Eren N His Personal Water Park .

Mafia Ari 👀 angry? sexy! hot 🥵

Pairing: Mafia!Ari x reader

Warnings: Rough smut, oral (fem receiving), choking, size kink, praise kink, primal play, housewife kink, mentions of canon level violence (not towards reader), protective Ari. Ari is 6'6".

Word count: 1.8K

a/n: Written on my phone, I'll edit it later. Unbeta'd.

Music filters out of your phone on the counter. Dancing in front of the stove, you shrink back from the heat pouring over your face when you open the oven door. The fragrant scents of your garlic roasted chicken drift up, you inhale it with a smile. Ari is going to love this. You’re pairing it with a few of his favorite sides and you can’t wait for him to try your new recipe.

You chuckle softly, remembering the last time you tried something new, he ate every last salty, burned bite of the dish despite your insistence that he didn’t have to.

Closing the door, you turn down the heat, letting everything simmer. All you have to do is finish setting the table and grab his beer out of the fridge. His meeting should be almost over..

You take a step back, smoothing your hands down the front of your dress. He bought it for you a week ago; it fits you perfectly, enhancing your curves and the color is beautiful.

You take two steps away from the stove, turning towards the fridge when a loud bang startles you. It coming from the front of the house. A second loud boom travels throughout the halls, a shriek snakes up your throat, your heart pounds in your chest. You look around frantically, fear slivers down your spine, freezing you in place. Then you hear the rapid rhythmic stomping of something, someone coming down the hall.

You’re about to dive for the gun he has hidden under the table when you hear your name, growled, low and dark in his throat.

You recognize that voice.

You recognize that tone.

Ari.

He storms into the kitchen, and he sucked all the air out of the room with his domineering presence. Your breath hitches in your throat, eyes raking up and down the disheveled man. You’ve seen Ari when he’s angry, but this-this is something different. More primal. His large hands grab the sides of the doorway, his upper body leaning towards you as if he’s physically holding himself back. Small splatters of crimson pepper his white shirt, the stains spreading across his collar.

Ari cracks his neck, the low crunching noise as he rolls his shoulders makes you take a step back. Deep blue eyes travel up your body, past your bare feet to your calves, his lip twitches and his grip tightens, the wood creaking faintly. He continues his perusal of your trembling body, sweeping back and forth cautiously, thoughtfully, as if he’s searching for something.

His solemn gaze land on your face, lingering on your lips before finding your wide eyes. A flash of relief crosses his face before more rage seeps in, enhancing his stunning features. “Run.”

Your brows furrow, licking your dry lips, you scoff out a confused “what?”

Ari stands up straight, his head brushing the top of the doorframe. His deft fingers grasp the front of his shirt and he rips it open, buttons hitting the floor with sharp pings. “Run. Now. Sunshine.”

You can’t.

He’s blocking the only way in and out of the kitchen.

You can’t run.

You study his hands, watching as his shirt flutters to the floor, he pulls off his belt in one swift motion. “Don’t say I didn’t give you a chance to run.”

Your eyes flicker up to his face and your belly drops. He knows you can’t get out here. He knows, and he’s doing this on purpose. Heat, arousal, and anticipation swirl in your fluttering belly before settling between your thighs. Your panties cling to you, drenched.

You take a step back, he follows. Every small step is met with his long, measured stride, slowly unbuttoning his pants, he smirks down at you.

“When I catch you, I don’t think I’ll be able to let you go Sunshine.” His voice is low, gravelly, and taunting.

A predator hunting down his prey.

You keep moving, your chest rising and falling rapidly, unable to tamp down your growing excitement. His bulge getting bigger and bigger every second.

He’s caging you in.

You’re running out of room.

Ari’s purposely advancing on you, his darkening eyes never leaving your face, full pink lips twisted into a devious smirk.

Your foot slips.

“Oh shit Ari-,” you gasp, reaching out to steady yourself. The back of your thighs hit the edge of the table. He crosses the remaining space in two long strides, standing so close you can feel the heat radiating off the large body.

“You really should have run, Sunshine.” His voice deepens, the warning in his tone goes straight to your aching pussy and you clench down. Ari reaches inside his boxers, your knees almost buckle at the sight of his long, thick cock, hard and leaking, a bead of precum rolling off his swollen head.

There’s no time to think, to react. Not with him so fucking close, his cock brushes over your belly, his masculine cologne filling your nose. Ari seems even bigger than usual, towering over you, making you feel petite. Without another word, he spins you around, your hands hitting the table, knocking over the plate you set down earlier. He’s treating your body like it belongs to him, hooking his hand under your thigh, spreading you open.

“Ari-“ his name ends in a soft moan. “Oh fuck-“

Normally he eases you into, takes his time with foreplay, doesn’t fuck you until you’re on the brink of begging. But right now, he can’t wait any longer, twisting your panties to the side, he sends up a silent thanks that you’re so wet for him, he could feel your slick coating your thighs when he grabbed you.

“Such a good girl,” he murmurs, lining his throbbing cock up with your hot, drenched pussy. And he pushes into with one firm stroke, your velvety walls clamping down on him, Ari’s broken groans drowning out your own soft sobs.

Pleasure laced with a sweet burning sensation pulses up your spine. You take in a breath, your hands forming fist as he languidly eases out of you, inch by inch. He slams back into you; the wet sloshing sound resounding in your ears as you stretch to fit his thick cock. He angles up, moving deeper and deeper until he’s in your belly.

“Oh god, oh god oh fuck,” you moan, your chin dropping to your chest, unable to support your own weight as he pounds into you. The fast, controlled pace lets his cock hit that sweet, sensitive spot until your vision blurs with unshed tears.

“It ain’t god making you feel like this sunshine,” Ari states, breathlessly. He stares down at your writhing body, his gaze flickering between your head lolled to the side, mouth slack, and his cock disappearing in and out of your tight cunt. He bends down, his large hand wrapping around your throat, pulling you up until your back is flush with his chest.

“Who’s making you feel good?” There’s a desperation in his voice that you’re not used to, it’s as if he needs to hear his name on your tongue.

“You are-Ari, only you, oh fuck” you breathe, digging your nails into his wrists. This new angle is letting him go even deeper, his hips grinding into you. “Ari, don’t stop, please don’t-“

“I won’t, not until you cum for me. “He drops his head along the curve of your shoulder, nipping your skin

You’re unaware that you’re chanting his name, you don’t think you can take anymore; it feels too good; shards of exquisite sensations swirling up, the pleasure enhanced by the pressure on your throat, you’re getting lightheaded, all you can feel right now is him-Ari, his warm, firm chest through the thin material of your dress, a rough, scarred hand moving up your thigh until the pad of his fingers circles your swollen clit tenderly, a direct contrast to the rough, way he’s fucking you. “I got you, just take it Sunshine, lemme feel you cum on my cock, there ya go.”

You clench down around him, his strokes falter as your orgasm unfurls inside you, an endless sultry white-hot wave of pleasure surges up, rushing across your body. Your body tenses, a thin gasp escaping your lips. Ari fucks you through it until you go limp around him. You would collapse to the tiled floor if he weren’t holding you.

He circles his hips erratic thrusting, once, twice then he groans your name as he spills inside you, relishing in the feel of your fluttering walls around his cock, murmuring soft praises as you pant. He slips out of you, turning your pliant body around and placing you on the table.

“What the fuck was that?” Dropping back, you rest on your elbows, he tears your ruined panties off, putting them in his pocket. “I’m not complaining, but you haven’t gone all cavemen since that night-“ you gesture with your fingers.

A rueful smile tugs at his lips and for a minute he stares down at you, his eyes watching his cum drip out of your swollen pussy. He sighs, carding his hand through his damp locks. You don’t think he’s going to answer; he pulls out the chair and sits in front of you, placing his hands on your thighs. “Some punk thought he could threaten you," he responds quietly.

“Oh,” you respond, trying to keep the amusement out of your voice.

That explains it.

Ari barely tolerates people looking at you. He always says you’re the only light, his sunshine, in his dark, merciless world and he refuses to let anyone take you from him.

You don’t bother to ask what he did to whoever was stupid enough to mention your name in front of your man.

After all you were there when the Drysdale heir thought his legacy could shield him after he smacked your ass at a party.

You didn’t know Ari could toss another grown man through a window until that night.

It was impressive and you thanked him very throughly for protecting you.

"Did you toss this one off a roof or something?" You laugh, raising your eyebrows playfully.

Ari glares at you, but all the heat and rage in his blue eyes are gone, only the possessive love and neediness you’re accustomed to seeing remains. “I may have overreacted.”

You laugh knowing he's not going to tell you what he did, so you turn your attention to charred food on the stove. “Ya think? I hope you weren’t hungry because I’m pretty sure our dinner is burned by now”

“That’s on you for not running.” His sharp retort makes you laugh harder. Ari grumbles under his breath, something about eating until he's full, his hands moving under your ass, lifting you until your pussy is in his face. “I got something better right here.”

“Ari-“ You squeal, his tongue sliding through your messy folds. “Oh you’re filthy.”

“Not my fault your pussy tastes so damn good,” he mumbles, sucking your clit into his mouth, a burst of sensations takes you off guard and your elbows slip, your back hits the table with a soft thud. “Now lay there and let me enjoy my meal.”

my melody jewelry boxes ♡︎

Request/Idea-

Male Yandere Lawyer x Female Embroider Reader (a lady who works as a tailor is fine too)

Imagine a man falling head over heels for that newly employed lady who hand embroiders beautiful handkerchiefs in a luxury shop he visits to get his custom suits! And he just trying to coax her into dating him, marrying him, and becoming his stay at home wife (and mother of his children eventually) 🥰🤭

Age difference? I need some DILF Daddy energy more in my life (but don’t make him an actual father…yet)

P.S. I adore your OCs and writing. And your artwork is way too fucking good! You’re art is just *chef’s kiss* infuckingcredible

-👘

Ooh, you know what this reminds me of? I have a yaoi volume from Scarlet Beriko, “Queen and the tailor”, about an interior designer that visits a legendary tailor whose suits will supposedly help you achieve success. The tailor turns out to be a scary looking, blunt man but nonetheless extremely talented. I liked the premise a lot, so it’s definitely interesting to try out a different perspective.

In this case I have the image of a patient, soft-spoken reader and a hurried, short tempered lawyer. Comically different but in a way that eventually works out, you know? Also thank you for the kind words!

Yandere!Lawyer x Embroiderer!Reader Headcanons

Featuring a Reader that is blissfully unaware the lawyer she just stared dating has their entire life together already sorted out.

Content: female reader, age gap, older yandere, obsessive behavior

Your eyes begin to hurt mildly, so you look out the window and blink repeatedly, trying to refresh your poor sight. Such detailed works always strain you terribly, but you love seeing the finished result. Others must, too, given your handkerchiefs are often sold out the very same day. Right before your needle pierces the silk canvas anew, the door opens with a burst and you jolt. An older man in a suit, arguing loudly over the phone. He’s drumming his fingers over the counter, eyes darting around in search for an attendant. You know the type quite well, so you hurry over with the hoop still in your hand. “Might I help you with anything?” You mouth discreetly. He turns to you, stares for a couple of seconds, and promptly ends his call.

Out of all the places, he certainly didn’t expect regretting his rusty, unpolished flirting skills in a luxury tailor shop. Yet here he is now, clumsily mumbling something about his new suit he’s come to pick up and wondering how to connect that with your number. The name’s the easy part, as it’s neatly and conveniently printed out on the little badge pinned to your collar. Everything else, not so much. You excuse yourself and return moments later with his order. Shit. You tilt your head, confused by the delayed response, worrying whether you forgot something. Next time. He’ll figure it out for sure next time he comes here.

If there’s one good thing about his career, it’s that his eyes have been trained to spot every detail. For example the embroidery hoop you gently held while speaking to him, so he knows exactly what his next custom order will be. Truth be told, he didn’t anticipate your popularity and long waiting times, but a calculated raised tone with a sprinkle of intimidation has convinced the employee to assign him to you as earliest priority. Whether he can flirt remains to be seen, but arguing with others? Child’s play.

“Thank you for coming again today.” You bow slightly and extend the gift bag. “Although, I must say…I’ve never seen you using these before. What has caused your sudden interest in handkerchiefs?” Rather bold of you to begin such conversations, but your curiosity is too great. No matter how hard you try, you can’t imagine why a blunt, nonchalant man like him would abruptly become passionate about embroidery. A lover? You smile faintly at the idea. Whoever it is, they’ve taken quite the challenge upon themselves. The lawyer frowns at the inquiry. It seems you’re just as observant as him. Maybe this shall be the pretext he can finally cling onto. So he presents it in the factual truth you’d hear in a courthouse: it’s his excuse to see you. You raise your eyebrows in surprise. Well now, isn’t it just silly? He could’ve simply asked. Buying countless expensive handmade items instead of plainly confessing his intentions…He stumbles, flustered. The same man whose ruthless reputation has even reached your humble ears is anxiously awaiting your response with a deep blush on his face.

The childlike innocence doesn’t last long. You’ve agreed to date him and that’s great, but he’s a man with little time that has known exactly what he wants for many years. When he laid his eyes on you he didn’t imagine cheesy coffee dates as you discuss your favorite color and cautiously breach the topic of intimacy. What’s the point? He’s already certain he’ll spend the rest of his life with you. Skip the unnecessary steps. On the other hand, you’re not as cooperative as he’d wish. Truly, the tangible proof that opposites attract. You’re always calm and take your time with everything. It’s almost frustrating how easygoing you are. When asked when you’re moving in with him, you just smiled and wondered out loud what could be wrong with your small studio above the shop. Marriage? Good question, you never thought about it.

Oh, the irony. Last time a client was being particularly difficult, your lawyer boyfriend pulled him out by the collar under the mortified stares of the other attendants and shoppers. The exact attitude he himself would’ve shown before, yet this time it’s different. Of course it is, it involves you. His thin patience runs out if it’s you. That’s all there is to it. Can you blame a man for following his heart? They say you should always chase your dreams; he prefers hunting them down efficiently, and the shotgun is pointed in your direction. His sweet, exquisite prey he can never get enough of.

Finally you agree to move in with him. Your hesitation was maddening and he’d started coming up with downright psychotic alternatives to convince you, such as your studio burning down after a vicious attack of some unknown hooligans. So it was rather wise of you not to push someone that knows the law like the back of his hand, even if you aren’t aware of it yet. He enthusiastically guides you around your new forever home, omitting unimportant details. The spare office he emptied for a future nursery? You’ll get to that later.

He can’t wait to spoil you. See, that’s the advantage of dating an older man. He’s gotten his life sorted out a long time ago. All that was left was finding you. You just need to be a darling and behave. He knows you will. After all, you’re his talented little embroideress that won’t have to worry about anything else ever again.

drapes his jacket over you when he notices you slouching and leaning on your forearm. You’ve definitely fallen asleep when you should be studying and working on your assignment but he’ll let it slide, just this once. (a lie) 

kisses your head and gently runs his long fingers along your back peppering his lips along your neck and arms, doting on you to make sure you don’t get a cold from the ac in the library. (why you chose to sleep under the fan will never cease to confuse him) 

has an album filled with pictures of you sleeping and sets them as his background, alternating between his favorite ones. He claimed to not be the type to obsess over their s/o but how could he not when you’re just so beautiful and loving you is one of the best things he’s ever done? 

Sometimes if he’s feeling generous he’ll finish your work (he’s done it enough that he’s matched your handwriting perfectly but he’ll never admit it) opting for the excuse that you must have completed it before passing out (a lie that loses credibility the more it happens) and when you get a perfect score on the assignment you run into his arms as he congratulates you. (maybe this was all a ploy for your affection) 

“Baby look I got a 100%!” 

“You’re amazing honey, how do you wanna celebrate?” 

Kuroo, Kenma, OSAMU, Suna, Akaashi, Sakusa, Iwaizumi, TSUKISHIMA, Daichi, Oikawa, Kita

ISFJ - if the world makes you confused and your senses you seem to lose . . . look around, i am here

SOAP MAKER! KIYOOMI AND FLORIST! Y/N AU

he goes to you to get ingredients for all his soaps because he knows how well you take care of all your plants.

he knows you don’t use harmful pesticides to keep insects away, you’re smart in your craft and use natural plants to keep unwanted bugs from your precious babies.

you always smile when sakusa comes in, asking you for your best picks of the day, blushes when you throw in an extra bundle bc he’s always there to support you.

he repays you with soaps he crafts specifically for you, it knocks the wind out of you when you inquire about the ingredients and he says he thought long and hard about you,

points out that you have very pretty skin, so he used everything with care.

he’s tedious and hardworking, you can see his love language through these gifts.

just as you care for your plants, taking care and loving them,

he does the same for you from afar.

Alexandra Pozdnyakova