbbing headache in your temple mixed with the sharp pain in your back, you decided to stand up and get something done, anything that could distract you from your boredom.

The bag that held the clown’s head was on the kitchen table, much to Sanji’s chagrin. Other than the slight shaking and constant talking, he was an exemplary hostage.

As you walked closer to the bag, Buggy’s frantic ravings grew louder. Some empathetic little part of you felt bad for him, so you decided to use your better judgment and give him a little fresh air. That old sack must start to stink after a while.

As you open the bag and dump out the clown’s head, he immediately sprung up and winked at you dramatically. It was as if he was trying to max out his charisma.

“Why hello..~ You’re a new face, aren’t you?”

The deadpan look you tossed his way didn’t break his disposition, instead, it seemed to egg him on.

“I’m Y/N, nice to meet you.”

Buggy’s head tilted to the side before he smiled brightly.

“A pretty name for a pretty girl…”

That comment got a little chuckle out of you, and he seemingly beamed.

Gently picking him up by his head, near his ears where he wouldn’t be uncomfortable, you placed him on the kitchen counter and pulled out a small kitchen knife.

“You hungry?”

Twirling the knife in-between your fingers, you looked at him expectantly. You had always had a deep sense of domesticity towards your crew, and as he was a temporary companion, he would be receiving your support too.

“Where do you think the food would go?”

Another laugh erupted from you, this one was genuine and hearty, and Buggy’s head laughed along with you.

Good point, clown.”

You picked his head up again and brought him to your makeshift little corner of the ship, laying in your soft red hammock with Buggy on your stomach as you examined him. Your fingers slowly threaded through his hair and adjusted his bandana.

He furrowed his brows slightly, trying to discern what your motive was for the affectionate act. Something clicked in his head as he met your eyes.

“Hey! If you're gonna get all sweet with me, you could've bought me dinner first!”

Laugher came from you in droves, and the clown, clearly proud of himself, bounced a little in the air.

As you continued to fix and adjust his hair and bandana, Buggy got a little quieter, and if you looked really close, you could see a little flush on his cheeks and (what was present of) his neck.

“This hair…it’s all yours huh?”

Your fingers threaded through a particular knot in his ocean blue locks, and he sighed a little.

“Y-yeah! I mean, I don’t dye it or anything…”

A softer smile appeared on your face as you patted the top of his gorgeous hair, sure, it wasn’t the cleanest; but it was still beautiful. The blue hair complimented his eyes, and framed his face perfectly.

“It’s so thick and voluminous, you could easily grow it out.”

Buggy’s painted face reddened more at that comment, the blush was visible as his grease paint began pulling off.

His silence sort of astonished you, but it was short lived.

“You think that would look alright..?”

Before you could speak again, only to confirm his thoughts, his head lept upwards into the air dramatically.

“ABSOLUTELY IT WOULD! ANYTHING WOULD LOOK GREAT ON A HUNK LIKE ME!”

Your shared laughter echoed throughout the night, a verbal symbol of an amusingly unstable relationship between the two of you blossoming.

HOLA, amo como escribes las escenas nsfw, así que podría pedir un escenario con Wriothesley en donde somos una prosti pero el nos enseña un sexo lleno de amor y cosas fluffly pq se enamoro en vez del sexo sucio y feo¿

JSBDKD NO SE SI SE ENTIENDA, PERO GRACIAS DE ANTEMANO 🫶🫶

💖~ aydios amix, ME ENCANTÓ ESTA IDEA DKGDKHD literal podrían ser el típico "Yo te saco de trabajar, mi reina, ntp" KDHKDH gracias por tus palabras~ me hace feliz que te gusten mis escritos! ✨

Me pasé de verg* y esto terminó siendo muy largo, no sé si le debería hacer parte dos pero realmente quiero hacer algo más bonito con esta idea~ Escuché "All you wanna do" del musical Six mientras escribía esto, me gustó en lo personal

Warning: smut, angst, prostitution | Google Translate sponsors me (it's a lie) If I made any mistakes in the english translation, I would be happy to read your comments! | Content in spanish and english

Spanish:

La vida es difícil, está llena de baches y no fluye como el agua de una fuente. Esas eran las palabras que tus padres te repetían todos los días como si fuera un mantra divino. La vida se trataba de trabajar para no morir, hacer lo que fuera necesario para comer un trozo de pan, para asegurar que la niña que criaban no moriría de hambre ni de frío. Trabajaban día y noche, remendaban la ropa y las mantas, los zapatos y los muebles viejos, todo debía cumplir una labor incluso si ya no servía, el reloj era un muerto viviente que tu padre siempre trataba de reparar con algunas herramientas oxidadas y la luz de una vela que casi no tenía cera, pero siempre sonaba a sus horas.

La vida era difícil, se trataba de trabajar para conseguir gas y poder hervir agua para hacer sopa, se trataba de bañarse en agua helada en la mañana y trabajar todo el día para caer rendido en un triste colchón en el piso. Eso aprendiste de tus padres desde joven y entendiste, aquella noche fría en que un mazo oxidado abrió el cráneo de tu padre por la frustración, que sus palabras eran muy sabias. Entendiste, el día en que tu madre falleció por enfermedad y sin disponibilidad de medicamentos, que la vida era tan fría como el agua con el que te lavaste la cara en la mañana, tan dura como el piso en el que dormiste por varias noches, entendiste que tenías que salir de ahí de alguna manera.

Aprendiste muchas cosas en tu vida, que si lavas tu cara antes de salir a vender periódicos tendrías unas monedas de más, que si preferías usar una blusa sin mangas tendrías más atención y eso te podría ayudar a comer más que una hogaza de pan duro. Entendiste que siendo atractiva te podrías salvar cuando un hombre te llevó para trabajar en algo más "adecuado".

Pura mierda. Un edificio con luces extravagantes y cortinas traslúcidas, una prisión lujosa donde has sido reclusa desde la adolescencia. No podías quejarte, se supone, tenías una cama suave y comida, un techo que no permitiría que la lluvia ni el sol te enferme, tenías una habitación y un baño decente por primera vez en tu vida y la ropa que vestías, si bien era incómoda, entallada y lujosa, era ropa y se agradecía. Para alguien que no tenía nada de eso, era una bendición que pagaste con un trabajo sucio.

Bailaste, cantaste, aprendiste a conversar y a sonreír aún si estabas incómoda, aprendiste a no quitar las manos que te hacían temblar de miedo, aprendiste a no chillar de dolor ni de miedo cuando te usaban como si fueras un vulgar agujero o una muñeca bonita para mancillar.

Lloraste al final de cada encuentro, no disfrutaste ninguno, siendo todo jalones y mordidas de demonios que arrancaban tu piel, los ojos de los monstruos que dormían bajo tu cama queriendo llevarte al infierno te veían como un trozo de carne lujosa, preparados para rostizarte con especias asquerosas y comerte, y tirar tus huesos contra el plato para que alguien más limpiara el comedor donde pecaron.

Un nuevo día, una ducha con agua helada y tu cabello enmarañado en el espejo, tu cuerpo dañado ya no era lo que solía ser cuando te preparabas para vender periódicos en las oscuras calles, sino una figura más madura y cuidada, el ejercicio y la alimentación que regulaban para mantenerte como un sujeto atractivo combinaba con los moretones espantosos en tus piernas y en tu cuello. Los odiabas, y te apresurabas a cubrir tu cuerpo con una toalla para seguir llorando una mañana más.

La vida era triste, fría y solitaria. Te trataría como una pieza en un tablero, sin importancia, destinada a ser abusada y manchada por otros. Hasta que te salvaron.

Wriothesley, que sonríe cada vez que lo llamas. Wriothesley, cuyos ojos se suavizan cuando te ve. Wriothesley, que no temió en usar su fortuna para mantenerte. Wriothesley, que te salvó de esa prisión pintada de lujoso pecado, depresión y miseria.

El hombre que llegó al lugar donde trabajabas y se quedó hechizado con tu figura, que casi detuvo una misión para verte un poco más, sentir tu mirada en él mientras bailabas con un traje tan soez. Viendo a través de tus ojos seductores y tu sonrisa caprichosa lo poco que quedaba de una mujer feliz, que buscaba aferrarse a la sugestión como último aspecto verdadero de una personalidad destrozada por las luces rojas y música persuasiva.

Esa noche lo supo, debía sacarte de ese lugar cuánto antes.

El perfume femenino se sentía como humo en tus pulmones, pero era el adecuado para ti, el labial rojo en tus labios y las sombras cuidadosamente difuminadas en tus párpados para que luzcan más bellos eran como se esperaban de alguien como tu, que vestía con poca ropa y joyas asquerosas contra tu piel. Una mujer, un bello trozo de carne que alguien más engulliría hoy.

La puerta se abrió para el caballero de oscuros cabellos, el guardia lo había guiado hacia la recámara de oscuridad tenebrosa. Entró, recibió sus felicitaciones del asqueroso hombre que te miró con una sonrisa repugnante y que después cerró la puerta nuevamente, dejándote indefensa frente a un lobo hambriento. Sonreíste, volviendo a tomar un poco de la seguridad que se supone que tenías como la diva de este maldito lugar.

"Buenas noches, monsieur..." Un tono bajo, como un susurro, bonito y encantador, mezclado con la caricia que diste a tus piernas cruzadas. Sabías quién era el hombre, y precisamente por eso –y porque de lo contrario te castigarían si lo trataban mal– no te permitirse ser nada más que una encantadora bolsa para su semen. Agradecías en silencio que no fuera un viejo otra vez, estabas harta de los vejestorios orgullosos que se hacían llamar hombres entrando por las puertas.

Fue preocupante en un inicio, el caballero no te quitó la mirada de encima pero no se dedicó aa comerte con la mirada, sus ojos no reflejaban sus ganas de arrancarte la lencería de un vibrante color rojo, sino que se mostraba molesto mientras paseaba la vista por el conjunto que tenías puesto. Temblaste, no acostumbrada a cuando te volvió a mirar a los ojos y sonrió compasivo.

"El color no te queda." Habló de lo más calmado, dando algunos pasos hasta atraer la silla que estaba a un lado y dejándote lejos, respetando tu espacio personal cuando se sentó y volvió a mirarte. "Este lugar es muy... pequeño, no parece una buena habitación para ti." Sus ojos analíticos pasearon por toda la habitación, el papel de la pared y la madera del piso, sin cuadros ni carteles de nada, solo una cama, un escritorio y un baño. "¿Vives aquí o me equivoco?"

"Si estamos hoy aquí es porque ha considerado que era el mejor servicio que puede tener, monsieur Wriothesley." Si un hombre deseaba sacar a relucir todos sus fetiches, incluidos los más raros y repugnantes, tendría que usar juguetes especiales que tenían en habitaciones especiales, y claro que un servicio más completo e ilimitado requería una mayor cantidad de mora en los bolsillos del gran señor que te mantenía. Ese no era el plan de Wriothesley, no estaba buscando diversión, no completamente. Wriothesley sonrió y entendió a lo que te referías, suspiró y siguió viendo a todos lados menos a ti en silencio, uno que te estaba atormentando. "¿Se ha estado sintiendo a gusto últimamente, monsieur?"

Preguntaste de manera en la que pretendías estar tranquila, no querías obligarlo a hacer nada y era mejor si era así, pero no entendías la necesidad de pagar por estar una noche con una prostituta y perder tiempo viendo una decoración mundana. Parecía que Wriothesley estaba de acuerdo con tus pensamientos, e incluso parecía que estaba a punto de decir algo pero se quedó aliado mirándote una vez más, otra vez con molestia. "¿Te gusta mucho ese conjunto?"

Es asqueroso, repulsivo, asfixiante y desabrido, querías decirlo pero sabías que no le importaría, reír un poco te ayudaría a sacar el aire que se mantenía incómodo dentro de tus pulmones. "¿No es de su gusto?" Wriothesley sonrió mirándote a los ojos, su mirada iluminada por el sucio rojo de la habitación se notaba cálida a pesar del ardor de todos los colores chillones de la sala.

"Preferiría algo negro en ti, ¿Es de tu gusto?" Wriothesley se levantó por fin de su silla, acercándose a ti con pasos tranquilos y tomando tu mentón para inspeccionar bien tu rostro, soltando ruidos de satisfacción mientras analizaba tus labios y tus mejillas. "Si me lo permitieras podría llenar tu vida de otros colores que no sean este. Violeta, rosa, blanco o negro, si me lo pidieras todo sería tuyo." Su toque era delicado, tanto que te hipnotizó y por un momento olvidaste todo, hechizada por sus palabras. Tal vez eran mentira pero entre cada palabra que caía de su lengua s tus oídos te calentaba el corazón. "No estarías obligada a vestir de esta manera, no te pediría que hagas esto tampoco. Serías una reina a mi lado, mi reina."

"Lo que usted quiere es una esposa trofeo, monsieur." Wriothesley soltó una risa mientras te dejaba caer en la cama, una mano debajo de tu cabeza para que no te lastimarse, otra mano en el colchón para no dejar caer todo su peso sobre ti.

"No, lo que yo quiero eres tú." Te besó, pero a diferencia de besos anteriores que has experimentado no hubo lengua que incomode tu boca, no hubo dientes que choquen con tus labios, solo besos tranquilos y deliciosos, lentos y sensuales que te hacían perseguir sus labios por más. Tus manos lo sostuvieron por sus hombros para que no se aleje, queriendo sentir más del cariñoso acto que te quitaba el aliento con cada caricia en tus labios. "¿Puedo...?"

¿Qué clase de tonterías estaba diciendo este hombre? Que compra a una prostituta y le pide permiso para hacer lo que quería hacer cuando pagó. Aturdida por la frustración, solo asentiste y dejaste que te quitara la ropa, él aún tenía el ceño fruncido y era delicado en sus acciones, quitando tu blusa transparente y revelando tus senos, dándoles una caricia y un beso lento antes de quitar tus medias por el elástico, deslizándolas por tus piernas con cuidado y sosteniendo tus piernas a los lados de su cadera. Cuando quisiste moverte para tomar la botella de lubricante de la mesa al lado de la cama, la mano de Wriothesley te detuvo y besó tu mano.

"Tranquila, yo me encargo de esto." El hombre seguía vestido, lo que te mantenía indefensa ante él, sin contar que sus manos empezaron a delinear tu figura, tus brazos, tu cintura, se estaba esforzando para memorizar tu forma bajo sus manos ásperas y con cicatrices. Sus dedos tomaron tus pezones y jugaron con tus botones con sus pulgares, dando vueltas a sus circunferencias y apretando ligeramente la carne delicada, arrancándote suspiros.

"Si algo no te gusta podemos detenernos." Te miró con cariño, ahora sin molestia en tus ojos, mientras estiraba la tela de tu braga. Asentiste nuevamente, ahora con un murmullo suspirado, y pareció que el ego de Wriothesley creció en ese momento. Te quitó la molesta tela revelando tu intimidad desvergonzada, por extraño que parezca te sentiste demaciado expuesta ante él, pero todo se fue al diablo cuando una de las manos de Wriothesley pasó de tu seno a tus pliegues y pasó delicadamente por tu raja hasta tu clítoris, masajeando los botones de carne con ambas manos en dos zonas distintas que te hicieron soltar un jadeo más alto. Su boca bajó desde tu mejilla hasta tu vientre, dejando tus piernas cómodamente en sus hombros, repartiendo besos como una cascada hasta tu intimidad dónde empezó a lamer y a arremolinar su lengua en ti.

Arañaste la sábana y arrugaste los dedos de los pies, jadeaste por la humedad nueva que estabas descubriendo con su lengua y sus labios besando tu intimidad con hambre, bebiendo todo el líquido que caía por su barbilla y que te enredaba el estómago en una sensación tan exquisita que no pudiste ignorar. Gruñiste el nombre de Wriothesley, lo abrazaste con tus muslos y él fue dichoso de sentir tu miel fluir como un río por su paladar, no se molestó en mojar la sábana de bajo de ti, nada importaba ahora.

"No te puedo pedir que seas mía ahora, pero por favor dame la oportunidad." Amó cada parte de ti, como respirabas con dificultad, tus piernas temblando y deseando más, adoró cuando lo miraste a través de tus pestañas húmedas por tus lágrimas y sonreíste. Ibas a caer, si tenía que ser una ilusión rezabas que fuera eterna, que nunca te rompa el corazón con una verdad amarga si todos los días tendrías algo como esto. Tal vez es amor, pensaste, así se debe sentir estar enamorado, una inmensa felicidad y tranquilidad.

Había pedido permiso y se lo concediste, lo dejaste introducir su polla dura entre tus pliegues, ambos jadearon al sentirse completos, Wriothesley premió tu tranquilidad con más besos dulces y se tomó su tiempo para hacerte el amor entre suspiros y anhelos.

Mientras sus bolas casi entraban profundamente en ti a un ritmo lento pero rudo, los gruñidos del hombre besaban la piel expuesta de tu hombro y mordía delicadamente. Trataba de no hacerte daño mientras te sostenía la cintura con delicadeza, haciendo rodar tu clítoris en sus dedos y meciéndote contra su falo. Wriothesley besó tu clavícula a través de las manchas que dejaban sus labios, chupaba tu piel salada y mojada mientras susurraba frases inentendibles por la dicha de unirse a ti.

La vida no debía ser difícil, no debe estar llena de baches, fluye como el agua de una fuente. Tus noches no deberían pasar entre lágrimas y maldiciones, no deberían tratarte como una pieza en un tablero, sin importancia, destinada a ser abusada y manchada por otros. Estabas destinada a ser amada y mimada, a los ojos de Wriothesley, estabas destinada a vivir una vida honrada y feliz, sonreír todos los días de tu vida y cada noche dejarlo hacerte el amor de manera lenta, empalarte en su polla mientras soltaba más susurros de amor y adoración a ti.

Lo raro no acabó, el cariño no acabó. Cuando ambos estaban saciados por el nuevo tipo de placer que habían encontrado en el otro, no se separaron, él no se vistió y se fue luego de recordarte que fuiste la más hermosa de todas. Wriothesley se preocupó por ti, te ayudó a limpiarte y se quedó a tu lado en la cama, el silencio fue agonizante al inicio pues no sabías qué hacer hasta que empezaste a dormir en su pecho, arrullada por el respirar del hombre y sus brazos que te mantenía caliente. Lloraste una vez más, en silencio, por la felicidad que creías que sería pasajera.

Desde esa noche, todas las mañanas te alegras de despertar perezosamente en los brazos del duque que no te quiere soltar, pasas tus días a su lado vistiendo de los colores del arcoiris pero no el color del infierno, con un anillo con una piedra oscura en tu dedo. Un establecimiento clausurado, una oportunidad junto a Wriothesley y al final tu libertad estaba frente a ti. La libertad que había buscado tu padre, la que había buscado tu madre y la que no pudo encontrar tu yo más joven, ahora resplandecía frente a ti en la figura mortal de un hombre.

English:

Life is difficult, it is full of potholes and it does not flow like water from a fountain. Those were the words your parents repeated to you every day as if it were a divine mantra. Life was about working to not die, doing whatever it took to eat a piece of bread, to ensure that the girl they were raising would not die of hunger or cold. They worked day and night, mending clothes and blankets, shoes and old furniture, everything had to do its job even if it was no longer useful, the clock was a living dead that your father always tried to repair with some rusty tools and the light of a candle that had almost no wax, but always rang on time.

Life was difficult, it was about working to get gas and be able to boil water to make soup, it was about bathing in ice water in the morning and working all day to fall exhausted on a sad mattress on the floor. You learned that from your parents from a young age and you understood, that cold night when a rusty mallet opened your father's skull out of frustration, that his words were very wise. You understood, the day your mother died due to illness and without the availability of medicine, that life was as cold as the water with which you washed your face in the morning, as hard as the floor on which you slept for several nights, you understood that you had to get out of there somehow.

You learned many things in your life, that if you washed your face before going out to sell newspapers you would have a few extra coins, that if you preferred to wear a sleeveless blouse you would have more attention and that could help you eat more than a loaf of stale bread. You understood that by being attractive you could save yourself when a man took you to work in something more "suitable."

Pure shit. A building with extravagant lights and translucent curtains, a luxurious prison where you have been an inmate since you were a teenager. You couldn't complain, you were supposed to, you had a soft bed and food, a roof that wouldn't let the rain or sun make you sick, you had a decent room and bathroom for the first time in your life, and the clothes you wore, even though they were uncomfortable, fitted and luxurious, it was clothing and it was appreciated. For someone who didn't have any of that, it was a blessing that you paid for with a dirty job.

You danced, you sang, you learned to talk and smile even if you were uncomfortable, you learned not to remove the hands that made you tremble with fear, you learned not to scream in pain or fear when they used you as if you were a vulgar hole or a pretty doll to taint.

You cried at the end of each encounter, you did not enjoy any of them, it was all pulls and bites of demons that ripped off your skin, the eyes of the monsters that slept under your bed wanting to take you to hell saw you as a piece of luxurious meat, ready to roast you with disgusting spices and eat you, and throw your bones against the plate so that someone else could clean the dining room where they sinned.

A new day, a shower with ice water and your hair tangled in the mirror, your damaged body was no longer what it used to be when you were preparing to sell newspapers on the dark streets, but a more mature and well-kept figure, exercise and the diet they regulated to keep you attractive combined with the hideous bruises on your legs and neck. You hated them, and you rushed to cover your body with a towel to continue crying one more morning.

Life was sad, cold and lonely. Life would treat you like a piece on a board, unimportant, destined to be abused and stained by others. Until he saved you.

Wriothesley, who smiles every time you call him. Wriothesley, whose eyes soften when he sees you. Wriothesley, who was not afraid to use his fortune to support you. Wriothesley, who saved you from that painted prison of luxurious sin, depression and misery.

The man who came to the place where you worked and was enchanted by your figure, who almost stopped a mission to see you a little more, to feel your gaze on him while you danced in such a vulgar outfit. Seeing through your seductive eyes and your capricious smile what little was left of a happy woman, who sought to cling to suggestion as the last true aspect of a personality destroyed by red lights and persuasive music.

That night he knew, he had to get you out of that place as soon as possible.

The feminine perfume felt like smoke in your lungs, but it was the right one for you, the red lipstick on your lips and the shadows carefully blended on your eyelids to make them look more beautiful were as expected from someone like you, who dressed scantily. Disgusting clothes and jewelry against your skin. A woman, a beautiful piece of meat that someone else would gobble up today.

The door opened for the dark-haired gentleman, the guard had guided him into the chamber of gloomy darkness. He walked in, received his congratulations from the disgusting man who looked at you with a disgusting smile and then closed the disgusting door again, leaving you defenseless against a hungry wolf. You smiled, regaining some of the confidence you were supposed to have as the diva of this damn place.

"Good night, monsieur..." A low tone, like a whisper, pretty and charming, mixed with the caress you gave to your crossed legs. You knew who the man is, and precisely for that reason –and because otherwise you would be punished if you treated him badly– you were not allowed to be anything more than a charming bag for his semen. You were silently grateful that he wasn't an old man again, you were sick of proud geezers who called themselves men walking through the doors.

It was worrying at first, the gentleman did not take his eyes off you but he did not dedicate himself to staring at you, his eyes did not reflect his desire to tear off your vibrant red lingerie, but rather he seemed annoyed as he looked around. for the outfit you were wearing. You shivered, not used to when he looked back into your eyes and smiled sympathetically.

"The color doesn't suit you." He spoke as calmly as possible, taking a few steps until he attracted the chair that was on one side and leaving you far away, respecting your personal space when he sat down and looked at you again. "This place is very... small, it doesn't seem like a good room for you." His analytical eyes roamed the entire room, the wallpaper and the wood of the floor, no pictures or posters of anything, just a bed, a desk and a bathroom. "Do you live here or am I wrong?"

"If we are here today it is because you considered it to be the best service you could have, Monsieur Wriothesley." If a man wanted to bring out all his fetishes, including the strangest and most disgusting ones, he would have to use special toys that were kept in special rooms, and of course a more complete and unlimited service required a greater amount of mora in the pockets of the great lord that kept you. That wasn't Wriothesley's plan, he wasn't looking for fun, not entirely. Wriothesley smiled and understood what you meant, he sighed and continued looking everywhere except at you in silence, one that was tormenting you. "Has he been feeling at ease lately, monsieur?"

You asked in a way that meant you were calm, you didn't want to force him to do anything and it was better if that was the case, but you didn't understand the need to pay to spend a night with a prostitute and waste time looking at mundane decorations. It seemed like Wriothesley agreed with your thoughts, and it even seemed like he was about to say something but he just stood there looking at you once again, again with annoyance. "Do you really like that outfit?"

It's disgusting, repulsive, suffocating and tasteless, you wanted to say it but you knew he wouldn't care, laughing a little would help you get out the air that remained uncomfortable inside your lungs. "Isn't that to your taste?" Wriothesley smiled looking into your eyes, his gaze illuminated by the dirty red of the room felt warm despite the heat of all the bright colors in the room.

"I would prefer something black on you, is that to your taste?" Wriothesley finally got up from his chair, approaching you with calm steps and taking your chin to inspect your face well, letting out satisfied noises as he analyzed your lips and cheeks. "If you allowed me, I could fill your life with colors other than this one. Violet, pink, white or black, if you asked me, everything would be yours." His touch was delicate, so much so that he hypnotized you and for a moment you forgot everything, enchanted by his words. Maybe they were a lie but between every word that fell from his tongue your ears warmed your heart. "You wouldn't be forced to dress this way, I wouldn't ask you to do this either. You would be a queen by my side, my queen."

"What you want is a trophy wife, monsieur." Wriothesley let out a laugh as he dropped you onto the bed, one hand under your head so you wouldn't hurt yourself, another hand on the mattress so he wouldn't let his full weight fall on top of you.

"No, what I want is you." He kissed you, but unlike previous kisses you've experienced there was no tongue to bother your mouth, no teeth to collide with your lips, just calm and delicious kisses, slow and sensual that made you chase his lips for more. Your hands held him by his shoulders to keep him from moving away, wanting to feel more of the affectionate act that took your breath away with each caress on your lips. "Can I...?"

What kind of nonsense was this man talking? That he buys a prostitute and asks her permission to do what he wanted to do when he paid. Dazed with frustration, you just nodded and let him remove your clothes, he was still frowning and delicate in his actions, removing your sheer blouse and revealing your breasts, giving them a caress and a slow kiss before removing your stockings by the elastic, sliding them down your legs carefully and holding your legs to the sides of his hips. When you wanted to move to grab the bottle of lube from the table next to the bed, Wriothesley's hand stopped you and kissed your hand.

"Don't worry, I'll take care of this." The man was still dressed, which kept you defenseless before him, not to mention that his hands began to outline your figure, your arms, your waist, he was trying hard to memorize your shape under his rough and scarred hands. His fingers cupped your nipples and played with your buttons with his thumbs, circling their girths and lightly squeezing the delicate flesh, drawing sighs from you.

"If you don't like something we can stop." He looked at you lovingly, now with no discomfort in your eyes, as he stretched the fabric of your panties. You nodded again, now with a sighed murmur, and it seemed like Wriothesley's ego grew in that moment. He removed the annoying fabric revealing your shameless intimacy, strangely enough you felt too exposed to him, but everything went to hell when one of Wriothesley's hands moved from your breast to your folds and delicately passed along your slit to your clit, massaging the flesh buttons with both hands in two different areas that made you gasp louder. His mouth went down from your cheek to your belly, leaving your legs comfortably on his shoulders, spreading kisses like a waterfall to your intimacy where he began to lick and swirl his tongue in you.

You scratched the sheet and wrinkled your toes, you gasped at the new moisture that you were discovering with his tongue and his lips kissing your intimacy hungrily, drinking all the liquid that fell down his chin and that entangled your stomach in a sensation so exquisite that you couldn't ignore. You growled Wriothesley's name, you hugged him with your thighs and he was happy to feel your honey flow like a river through his palate, he didn't bother to wet the sheet under you, nothing mattered now.

"I can't ask you to be mine now, but please give me the chance." He loved every part of you, how you were breathing hard, your legs shaking and wanting more, he loved when you looked at him through your eyelashes wet with your tears and smiled. You were going to fall, if it had to be an illusion you prayed that it would be eternal, that it would never break your heart with a bitter truth if every day you would have something like this. Maybe it's love, you thought, this is what being in love must feel like, immense happiness and tranquility.

He had asked for permission and you granted it, you let him insert his hard cock between your folds, you both gasped as you felt complete, Wriothesley rewarded your tranquility with more sweet kisses and took his time making love to you between sighs and longings.

As his balls nearly entered you deep at a slow but rough pace, the man's grunts kissed the exposed skin of your shoulder and bit gently. He tried not to hurt you as he gently held your waist, rolling your clit on his fingers and rocking you against his phallus. Wriothesley kissed your collarbone through the stains left by his lips, he sucked on your salty and wet skin while he whispered incomprehensible phrases for the joy of joining you.

Life should not be difficult, it should not be full of potholes, it flows like water from a fountain. Your nights should not be spent in tears and curses, you should not be treated like a piece on a board, unimportant, destined to be abused and stained by others. You were destined to be loved and pampered, in Wriothesley's eyes, you were destined to live an honest and happy life, smile every day of your life and every night let him make love to you slowly, impale you on his cock while he let out more whispers of love and adoration of you.

The strangeness didn't end, the affection didn't end. When you were both satiated by the new kind of pleasure you had found in each other, you didn't separate, he didn't get dressed and left after reminding you that you were the most beautiful of all girls in that night. Wriothesley worried about you, he helped you clean yourself and stayed next to you in bed, the silence was agonizing at first because you didn't know what to do until you began to sleep on his chest, lulled by the man's breathing and his arms that held you. kept you warm. You cried once again, silently, for the happiness that you thought would be temporary.

Since that night, every morning you are happy to wake up lazily in the arms of the duke who does not want to let you go, you spend your days at his side wearing the colors of the rainbow but not the color of hell, with a ring with a dark stone in your finger. A closed establishment, an opportunity with Wriothesley and in the end your freedom was in front of you. The freedom that your father had sought, that your mother had sought, and that your younger self could not find, now shone before you in the mortal form of a man.

I cook something this week for yuri enjoyer 🐤

bathtime

☆ ─ give me your attention . . !

jealous!kazuha x gn!reader ♡ / flufffy fluff <3 / modern au

note ; inspired by this c.ai bot :3, also this post doesn't show on tags, i am so sad :(

synopsis ─ the both of you had agreed on adopting a little kitten. so, why was kazuha glaring at it all the time ..?

kazuha had been waiting patiently in bed for you to come and give him much cuddles and kisses for the day, but it seems like something else had caught your attention.

it was the little kitten you guys had adopted a few days ago. you and kazuha were both quite fond of cats and kittens, so it wouldn't be a bad idea to adopt one right ..? well thats just what kazuha had thought. now he has been shooting daggers to that innocent little kitten that has been stealing your attention from him for the past hours.

you were too focused on entertaining the kitten to even spare kazuha a single glance. kazuha doesn't understand why that small creature needs that much attention anyways, surely someone like him is more worthy of your precious attention right?

"my love, its getting quite late isn't it? maybe you should come back to bed and get some rest, hm?" kazuha innocently says with his soft sweet voice, acting as if he wasn't about to explode just a few seconds ago.

"in a bit okay? her fur is just so soft and fluffy ugh!!" you continued to play with the kittens fur, softly caressing and petting it. meanwhile kazuha is getting more and more frustrated by every second, he has soft and fluffy hair too .. so why dont you caress and pat his head instead? :((

hs figured that maybe glaring at the cat won't do anything to stop you since you wont even notice him in the first place, he gave up and decided to sleep without you.

but he can't even do that cause he could never fall asleep without you in his arms, especially when your attention that he was supposed to be having is getting taken away by a small creature :(

after a while, the kitten was also getting a bit tired and sleepy. that was probably your sign to head back to bed and remember that your boyfriend is all lonely and sad without you!

you layed next to kazuha in the empty space of the bed, he was facing the wall which was quite unsual while scrolling through social media on his phone.

"zuha i thought you were asleep already!" yeah right, as if he could fall asleep without you. he didn't respond though, which had left you confused. or maybe he didn't hear you?

"zuhaaa!" you shook his shoulder lightly, looking for his attention. but he still didn't budge, is he giving you the silent treatment?

"kazuha whats wrong? i thought you wanted me to come back to bed earlier .. now you're just ignoring me!"

"well maybe because you were also ignoring me because of that .. that stupid kitten!" he was now pouting like a little child, but it just seemed adorable to you ...

"but im here now .." you can start to see where this was going, but you wanted to tease him a bit further because he just seemed so adorable like that.

"yeah, but thats only because the kitten was getting tired and sleepy am i right? am i your second choice now? hmph .." he finally decided to face you, now you could see his adorable pout more clearly.

"so you're saying that you're jealous because i was giving the kitten more attention?"

"..."

"hm?"

"yes i am, so can you please just come closer already?" his face was getting flustered by every second, but he was sure to make his feelings clear.

you can't help but chuckle at his actions, you snuggled next to him and it seems like all his problems has gone away. his sweet and adorable smile could finally be seen again.

"awww .. im sorry i was neglecting you earlier .. ill promise to give you more and more attention from now on!" <3

"what a wise decision that is, i like it."