So what would you say are some of Ren's kinks? Btw I've played the demo like 6 times and it's AWESOME. - 🌸
I've answered a similar question to this on CuriousCat before (link here), but Ren's main kinks are:
♡ breeding kink
♡ edging/orgasm control
♡ praise kink (giving & receiving)
♡ biting/marking (more-so because he likes claiming you and seeing proof)
♡ Roleplay
He's also down to try out any of your kinks as well — so long as it's safe, consensual, and explicitly discussed beforehand!
If ANY of yall EVER do this shit to me, im deleting every single fic out of spite.
If I ever catch one of yall doing this to another author and I know youre a follower of my work I will block you personally on every platform
None of yall are the fic police. I DESPISE genai. I think its an insult to art, humanity, and the planet itself. But aint not a single fucking person here qualified to pick apart a strangers fic looking for a gotcha moment to make yourselves feel superior. If you think something is ai you can ask the author (most are proud of the ai use and will just tell you straight up) if they say yes you have your answer and can warn people. If they say no and you dont believe them you block and quietly keep it between you and maybe a close group of friends. Spreading misinformation is DANGEROUS. And NONE of you doing this shit are anywhere near qualified to do it.
Posting this here from my main too bc I feel that strongly about it
You dont get to witch hunt and scour peoples work just frothing at the mouth hoping someone messes up so you can publicly humiliate and gang up on them. Fuck genai and every single poser and lover that uses it but if you are not 1000000000% certain that something is made with it you shut. the. fuck. up.
I'm about to get mean because this shit? this pisses me all the way off.
"hurr durr these very common writing practices are SUPER OBVIOUS AI TELLS!!!!!!!!!! obviously this is an AI invention and not the result of AI being trained on THOUSANDS OF REAL FUCKING STORIES!!!!!!! we're all very intelligent!!!!!!!"
I hate yall. I hate yall for fucking ruining fanfic with your goddamn motherfucking AI obsession. "ooh there's em dashes!" YEAH REAL WRITERS USE THOSE. "there's long paragraphs!" YEAH BECAUSE THATS HOW PEOPLE WRITE STORIES.
we're not "writing like AI" - AI is writing like us, because it fucking stole from us in the first fucking place.
I've never used AI in my work, not ever, but guess what, my fics are ALL written like that. long paragraphs, long sentences, em dashes and hyphens and other grammatical tools, because I fucking know HOW TO WRITE.
quite frankly, if you think these things are "genAI inventions" you're just telling the world that YOU DON'T READ ENOUGH.
You'll have to calculate his sun, moon, and rising signs yourself though, since his birth year differs depending on your age (He's canonically one year younger than you — unless you're 18, then he's 18 as well lmao — and was born on February 14th at 2:14AM)
bro omg I've had this in drafts for long- hope it's good lol-
~~
NSFW! w1wd scenarios/hcs, Daniil x F!reader:
how would he react and act when your breasts start producing milk(bonus: damnya as a father):
warning: minors, this is not for you. sexual content, smut/lemon whatever you name it.(kill me, idk how to put proper warnings lmao, tho this should be clear-)
★ the day you started producing milk, just a short while-days-after giving birth, from your breasts daniel did not miss that moment, and he was even over joyed like his baby that he held in his arms.
★ your breasts were swollen, sensitive and tender, when your breasts felt heavy and full, your poor sensitive nipples dripping soaking your shirt, guess who was there to relieve it—when the baby was full, taking a nap of course—.. Daniel!
★ he'd massage them gently with his large hands, never letting that milk go to waste, he'd rest ontop of you, balancing his weight on his elbows and work softly on your tender breasts, sucking on your nipples relieving some of that pressure...
★ he stores bottles of your breast milk in the fridge
★ when he puts the baby to sleep, he'd come to you, both of you exhausted, you lift the blanket tapping gently the spot next to you and he'll immediately kick his shoes and cuddle with you....
★ Daniel wouldn't fuck you after birth... but that doesn't mean he'll hold back, he'll still either hump your thighs or ass or even ask for a handjob...
"gosh... you look so hot as a mom my dear..." he grunts in your ear, your soft thighs squeeze his length as he thrusts fast, spilling cum on your still-swollen tummy with a low growl...♡
★ "feeding our baby my little cow..?" he cooes sometimes when you're breastfeeding your baby, he just watches in amusement, maybe even sometimes he'd nudge your arm trying to get the second breast to himself.. but the baby is defensive over his food and uses a smoll leg to push danya's face away >:3333
and Daniel? he'd actually get sad sometimes..-
★ if you ever felt too overwhelmed/stressed/over stimulated, he'd take the baby give you a little space while having some fun quality time with his newborn child. he does understand that this can be stressing at times.
★ you'd catch yourself smiling at him when hes holding your baby with all love and care, when he sees that smile his cheeks slightly flush bright red and he mirrors your smile.
★ feeling insecure about your body after birth? no worries princess, he got you, if he sees you crying in front of a mirror while checking the stretch marks on your body, he'd actually kneel behind you, hands resting on your hips as he reaches and peppering kisses on every part of your body that you hate murmuring sweet nothings to you with each kiss.
"how can you hate this gorgeous strong body that carried our child hmm?..." his hands roaming on your sides and belly, his tone is worshipping as he looks up at you, his jeans now suddenly feeling tight...(bro is starvin 🙏)
SYNOPSIS. You finally decide to take Whitney on a proper date. Of course, as all things with Whitney do, it evolves into something more. WC. 4.9k
CONTENT. SubBot!Whitney, DomTop!Reader, amab reader, implied taller reader, pre-established relationship, smoking, soft sex, dacryphilia, praise (char. receiving), Whitney has tongue and nipple piercings, unprotected sex, anal, fingering, spit as lube, oral (char. receiving), overstimulation, cum eating, exhibitionism? (yall do it with the window open, but i was picturing it as a screened window that just led to a backyard so)
AUTHOR’S NOTE. This was definitely an excuse to write sub Whit. I fucking love a Whitney that’s a loser for his boyfriend, if you couldn’t tell. Might be ooc Whit. Partially inspired by @hellsslibrary ‘s headcanons. Please be merciful if this is bad, as I’ve never written smut and I haven’t written fanfic in a while. Also I’m acearo and a virgin, so we’ll see how this goes. I may end up writing a hard dom reader in the future, but for now take soft dom reader. I wrote the majority of this whilst listening to Mitski. Constructive criticism and tips are very much accepted and appreciated!
If you choose to click ‘Keep Reading’, you are consenting to reading smut.
Yeah, this date was probably the smartest idea you’ve had in a while. Or Sydney had.
Because now you were cuddling a soft Whitney after sex.
Pretty nice, ain’t it?
Let’s go back to when this started. You were in the library with Sydney, absentmindedly picking up books and admiring the cover or reading the synopsis. “Syd, do you know of any good date spots? I feel like Whit and I haven’t gone on a proper date in a while.”
Sydney probably wasn’t the best person to ask this, considering the fact that you’re pretty sure he’s never been on a date. But you guys were close friends, so who else were you supposed to ask?
“I mean, if I were to go on a date, we would probably go for a walk near the temple-“ he started.
“No temple.”
“Fine. No temple. Uhm, you could go to the park-“
“We have been to the park. Many times.”
“Right, I forgot about that,” he said, recalling some of the tales of your… escapades with Whitney in the park. “Uhm, the arcade?”
“…We have an arcade?”
“Yeah…?”
“Okay, thanks so so much Syd. You’re a lifesaver,” you said, beginning to walk away. You then realized something and turned back around. “Where exactly is the arcade?”
He laughed a little. “I’ll send you the address.”
Your shoes squeaked against the hallway tile as you walked. Entering the cafeteria, you took in the many lunch tables. “Where the fuck is Whitney?” you mumbled to yourself. Which was reasonable, considering the fact that you saw Whitney’s friends, the ones you so despised, but not Whitney himself. You needed to talk to him about that date idea Syd had given you yesterday. Now that you thought about it, you didn’t see him in math class either. Sometimes you feel like pulling a Kylar and putting a tracker on Whitney. Once again, reasonable considering you never seemed to know where he was. Maybe he was skipping school, but wouldn’t his friends be with him? You got out your phone to text the blonde. Strange. You had one unread message from him, sent this morning.
“There you are, slut,” someone said, grabbing your wrist. You slipped your phone into your pocket and let the person lead you. Of course, you knew immediately who that someone was, considering their voice and choice of a vulgar nickname.
“Hello to you, too, Whitney,” you responded. You didn’t question where he was dragging you, much to his surprise. Instead, you decided to inquire about something else. “Where have you been?”
“Don’t worry about that,” he grumbled. Did you always look this pretty? Why did you always worry about him?
“Where are we going?”
“Shut up, slut.” Nevermind. You asked too many questions.
“Okay, fine.”
Whitney pushed you into the bathroom and locked the door. It’s clear that his actions are fueled by lust. He pressed you against the wall with his own body. He’s been thinking about this, about you since this morning. “Did you not see what I texted you?” he asked, seething with both anger and desire.
“No? I actually try to pay attention in class,” you said, rolling your eyes. Whitney often found himself hating that you actually tried in school, because that’s more time you spend in the library and less with him.
“Whatever, slut,” Whitney said, then he pulled you down and pressed his lips to yours. Finally, he got what he was waiting for. The kiss was rough, deep, desperate. You wrapped an arm around his waist, whilst your other hand traced up and down his spine. You were always so gentle and rough at the same time. He wasn’t usually this needy for you, but sometimes Whitney’s mind got the better of him.
The blonde continued pressing up against you and you continued kissing him. One of your hands trailed from Whitney’s back to his jaw. You tilted his head up to make this a little easier for yourself. In turn, the kiss grew more forceful. Your hand on his jaw moved behind his head, gripping on his hair roughly. He groaned in response to your treatment. Fuck, why did you always do this to him?
You bit down not-so-gently on his bottom lip. The oh-so-scary Whitney let out a goddamn low whine and opened his mouth. You pushed your tongue into his mouth, forcing his jaw to open wider. His own tongue slid into your mouth, the cold metal of his tongue piercing brushing over your tongue. The blonde could taste something saccharine on your tongue, a taste that was so distinctly you. Whitney could feel himself losing any train of thought. He hated that you always knew how to make his head feel fuzzy and his body feel warm. He started leaning on you, relying on you for support.
You broke the kiss, only to ask,“Was this what that text was about?” You were seriously choosing now of all times to start talking to him? “Hurry up, slut,” Whitney muttered as he grabbed onto your hair, making you moan. You pulled the blonde’s head back by his hair and latched onto his jaw. You made your way down his jaw and neck, sucking hard, just how he liked it. He was sure his neck would be purple tomorrow, if not just later. You licked over a certain spot, your teeth grazing over it. He whined again (how did you always know how to make him whine?) and just as you were about to bite down…
The bell rang. You rolled your eyes, obviously annoyed, and pulled back.
“Keep going, slut,” Whitney grumbled, looking up at you and glaring. Since when did you stop because of the bell? It wouldn’t be the first time you both had gotten in trouble for skipping class to fuck.
“I’d rather not get detention, considering the fact that we have plans after school,” you responded. Plans?
“The fuck do you mean we ‘have plans’?”
“I’m taking you on an actual date, for once. To the arcade.”
“…Why?”
“When was the last time we went on an actual date?“
“…Fine.” Whitney hated to admit it, but you had a point. It had been a while since your last date. And, he could use this as an excuse to get you to come home with him and finish where you left off…
“Okay, baby. Love you.” You always insisted on being so affectionate, not that he minded.
“Shut up, slut,” Whitney muttered, “Love you too.” He could feel a hint of red in his cheeks. His body was betraying him at the worst possible moment right now.
You laughed. Fuck, your smile was gorgeous. Did your voice always sound that good? Maybe he was going insane. “See you after class, Whit,” you said, pressing a quick kiss to his forehead and walking away. He let you leave. He couldn’t help but look forward to tonight.
Jesus fucking Christ, Whitney hated it here. As soon as the final bell rang, he was out of class. He could see you chatting with Sydney as you walked out of the doors. Little did he know that you were really just trying to keep your eye out for a certain blonde that you so adored.
Sydney wished you goodbye as he started walking away, probably to the temple. You were still looking for Whitney.
“Hey slut.” You seemed caught off guard by the sudden appearance of the person you were looking for. You intertwined your hand with his. “Hey, Whit.” You pressed a kiss to his forehead for the second time today. Whitney could pretend he hated how soft you were with him, but you could always make him melt. Sure , he liked when you were rough too, but with your gentle kisses and your reverent way of touching him and the pleasant nights you spent together… God, his thoughts were trailing again. He could feel himself turning red.
“What are you thinking about, Whit? You’re blushing a lot,” you said smugly, pulling Whitney out of his thoughts. Fuck you and his perceptiveness. You were unfairly good at reading him.
“Shut up, slut. Are we going or not?” the blonde said, attempting to change the subject. Anything to get you to stop talking about him. Otherwise, Whitney might end up begging on his knees for you to fuck him. And he did not beg.
“Okay, okay.” Whitney watched you take out your phone. Your background was a photo you took of you and him, back when you had first started dating. You had managed to get him to begrudgingly do a hand heart with you and you were so proud of that moment that you made it your wallpaper. As much as Whitney didn’t want to admit it, he liked that photo.
You opened your messages with Sydney and plugged the address that he gave you into your maps. He felt you tug his hand and you both started walking in the direction of the arcade.
“It really has been forever since we went on an actual date,” you said, sounding rather excited. Whitney could tell that even if you sounded eager, you were just trying to occupy the silence. If he was being honest, and as much as he did like your voice, he was content to just admire you, to trace your features with his eyes, and to think about everything you could do to him… Fuck, his thoughts were trailing again.
“Yeah, it has,” Whitney said in response, sounding completely out of it. Probably because he was.
“You feeling okay? You’ve been zoning out a lot.” You sounded concerned. You were always worrying about him, caring for him. God, even in the bedroom, you were so… sweet. He was blushing again. You really had made your way into his heart. You had the first day you both met.
“I’m feeling fine, M/N.”
“Hm, you didn’t call me ‘slut’ for once.”
Whitney smiled a little. “Don’t think too much of it, slut.”
You smiled in turn and said. “You’re so pretty when you smile genuinely.”
The arcade was a short walk from the school, probably to attract students who just got off. You don’t know how you didn’t know about it. Your steps transitioned from loud to almost silent as you went from the dull sidewalk to the colorful carpet of the arcade. There were people everywhere and screens flashing with various game titles. It was filled with the buzz of laughter and noise from various machines. You looked at Whitney, meeting his eyes. “Where do you want to start?”
“Hm…” He smirked and dragged you to one of those two-person shooter games. “Here.”
“Alright!”
You both sat down in the seats provided for the game and you slid some money in the machine. While the beginning cutscene played and you watched, Whitney was staring at you. He knew you liked these sorts of games and he liked how focused you got during them. The light from the screen highlighted your facial features and the grin on your face.
As the actual game started, you immediately delved right in and started shooting the black tar monsters. Whitney snapped out his trance and started playing too. You both easily passed through the first few rounds of the game. There were points where you had to revive each other, but you both were having fun. When you both had finally died without being able to revive, you had accumulated a ton of tickets.
Whitney wasn’t focused on that, though. The look of joy and determination on your face was his entertainment right now. He loved how you looked when you were focused. After the game, you looked at Whitney with an emotion in your eyes that could only be called adoration. “You lead the way, Whit.”
By the time you both were done, you'd played almost every game in the arcade. Right now, Whitney was watching you as you concentrated on a claw machine. You were trying to line up the claw perfectly to win Whitney a teddy bear. Of course, you knew of his collection of plushies, so you were determined to win this for him.
Whitney, of course, was more preoccupied with looking at you. For the millionth time today, he thought about your face now and compared it to the way you acted in the bedroom. He loved when you focused solely upon him, when you fixated upon pleasuring him. The way your eyes and hands and mouth ran over him… You were probably the best lover he’d ever known, with the way you treated him. He was far from ready to admit that, though.
Your laugh brought the blonde out of his thoughts. Whitney watched as you bent down—he hardly resisted the urge to slap your ass—and excitedly grabbed the teddy bear you had been trying so hard to get for him. You handed it to him triumphantly, saying,“For you, baby.” You pressed a kiss to his forehead, then his nose, then to his mouth. He, shockingly, let you get through all three before (lightly) shoving you off him.
“Thanks, slut,” he muttered. He was blushing and clutching onto the teddy bear tightly.
“So, what are you thinking we do with the tickets?” you said, grinning at his flustered expression.
You ended up buying another plushie for Whitney and some candy with the tickets you both collected. He was laying his head in your lap as you sat in Whit’s bed and passed back and forth a cigarette. Whitney was holding onto the teddy bear you won him. The sun was starting to set outside and casted a golden glow on the room, making it look like the confession scene of an 80s romcom. The first wisps of the cool night air passed through the open window.
Whitney could feel you gently trace the line of his jaw as he breathed in smoke from his cigarette. He tilted his head toward your touch. You were looking at him with that look in your eyes again, the one he had seen many times before. That look of pure love. You were the only one to ever look at him that way. As much as Whitney loved your affection, he didn’t know how he deserved it.
The blonde breathed the smoke out, and clumsily sat up in your lap whilst still holding the bear. He straddled your lap, each of his legs bordering your hips. The golden rays of sunlight hit your features perfectly and reflected in your eyes, which met his. Although the room was silent, a thousand words were spoken in that moment.
Whitney brought the cigarette to your lips. You closed your eyes and breathed in deeply as you continued to trace his face. Whitney pulled the cigarette away from your face as you exhaled. The smoke framed your head like a halo. It was almost ironic, because, in Whitney’s eyes, you were simultaneously so close and so far from being an angel. You were compassionate and affectionate, but you could be downright sinful with your gentle hands and honeyed kisses.
Whitney inhaled from the cigarette again. This time, before exhaling, he connected your lips. He breathed the smoke into your mouth. You pulled back and breathed out.
Whitney extinguished the cigarette, before reconnecting your lips. You kissed him back with a certain reverence. Earlier, your kisses were quick and rough. Now, they were sensual and tender.
You cradled his face in one hand, whilst the other rested on his hip. Whitney leaned into the gentle caress of your hand as he continued kissing you slowly.
You broke the kiss with a soft smile. “Relax your jaw for me, yeah?” you had asked in that fucking enticing tone of yours that always compelled him to listen.
After he nodded, you kissed Whitney again, and he did as you asked of him. You pushed your tongue past his soft lips and traced the inside of his mouth with it. Whitney let out a soft groan as he sucked on your tongue. You tasted like the tobacco of the cigarette you had just smoked.
You pulled back from his lips, causing the blonde to let out a soft whine. “It’s alright, Whit,” you whispered reassuringly, as you started pressing soft kisses to his neck that was already littered with bruises from earlier. Whitney tilted his head up so you could have better access. Your mouth caressed his skin continuously, occasionally nibbling or licking him a little. Your persistence caused the blonde to let out soft moans of pleasure, which got a little louder when you bit down a little harder.
Your hands moved to the buttons of Whit’s shirt. You asked, once again in that soft tone of yours,“Do you want to go further?”
Whitney nodded his head, muttering a soft ‘yes.’ His brain was a little too fuzzy to focus on words right now. He still held on to the teddy bear you won him, fidgeting with its fur as you unbuttoned his shirt.
As soon as you undid the last button, you slipped the shirt off him. “You’re always so pretty, Whit.” Whitney blushed at your shameless admiration of his body. You looked at him like an angel fallen to earth.
You flipped your positions, making Whitney lie down on the bed with you over him. His body hit the mattress with a silent ‘umph’. You resumed pressing kisses to his body, this time to his torso. Your mouth ran over his collarbone, before moving down to his chest.
Your tongue flicked over the cold metal piercing in one of his nipples, whilst your hand came up to play with the other one. He moaned and shivered at the just feeling of your touch, the sensation going straight to his dick. Fuck, his head was spinning and you had hardly don’t anything.
Whitney arched his back up into your stimulation of his chest. You switched, sucking on the other bud whilst you rolled the one you were sucking on between your index finger and thumb. “More…!” Whitney moaned. He was pretty sure you knew his body better than he did, as you knew how to pleasure every sensitive spot that made him so vocal.
After you were sure you had given each of his tits equal attention, you pulled off. Whitney tried to seem angry at you, but he just ended up whining instead.
“Mm, it’s okay, Whit. I’m gonna take care of you.” Whitney looked up at you, meeting your eyes. You looked at him softly, like he meant the world to you.
You slipped off your shirt, throwing it somewhere behind you. Whitney traced a hand over your torso, the other still clutching the bear, as you made him spread his legs a bit wider. He let out a low moan when you gripped his thighs and slipped one of your legs against his crotch.
Your hands moved to the waistband of his pants, and your fingers traced the line where skin met fabric. “Hurry up, slut…” he muttered, but there was no malice behind it.
“Alright,” you whispered against the skin of his neck, causing him to shudder against you. “You’re planning on holding onto the bear?”
Whitney silently nodded his head, too embarrassed to admit it out loud.
“Okay, baby.” You unbuttoned and unzipped his pants, slipping them off his legs. You thumbed at the edge of his boxers and cupped his dick through it, causing Whit to whine. Why were you choosing now of all times to be unfair? You laughed a little at his whine, biting down gently on the junction between his neck and shoulder whilst massaging his tip through his boxers. “Agh- please…” Whitney moaned. He then blushed, realizing he was practically begging for your affection. He attempted to hid his face in the bear his was still holding.
“Patience, Whit,” you said, but proceeded to contradict yourself and gave him what he wished for anyway. You slipped your fingers under the waistband of his boxers, pulling them down all the way. His dick slapped against his stomach, already dripping pearlescent precum.
“You never fail to take my breath away, baby.” You and your dulcet words often left Whitney desperate and wanting. With the way you looked at him, one could have sworn the blonde had hung the stars by hand.
You slipped off the rest of your own clothing as quickly as you could, revealing your own hard cock. Once completely stripped, you caressed both of Whitney’s thighs and brought his legs to wrap around your waist. Your gentle touch had him feel like he was floating.
Your fingers traced up Whitney’s dick, collecting beads of precum that had dripped down. “P-please! need you…” he moaned, clutching on tightly to the teddy bear. Whitney’s usual facade slipped only a little when he was with you normally, but during sex, you stripped him down with your persistent hands and unwavering gaze.
“I know, Whit, I’ve got you.” You brought your fingers, which were lightly coated in Whitney’s own fluids, to his mouth. He parted his lips, allowing you to push two of your fingers in. The blonde whimpered at his own salty taste and the inherent intimacy of consuming his precum from your fingers. He sucked on them, swirling his tongue as you scissored the digits in his mouth. He looked at you wordlessly, but you knew him well enough to tell he was begging for more.
You pushed a third finger in his mouth, thrusting in and out. Once you determined that your fingers were wet enough, you removed them from Whitney’s lips. You brought the digits back down to his pelvis, grazing his flushed tip teasingly, before bringing them to his ass.
“Please…” Whitney muttered. He looked up at you with desperation in his gaze in an attempt to get you to conform to his whims.
“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you,” you whispered. Two of your fingers breached the tight ring of muscles, aided by Whitney’s saliva, and began to stretch him out. You thrusted the digits in and out him, scissoring occasionally.
This contributed to the loss of Whitney’s already slipping control, as he was already having trouble forming coherent thoughts. He attempted to bite back a moan when he felt you slip a third finger in him.
“Taking it so well, hm? I wanna hear you. You’ve been so good for me so far, you’ll get something better soon, Whit,” you said, your voice a bit gruff with arousal. You continued thrusting your fingers into Whitney, drawing more moans and whines from him.
Deeming him stretched out enough, you pulled your fingers out of Whitney. He whined at the sudden emptiness and clenched around nothing.
“What did I say, Whitney? You’ll get something better soon.” You used any remaining liquid on your fingers to slick up your own dick, before lining your tip up. You tilted his hips up a bit for better access and pushed the tip in.
Whitney keened. You groaned, saying,“Fuck, you’re still tight. Relax for me, okay? Don’t want this to hurt.” He listened to you, relaxing his muscles a bit. Although he was still a little tense, Whitney was loose enough that you could push in deeper.
You grabbed onto his hips, tightly enough to bruise, as you finally bottomed out, causing both Whitney and yourself to moan. The blonde’s breathing was labored, and sweat was beading on his brow. You filled him up so well. He clutched the bear tightly to his chest in an attempt to ground himself. “God, you feel so good Whit. So pretty for me. I’m gonna move now, okay?”
Whitney nodded in response, already struggling to form words. He gasped as you began to pull out of him and thrusted right back in. You began with a slow pace, much to Whitney’s disappointment.
As you continued at that slow pace, Whitney’s desperation brought him to tears. He felt so close to cumming, yet so far. “Please…” he sobbed, finally breaking completely down,“Need more…” He held on tightly to the teddy bear, staining it with his tears.
Seeing Whitney cry only led to more arousal on your part. “Fuck, Whit, you look so good, taking me so well. I’ve got you.” He whined at your praise.
You started to pound into him faster, finally doing what Whitney wanted you to. When you began to thrust into his prostate head on, he practically screamed and came without warning. His neediness surely contributed to his quick orgasm too. You groaned at the feeling of him clenching around you. The white liquid coated his stomach, some of it (unfortunately) getting on the bear.
However, when you went even faster—fueled by the lust seeing him cry brought you—Whitney started wailing more. One of his hands still held the teddy bear for comfort, whilst the other dug into the skin of your neck.
Your extreme pace has Whitney seeing stars. His dick started leaking again when he wasn’t even fully recovered from his last orgasm. “T-too much!” he cried out in overstimulation, tears still slipping from his eyes.
“Hm, baby? Do you want me to stop?” You slowed down, sounding concerned. Fuck, you cared so much, it only made him want to cry more.
“N-no, please, keep going…”
“Mk, you’ve done so good so far. Just let me know if it gets to be too much.” You resumed your fast pace, the sound of skin slapping echoing through the room, although you made sure to go a little bit slower now.
Whitney’s face was completely flushed with crystalline tears dripping down. Your praise only increased the rush of blood throughout his body. He was panting and sweating and he couldn’t speak beyond small phrases or words.
Your own hips began to stutter, and you could feel a familiar tightening in your abdomen. “Fuck, Whit, I’m gonna cum.”
Whitney hardly processed your groaned words, too lost in his own head. As soon as he felt the warmth of your cum fill him up, he moaned something along the lines of ‘cumming!’ and came for the second time that night. He still held on tightly to the bear.
You pulled out, much to Whitney’s disappointment. He whined at the sudden emptiness he felt.
“Hey, I’ve got you. I’m gonna do one more thing and then we can take a bath, okay? Are you alright with that?”
Seeing him nod, you lowered your body closer to the mattress, aligning your face with his ass. You pushed his legs up to his and licked a stripe over his hole. You could taste your own salty cum leaking from him.
Whitney moaned at the feeling of your tongue. Sure, you had eaten him out before, but this was different. He was already really sensitive.
Your tongue dipped inside Whit, licking up the cum dripping out of him. He whined as your nails dug into his upper thighs, and you continued eating him out like a man starved. You’ve managed to make him hard again with merely a few deep strokes of your tongue.
You pressed your own dick against the mattress in an attempt to get yourself off whilst your tongue repeatedly fucked into him. Your hands moved, one now kneading his ass whilst you used the other to get yourself off.
Whitney struggled to form a coherent thought. The pleasure you gave him only led to further loss of any sense he might have. All he could was moan and sob your name.
It didn’t take long for Whitney to orgasm a third time, too fucked out to warn you. Cum spurted from his spent dick, as you licked into him deeply one last time.
You pulled off of the blonde and jerked yourself off. After cumming on your hand, you brought it to his mouth for him to clean, which he did obediently.
“You did so good, baby,” you said, then pressed a chaste kiss to his bruised lips. “Can I clean you now?”
Once you had Whitney’s nodded approval, you got off the bed and went into his bathroom. You came back with a wet towel, which you used to clean his body.
You used the rag to wipe down the blonde’s face, which was stained with tears in cum. You cleaned off the parts of the bear that had bits of cum on it. You then cleaned the rest: the lower half of his torso, his thighs, and inside of him.
Once you finished cleaning him, you cleaned yourself. Whitney watched through glazed eyes as you re-entered the bathroom. You came back and crawled in bed beside him, pulling the covers over you both. You’d decided you’d wait until tomorrow to clean the bedsheets, instead opting to relax with your boyfriend.
The sun had long set by now, the room only illuminated by serene moonlight. The brisk night breeze floated in through the open window, only blocked by a screen. Your arms were wrapped around Whitney’s waist. He gently dozed against you, small snores escaping him. Whitney could surely be rough and arrogant, but at times like these, he was just as soft as the teddy bear he was still holding.
Characters: Dad!Whitney, Mum!Reader, and your daughter Riley (featuring GN!River and GN!Robin)
Genre: Fluff/Angst (it DO get angsty...)
Warnings/Content: Unplanned pregnancy, brief allusion to abortion. Parenthood angst. Swears.
Word count: 3.2k
Summary: Riley’s turning 5 soon, and will be finishing pre-school in spring. You and Whitney meet with a local principal to discuss her enrolment – and it’s a familiar face.
A/N: I might do a longer A/N in another post because I have some THOUGHTS. This was super hard to write, but I’m so glad I persevered (thanks @propertyofwhitney67 for being my sounding board)
First version was too fluffy, second version was too angsty… hopefully this one is just right. I like it :)
A/N 2: I posted some thoughts.
Edit: I wrote a sequel to this
The ticking clock is deafening.
You’re pretty sure life never used to involve this much waiting. But now, it felt like there was always a reason to wait.
It’s a battle to stop your foot tip-tapping against the tiles, and Whitney’s not faring much better. Oh, he tries to hide it, but you’ve known him long enough to spot the signs. Nibbling lightly on his sleeve, eyes glued to the clock. He’s tense, and it’s understandable given the circumstances. Whitney had insisted on arriving early to make a ‘good impression’. So far, it just meant more time sitting anxiously in the school corridor.
You hate waiting. You’d done your fair share, and it never got easier.
You remember waiting in the orphanage bathroom, where it took 3 minutes for tiny lines to appear on a piss-dipped stick. You were alone then, perched on the bathtub – so nauseous you might splatter the ceramic with vomit. Responsible boyfriend Whitney had insisted on using protection… Well, there were a few occasions where it might have been overlooked in the heat of the moment. You remember how panic’s long fingers wrapped your throat. And the guilt, too. Fertile little slut, aren’t you? Your own words. Whitney never blamed you, but there was no need when you were so good at that yourself.
You waited to tell Whitney you were pregnant – 12 lonely hours that left you feeling hollowed out with worry. You’d never discussed kids – because you were teenagers. Better tell him in person, you thought, staring at the ceiling through raw, reddened eyes. It’s the right thing to do. Ironic how you were so sure of yourself then –so naive. Parenthood raises so many questions, and not nearly enough answers. You wished you could still be so sure of the right thing to do.
Part of you still wishes you hadn’t waited to tell him in person, because you wish you’d never seen the colour drain from Whitney’s face. Rarely one to offer you the comfort of privacy, he’d insisted that whatever his slut had to say, it could be said on the roof in front of everyone. All you could manage was a whisper, but the impact was blinding. He vanished like smoke. You didn’t see or speak to Whitney for two days.
So, you waited.
He was waiting, too, ‘til those nasty, fearful, fucked up feelings could be gathered up and squashed down in the pit of his stomach - right where they fucking belong. He waited ‘til his knuckles were bruised against bricks, until his eyes stung dry in their sockets. Only then did he come to find you. When he did, Whitney clung to you fearfully as he waited for the right words to come. They didn’t for a long time.
You waited together for the first appointment, in a room much like this one – beige floor tiles, fluorescent light and walls tinged with pale piss-yellow paint. Whitney was nervous then, gripping your hand hard enough to hurt. You’d let him.
Despite fear, he never pushed you. Right off the bat, he told you he’d support any decision you chose to make, as any noble impregnator should. At the time, you tried hard to feel grateful – because it felt shitty not to be. Wasn’t he being so supportive, letting you take the lead?
But… it was lonely. It wasn’t until recently he’d shamefully admitted how it was easier to distance himself – leaving you to make that tough decision on your own. He’s sorry for that.
That was a long time ago, in another life. It would be Riley’s birthday soon – 5 years old, holy shit. Hard to believe she’d be finishing pre-school in summer, and starting Primary School in autumn. Picking the right school for your daughter was one of those Big Family Decisions you’re not sure you’ll ever get used to making. Now, you’re waiting to meet with the principal, to discuss Riley’s admission. You know to expect a familiar face.
River had been in charge of Willow Primary School for 3 years. From what you’d researched, they’d switched jobs shortly after Leighton’s arrest – who could blame them for wanting a fresh start? This school was going from strength to strength with River at the helm – and that’s exactly the reason you’d chosen it. All that remained was to convince them that Riley would be an excellent addition. How hard could it be? She’s a star.
“D’ya think River’ll remember us?” Whitney whispers, his eyes fixed on the clock. There’s no need to keep your voices low - there’s nobody else around, and the receptionist clearly doesn’t care. She’s busy clacking at her keyboard while the phone rings endlessly.
You smile wistfully. “Oh, they’ll remember you.” Easy answer – River probably still had flashbacks.
“You think?” Whitney stretches in the uncomfortable seat, leaning back. The flimsy chair creaks in protest. “Yeah… probly right…”
It startles you when the office door finally swings open; the sudden noise causes you both to stiffen in your seats. River looks… much the same as they did years ago, in all honesty. Only their hair’s a little greyer and they’re dressed a little smarter – a sharp suit befitting their new role as leader of a successful school. They look the part.
But practiced, professional composure is no match for the shock of seeing Whitney sat opposite – older, but still completely recognisable. In fact, you’re not even sure River notices you. When they speak, it’s not to you.
“Whitney,” they stride over, palm outstretched. “Always thought I’d be retired before any of your offspring made it into the school system.” You wonder how long River’s had that line rehearsed. You’re surprised to feel yourself relax; there’s some comfort in the familiarity of the teacher’s face.
Your eyes flicker to Whitney; he seems a little less anxious too - the sight of his old maths teacher must be reigniting a relaxed confidence. It’s not like Whitney was ever afraid of River – far from it. But it was safe to say they always had an interesting dynamic.
“River,” he nods, grasping the outstretched hand. Knowing Whitney, it’s sure to be an overly-firm handshake.
“And…” River’s expression wavers as they turn towards you – it’s painfully clear they’ve forgotten your name. Still, it doesn’t stop them from thrusting a hand into yours. There’s no choice but to reintroduce yourself. Maybe you can forgive their lapse in memory – you’re a pair of ghosts, after all.
Tentatively, you’re led inside the small office. It’s neat and organised – nothing like Leighton’s was. If anything, it’s little soulless, despite a few little touches of character. River settles behind the large wooden desk, and you perch on two chairs opposite. The air smells of… nothing. A vase of artificial sunflowers gather dust on the windowsill. There’s a school motto emblazoned on the wall, in an aggressively cursive font makes it impossible to read.
“Is little Riley not joining us?”
“No, she’s with a friend,” you explain. “They’re meeting us here after, though.”
It never actually occurred to you to bring Riley along – it might have been a smart move, actually. Your daughter regularly has strangers eating out of her hand.
“So,” River leans back, trying their best to look comfortable. “What can you tell me about Riley?”
Whitney glances to you expectantly. Looks like Mum’s fielding the first question.
“Well… she’s a great kid…” Already, you feel your shoulders ease into shrug, because it’s hard to know where to begin. Still, River seems to be hanging on your every word. “She’s turning 5 next month… She’s happy – really smart for her age. She’s can write her name, and her reading’s coming along really well, and-”
“You wanna see her, right?” Whitney doesn’t need a response - he’s tapped open his camera roll and is leaning over - fully prepared to give River a detailed context for each and every photograph. You smile knowingly. There’s likely to be a whole lot of photos.
You wonder which particular album River’s being treated to. Riley feeding ducks at the park in her brand-new raincoat… or maybe Riley wrapped in a striped football scarf, cheeks flushed with cold in the stands. Maybe it’s Riley throwing a tea party for her sizable plushie collection – you can never remember all their names like Dad can, or do the voices right. Whitney’s, beaming of course - once he gets started, there’s not much that can stop him.
But as extensive as the collection of snapshots is, you know it barely scratches the surface of what goes on at home. For instance, there’s probably no photos of Whitney tending Riley’s grazes after she fell off her first bike last spring – you still remember the pep-talk he gave her, because she parrots it back to you all the time. There’s probably no video of Whitney reading the Gruffalo for the 7th time in a row, just to soothe his feverish girl back to sleep after a nightmare. You’re pretty certain there’s no picture of him anxiously fiddling with his keys all day, just in case Riley needed picking up early from her first day of preschool. She didn’t.
“She has her dad’s eyes, then,” River turns to you, appealing for a little help getting the meeting back on track. Whitney’s far too engrossed to notice the teacher’s growing indifference – it’s a little funny. Who wouldn’t want to see all the awesome stuff his kid gets up to? Just look at her, she’s the best.
Anyone with half a brain could see that Riley had inherited most of her looks from Dad – those striking blue eyes were probably the best evidence. Her hair was beginning to darken now, as blonde hair often does as children reach Riley’s age. You’d not seen many photos of Whitney as a kid, but the few you had seen made it clear that the resemblance was spooky.
“Yeah,” Whitney beams, running a hand through his hair. “Not just my eyes, though. Same nose too, right River?” He’s gushing, in his element - full Dad-flow. In that moment, anyone in could be forgiven for thinking fatherhood is something Whitney always saw for himself. It’s pretty special.
After humouring a couple more photos, River politely slides the phone back across the desk. On screen, your daughter grins back – a smattering of freckles kiss the bridge of her nose, just beneath her sparkly purple sunglasses and a big straw hat. Whitney must have taken this one at the beach last summer.
River’s nodding briskly as Whitney finally pockets his phone. He looks relieved. You chat a little longer about the academics, with the teacher guiding conversation. You hear about Riley’s class, and who her teacher is likely to be. And you notice you’re… kinda rocking it. For a moment you wonder why you’d ever felt so nervous.
“What about… socially? Any issues?” River queries, tenting their fingers curiously.
It’s an innocent enough question, of course – exactly the sort of thing they’d asked at Riley’s pre-school. And it’s easy to answer honestly, because you couldn’t have been blessed with a more perfect kid.
You tell River everything – how Riley could find friends in an empty room, and how she always says ‘please’ and ‘thank you’. From dance class on Monday, through to football training on Sunday morning… she’s a total ray of sunshine.
“Okay, let me rephrase…” It’s clear that River is considering their next words carefully. “Any… behavioural problems we should know about?”
Subtext hangs like a foul smell. Ah, there it is - judgement. You were no stranger to it as young parents – but you hadn’t been prepared for it to take this particular form. River wants your crystal-clear assurance. Can you blame them for asking?
What they want to ask is this - is your daughter going to cause us any trouble?
Whitney’s quick to respond like a whip. “No, she’s great. Like, the greatest kid ever… Everyone just loves her as soon as they meet her, y’know?” You sense his guard rising. The quiver in his voice is subtle; River won’t have noticed. Later, you wonder if it hurt Whitney to hear his daughter assessed against on his own misdeeds as a teen.
You offer your own thoughts, trying to diffuse the building tension – it’s probably standard question, after all. “Well, there was a hair-pulling phase, but she grew out of that pretty quick…” you pause, searching your mind for anything else that might be worth mentioning. There really isn’t much. “She doesn-“
“I get it,” Whitney’s cutting you off. “You want to know she’s a little shit, right? Like me?”
His pointed tone takes River entirely off guard. You grip Whitney’s thigh under the desk, aiming to reassure him. It’s bouncing restlessly.
You’d sensed River’s prejudice too, of course… but despite the past, it’s not exactly fair. Riley’s 4. A familiar pallor plasters the teacher’s face as they stutter and backtrack, but Whitney’s on a roll now. He was never going to take any shit from his ex-maths teacher – be it real or perceived.
“Don’t worry. My kid’s nothing like me,” Whitney’s indignant, spitting words like venom. “That’s what you’re asking, right?”
Fear of fatherhood isn’t something Whitney discusses. But those feelings have to get bottled up somewhere… occasionally they explode – spitting and hissing like a wounded cat. That’s what’s happening right now in River’s office. Becoming a dad had changed Whitney in many ways… but clearly, his distrust of authority figures still runs pretty deep.
Not that yelling was a common occurrence at home. Whitney so rarely raised his voice, unless in response to some perceived danger or delight. Actually, you were a little envious. How did he manage to stay so chilled out, when you were both exhausted and running on fumes? Riley was far from a bad kid, but she could be stubborn, cheeky and opinionated. No prizes for guessing where she inherited those traits.
You know there’s probably no coming back from this - it’s all gone to shit. Whitney’s risen from the chair, still going.
“Know what?” he shrugs fiercely - gripping your arm, ready to leave. “You don’t deserve my daughter at your shitty school.”
At this point, there might still be some salvaging this – it’s a good school, after all. A grovelling phone call, or a heartfelt email detailing the stress you’re under. Maybe River will understand. Parenthood’s not easy, after all – and it’s not like either of you have much family support. It’s hard – and you’re sure lots of parents snap from time to time.
As Whitney pulls you away from the office, he leans back through the doorway, fixing his ex-teacher with a final sour assessment.
“Fuck you, you old cunt.”
Yeah, maybe there’s no fixing this after all.
You’re dragged down the corridor, past the stricken face of the receptionist… and the phone’s still ringing as you’re yanked through double doors into the crisp afternoon air.
When you reach the school gates, Whitney huffs deeply and leans against the railings. He’s lighting a cigarette, wasting no time in an effort to settle his adrenaline. The weather’s dry, but he hoists the hood of his jacket around his head.
You wait. It’s impossible to know what should be said. Sentence starters flicker through your mind, but none of them taste quite right. You let him smoke in silence for a bit.
“… There’s other schools,” you extend to the stillness. Whitney’s staring anywhere but your direction, waiting for uncomfortable feelings to simmer down enough before he speaks.
“I fucked up,” he mumbles. It’s painfully clear from the tightness in his jaw how much he knows it, too.
Still, he lets you squeeze his hand.
“Yeah, well… I’m proud of you for sticking up for her,” you offer in reply.
“Fuck off,” he scoffs. As he squeezes your hand back, you wonder if he might mean thank you.
You check your phone – there’s 1 new message from Robin. You hastily tap a reply. “They won’t be long.”
Whitney nods. His shoulders fall in a sigh; turned protectively away, avoiding your eyes. You can tell he’s gathering words.
"I mean what I said. Riley’s nothing like me… and I’m fucking glad. Because she’s awesome.”
It stings. It’s hard to see Whitney so insecure after all this time – still unable to see the amazing parent he’s become, and how adored he is. A fucking natural. You were jealous.
“She’s a lot like you, Whit…” It’s easy to list the ways – they’d been staring you in the face for 5 years. “She’s funny, feisty, loving, fearless... Not to mentionsuper clever… people just flock to her… Want me to keep going?”
He hums dismissively – studying the pavement. He takes a long, deep drag of nicotine before speaking.
“I just… I can’t believe she’s not messed up, y’know? Don’t know what the fuck I’m doing…”
Now that feeling was all too familiar. Your hand cluthes his in wordless solidarity.
It’s a while before the right words find your tongue.
“Thanks for doing this with me.”
Emotion needles at your throat. Because all too easy to remember a time when you thought he might not do this with you. You remember how scary that felt.
He’s wrapping an arm around your shoulder, squeezing firm enough to knock a little breath from your chest. “Wouldn’t do it with anyone else, idiot…” A kiss brushes your hair. “Get used to it.”
You smile, tucking yourself against Whitney’s chest. Over your shoulder, he’s looking down the street beneath coiling smoke. Waiting.
Sure enough, Riley and Robin round the corner, holding hands. It’s hard to tell exactly, but it looks as though your daughter is carrying a big stick in one hand – joyously tap-tapping it against the railings. Robin waves.
Whitney waves back, extinguishing his cigarette against the ground. He’d grown to appreciate Robin – they were a total godsend. Riley adored them, and the feeling was mutual.
“It’s cool that you two are still close,” Whitney muses. “Might be cool for Riley to have a little brother or sister or something…”
Before you can reply, Riley’s sprinting over – almost like he planned it. Her stick lays discarded on the pavement, and you can see a crown of daisies looped around her head. Little arms outstretched; she’s running over to you both with the biggest grin wrinkling her freckled nose. No, she’s running to Whitney.Of course – Daddy’s girl.
Whitney scoops her up easily, spinning round as she laughs and squeals and snorts with laughter.
“This my new school?” Riley asks breathlessly. You pick a stray daisy from her dark blonde fringe.
She’s tumbled her over in Dad’s arms; dangling, giggling and wriggling.
“Nah, not here," he kisses her squirming cheek. "You’re gonna go to a better school, squirt.”
ppl seem to think that kylar would want PC pumping out the babies like a pair of rabbits, i actually think that after you had just one (1) baby that hoe would be immediately regretting it. they see you caring for your baby, loving it in such a pure, unbreakable way - and they lose their fucking mind methinks. they have to actively convince themself not to yeet that thing right out the manor window. ultimately i think they’d hide it, plaster on a deranged smile and pretend to be okay with it - because they know you’d choose your baby over them. they can tell you love that thing more than you’ll ever love them. but they’d be seething every second that they watched you together, just constantly daydreaming of a life without the baby.
I often get asked for an art tutorial on how to replicate the 14 Days With You art style, so here y'all go!! This one is for the eyes specifically, but feel free to let me know what you'd like to see next!
⌜ DO NOT REPOST OR REUPLOAD. ⌟ If you want to share it anywhere outside of Tumblr, share a link to this post.
I often get asked for an art tutorial on how to replicate the 14 Days With You art style, so here y'all go!! This one is for the eyes specifically, but feel free to let me know what you'd like to see next!
⌜ DO NOT REPOST OR REUPLOAD. ⌟ If you want to share it anywhere outside of Tumblr, share a link to this post.
Heya everyone, I’m back again with my bs and this time I dragged one of besties into it muahaha!!
My sister from another mother, @sethrine-writes and I did a collab of sorts, with the idea of an incubus [REDACTED] that’s passing off as a priest. This one was inspired by concept of a couple of prompts in the @14dayswithyou’s discord server.
Thank you again Seth, for listening to me ramble for days about this- AND BEING AWESOME AF AND MAKING IT REAL TuT
You didn’t have to do so much for me but you and I’m happy cuz you captured my what I had in mind perfectly!
Pls pls go read her fic. It has the Moni seal of approval!
You can find it here on Seth’s blog and in her AO3 page
I find myself under massive pressure because of my finals.
So I find myself horny.
May we have some whimpering/overstimulated, tied up [REDACTED] after getting his brattiness fucked right out of them?
(I'm sleepy, tired and depressed. Not sure if I wrote this ask correctly cuz It's not my first language so, um, sorry)
✦゜ANSWERED: aaaaaa I hope your finals go well!! <3 You can do this (if you haven't already!!) ^^
NOTE: Angel is gender neutral (as always) but they have a pp in this one!!! It can be a real one or a strap on -- whateva you prefer!
"F-Fuuuuck."
He practically whines into the open air, dark hair pooling underneath his head as [REDACTED] languidly shifts his hips against your length. He almost loses composure (or what's left of it) the moment your hands descend upon his chest — though once they start to travel lower, he's all but buckling against the bedsheets and slinking away.
"Ngh— Shit," He almost bites his tongue, "Wait!"
Your mind registers his words, though your hands continue their descent until they tangle themselves in a patch of dark, thick curls. Admiring the way [REDACTED]'s face morphs into strained pleasure, you brush past his weeping cock in favour of pushing his legs up to meet his chest and sinking deeper into his inviting heat.
"Oi! I said wait! 'M still—" He keens out when he feels the heavy weight and stretch of your shaft inside him, making his body ache in all the right places. "—Can't. 'M still sensitive... Give me a secon—"
His head falls back when you start to thrust once more.
"I can't! 'M gonna shoot blanks!" Your dark-haired hacker lets out a shaky laugh before trying to cover his reddening cheeks with his arm, only to realise that they were still tied to the headboard by his belt. "Ah! F-Fu—"
You try to soothe his slight discomfort by pressing hot kisses against his collarbone and neck, though that only seems to encourage him to writhe on your length even more and whimper about how overstimulated he's feeling. Yet despite the pain, your dark-haired boyfriend can't help but surrender himself to your affection — immediately leaning into your kisses and shamelessly rutting his hips despite the ache.
It seems that despite everything, he could never refuse your touch.
"Feels good..." He rasps out, "Feels s'good. Please."
He's not sure what he's begging for. For you to speed up, to slow down, to go harder — his mind becomes a hazy mess of you, you, you, as you fuck him through yet another orgasm for the night.
He doesn't mind that you're not giving his cock any attention, instead letting it bounce between your bodies as he comes undone on your own.
"I'm gonna—" He's babbling now, mouth hanging wide open as his eyes roll back, "Gonna cum again— Gonna— Ah!"
Your name falls from his lips like a mantra as the hacker's back arches off the mattress. [REDACTED] was right when he said that he'd start shooting blanks soon, because if it weren't for the look of ecstatic bliss on his face and the drawn-out moan, you wouldn't have known that he just came again.
A satisfied sigh falls from his lips as he blinks away the tears, and he can only look at you with soft eyes that beg you to come closer and rest your heartbeat against his.
Indulging him, you lean up to remove the restraints around his wrists, peppering his face with soft, kitten kisses and gentle nuzzles as you go along. You can feel [REDACTED]'s lips curl into a soft smile against your skin, but not before he playfully bites down on your neck and sends a shiver up your spine.
Oh?
Taking that as your chance to lean back and look at his smug expression, you send him a mischievous grin of your own before spreading his legs wide open once more.
"Still feeling bratty, are we?" You pull back, "Luckily for you; I didn't get to come yet."
redacted,,the one who would do anything for his dear angel even stays as his persona to be with them , be good for them,,be loved by them but he knows..he knows that he can’t stay as his persona forever, one day he needs to show himself to angel or else,,angel may caught him one day this thoughts makes him anxious, scared,,
he doesn’t want to show who he is to his precious angel , his real face.. he hates it , he hates himself of who he is.. “filthy” “ugly” “disgusting” “full of sins” , even his persona would laugh at him , the persona he created to be with angel..
“Angel loves me and not you”
“You are full of sins that won’t be forgiven”
“I am better then you”
“They would freak out if they saw you like this”
“You don’t deserve them..”
“You useless”
“You aren’t good enough for them”
…
…he’s persona is right.. , he isn’t good enough for them..
✦゜ANSWERED: Yeah, you can! That was kinda the intention if you went down the woohoo route in Day 1 — but Ren, on the other hand, would immediately consider you both an item after you sleep with him ^^;
