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sisterdivinium · 1 year

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@halobearerhavoc By this tag, you signed up for what I am posting here now (I couldn't help myself, even if it's not a digital game!) Based on John Harper's excellent Lasers & Feelings, this is:

Warrior & Nun

You are members of the ORDER OF THE CRUCIFORM SWORD. Your mission is to protect humankind from demons, preserve your dignity while serving in the Church and finding your own faiths. The HALO BEARER has been sucked by an interdimensional portal, leaving you to fend for yourselves while on leave on The Other Side.

PLAYERS: CREATE CHARACTERS

Choose a weapon for your character: Sword, Staff, Shotguns, Crossbow, Pure martial arts, or Gadgets.

Choose a trait for your character: Proud, Discreet, Outspoken, Eager, Bubbly, or Sombre.

Choose your number, from 2 to 5. A high number means you're better at WARRIOR (fighting, strategising, athletics, strength, passion, etc). A low number means you're better at NUN (diplomacy, academics, social abilities, rituals, calm, etc).

Give your character a cool saint name or something like it.

You have: a regular habit, armour, means of communication with other OCS members, a Mother Superion.

Player goal: get your character involved in crazy demon-hunting and women-kissing adventures and try to make the best of them.

Character goal: choose one or create your own: Prove yourself to your shitty family, Become next in line as halo bearer, Find yourself a new family with your sisters, Forgive yourself for your own sins, Be loved, or Keep Being Awesome (you have nothing to prove).

PLAYERS: CREATE YOUR OCS CHAPTER

As a group, pick two strengths for your convent: Handy connection to a rich, brilliant scientist woman; Ties with a powerful cardinal, Highly competent sisters, Gadgets galore, Large library on demonology, Easy access to vehicles.

Also, pick one problem: Most of the sisters are aggressive, undisciplined and possibly sociopathic; The press is on to you, The Vatican is unwilling to spend another penny on you, Mother Superion is always having a bad day, You only have ammo and fuel for another week, Your house priest might or might not have been compromised by a being from another dimension and is secretly working against you...

ROLLING THE DICE

When you do something risky, roll 1d6 to find out how it goes. Roll +1d if you’re prepared and +1d if you’re an expert. (The GM tells you how many dice to roll, based on your character and the situation.) Roll your dice and compare each die result to your number.

⬇️ If you're using WARRIOR, you want to roll under your number.

⬆️ If you're using NUN, you want to roll over your number.

0 - if none of your dice succeed, it goes wrong. The GM says how things get worse somehow.

1 - if one die succeeds, you barely manage it. The GM inflicts a complication, harm, or cost.

2 - if two dice succeed, you do it well. Good job!

3 - if three dice succeed, you get a critical success! The GM tells you some extra effect you get.

!! - if you roll your number exactly, you gain a moment of REVELATION. You get a special insight into what's going on. Ask the GM a question and they'll answer you honestly. Some good questions: what are they really feeling? Who's behind this? How could I get them to _____? What should I be on the lookout for? What's the best way to _____? What's really going on here?

With your Revelation, you can change your action if you want to, then roll again.

HELPING: If you want to help someone else who's rolling, say how you try to help and make a roll. If you succeed, give them +1d.

GM: CREATE AN UNHOLY ADVENTURE

Roll or choose on the tables below.

A threat...

A possessed cardinal

A demon-worshipping cult

An eurotrash would-be prophet

A Vatican ex-archivist

A mad scientist

A renegade sister warrior

Wants to...

Destroy/corrupt

Steal/capture

Bond with

Protect/empower

Build

Occupy

The...

Pope

Divinium

Vatican

Quantum tunnel

Tarask/wight demon

Holy artefacts

Which will...

Destroy the halo

Brainwash the masses with a new dangerous religion

Enslave humanity

Start a war/invasion

Rip a hole in reality

Fix everything

GM: RUN THE GAME

Play to find out how they defeat the threat. Introduce the threat by showing evidence of its recent badness. Before a threat does something to the characters, show signs that it's about to happen, then ask them what they do. "The Firstborn Children guards run toward you, what do you do?" "Your undercover tactical nun partner pours you a glass of lemon drop and slips her arm around your waist, what do you do?"

Call for a roll when the situation is uncertain. Don't pre-plan outcomes — let the chips fall where they may. Use failures to push the action forward. The situation always changes after a roll, for good or ill. Ask questions and build on the answers. "Have any of you encountered a nun who to all intents and purposes was dead but is now alive and kicking whilst in the process of becoming some sort of demon hybrid before? Where? What happened?"

#warrior nun #ttrpg #tabletop role playing game #i'm sorry but also i'm not #this has NOT been playtested but should any of you give it a spin tell me how it goes #it's satire of course but it SHOULD be functional since the lasers & feelings foundation is pretty solid #(if you're coming into RPGs from D&D 5e this will be hard for you to grok; find an experienced gamemaster to run it for you)#just when you thought tumblr user sisterdivinium couldn't get nerdier...#(i DID mention in the tags to another post that i ran roleplaying games though)#some of the results on the tables might seem contradictory but the idea here is that YOU interpret it as you like #so with the halo bearer on the other side the halo could still be destroyed if you fail #how's THAT for responsibility. fail your mission and ava dies and it's your fault she doesn't reunite with beatrice #funny and or misc

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jegardomnai · 2 months

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RP Call (Halo)

As a warning, I'm a little rusty when it comes to RP but I'd like to get back into it. My rules/info:

Muses: Jega 'Rdomnai (main), several OCs / Fandom: Halo (only, AU friendly), canon or OC, any gender

1x1 / Partner must be 18+ (mun is 19)--does not have to have explicit content, however I am very happy to roleplay such scenarios, in fact it is a preference (see below for more info) / Off-site ONLY, no tumblr DMs or post replies. I have Discord and am open to trying out sites per suggestion / 2-4 sentences typical and preferred. / I use and prefer third person, but do not mind other perspectives. / One time or short term to start, but open to long term if we click. / I am patient and do not expect immediate replies, and would like to be given the same grace as I often run out of steam.

Explicit RP rules: NO non-con or underage content (blocked) / No heavy fetish content (I have nothing wrong with most fetishes and would never make fun of an RP partner for them, but I have my personal preferences and turn offs. However, you may ask if we can include something, but do not ask without being prepared for the answer to be No) / Seeking partner or character of any gender / Mun: Switch, Dom or Sub / Looking for any role/position

Reblog/DM if you are interested and we may share contacts (or RB to help promote if you'd like)

#roleplay #role play #rp #rp call #roleplay call #halo #halo oc #jega 'rdomnai #i hope this still shows up in the tags despite mentioning adult content... damn this site #halo elite #sangheili #my post

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lost-my-sanity1 · 7 months

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WOAH WOAH WOAHHH CALM DOWN SATAN(G)

#the first pic- I want satang to play some godly roles with the halos behind his head or smthg #ksbdkdbdjd he's so insane bro #satang served #he fucking did

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razgrizgirl · 6 months

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Raia 'Taham the current scion* of Sumai keep in the state of Bothaes, Sanghelios. She had to make ends meat for her clan as a taxi driver after the war. Here she is "smiling" at the camera on her first day on the job.

* Scion lore:

Scion is a Sangheili noble title, typically held by Sangheili females. The title is applied upon the death of a keep's given kaidon. While female Sangheili, by tradition, may be mistress of their keep and ruler of their kaidon husbands, they may never become owner and heir to their father's lands and posessions. If the Scion is the only remaining living member of the house, lesser kaidons will vie for the Scion's inheritance by attempting to secure their marriage for themselves or their sons. The Scion is able to refuse such offers, with many Scions in Sangheili history being notable for having done so for years or decades. Some such as the Gray Maiden of Konar lived their entire lives in perpetual siege, fortified in their keeps and aided by loyal vassals and the foolishness of rival kaidons who wasted decades fighting among themselves. Scions, due to being female Sangheili, were typically not able to request the right of release, though Scion Tul 'Juran was succesfully able to do so following the Attack on Rahnelo. In the years since, the Scions have become more valued and respected as Thel 'Vadam's influence has grown. [Taken from halopedia]

#halo #halo game #halo video game #halo lore #halo role-playing #halo meme #halo elite #elite #halo sangheil #sangheli #Sangheili female #elite female #halo elite female #halo 3 #halo mcc

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xcziel · 9 months

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OH! Also new this week:

in case you want to do a little something special for D&D night or maybe bring a nice treat for your host

#critical role #exandria #cookbooks #it is extremely fun to see all the very specific media property cookbooks in Entertaining you guys #whatever you're into there's a strong chance they've licensed some recipes for you to play with #from disney to halo from tolkien to jane austen they made a cookbook just for the fans

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chiptrillino · 1 year

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Do you happen to know about any yue lives and joins the gaang fics? I just found your outfit concepts for her again (still some of my favorite art ever) and was trying to find a fic but nothing appealing.

thank you! <3 and i am sorry. i have been checking ao3 but i couldn'T find the time to read and check any fics out yet. i agree there is not much around

#chip!ask #i genuinley don't mind that yue became tui #i honestly look forward to when she gets like bigger roles as the moon!#like i headcanon a lot of like an au where yue became tui and sokka is la #and well every natural phenonemon can be explained to to like... things that happend in their relationship #like the moon turns red because sokka made her blush or angry #when its a new moon its either because they are playing hide and seak or she is upsad with sokka #or simply put its the night where the moon rest #the rainbow halo around the moon just everytime she gets to smile #such things...#you get what i mean?

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morganas-pendragons · 1 year

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@authortobenamedlater I am BEGGING you to PLEASE get @mrtobenamedlater to start writing crack fic because I am in TEARS over some of the things he's written for my spartan oc LOL

#tbd #seriously the way I just got so many ideas from a Halo role-play....

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waunderrs · 2 months

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Hello there! My name is Nocturnal. I’m 21+ and I’ve been role playing for a very long time. This is a multi-muse blog for all things sci-fi, contemporary and fantasy (including Star Wars Legends) I’m a literate novella-style role player who can write just about any character you can think of AS WELL AS A PLETHORA OF MY OWN OCS whether in Halo, GOT, HOTD, Star Wars or any other fandoms

Don’t be afraid to ask about shipping, crackshipping, HCS, drabbles, fics or one shots. I’m all about writing and having a good time! OCS and canons are all welcome!

Feel free to inbox me or just write a random starter on my page. Thanks for reading and May The Force be with you!

#role playing #tumblr rp #indie blog #star wars #star wars legends #halo #hotd #gotrp #scifi rp #fantasy rp

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gamersenquirers · 1 year

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When it comes to Xbox games, it doesn’t get any bigger than Halo. The flagship game of the Xbox console redefined the FPS genre and is undoubtedly one of the most popular video game franchises of the modern era. Master Chief and his signature green armor is one of the most iconic characters of the gaming industry. Despite possibly being a rip-off of either Doom Guy or Samus, or maybe both.

However, the franchise hasn’t been doing so hot in the last couple of years, with Halo 5 solidifying the claim of many fans that the Halo series has fallen off since 343 Industries took over and is fast approaching a tragic space burial. But with the release of Halo infinite on 15th November 2021, Xbox nerds can rejoice once again as most gamers and critics agree that Infinite was a return to form for the ailing franchise. Which is more than can be said for the Halo TV series on Paramount plus, which garnered a butt lot of nerd rage with the weird Master Chief sex scene.

Is Halo Infinite really as good as everyone says it is or were gamers so desperate for a good Halo game, they would take whatever they could get their paws on? I’ve played several hours of Halo Infinite already, and my opinion on the game just might shock you. Stay tuned for this exciting, nail-biting review of Halo Infinite!

In today's video we look at #Halo Infinite review ...Keep watching to see: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gYiJkQHi3zQ

#Action-adventure game #Role-playing video game #Strategy video game #Video game culture #Halo Infinite Campaign review #Halo Infinite: Single Player Campaign review #Halo Infinite multiplayer review

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hoseoksluna · 3 months

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WINE | jjk

pairing: fuck buddy!jungkook x f. reader

genre: smut

word count: 4.7k

summary: both of you have a party to go to, but jungkook makes you needy again.

playlist: it's jeon time / pinterest board: wine

warnings: forced drinking, neck kissing, dom/sub dynamics, use of pet names and one particular title <3, degradation and praise, reader has daddy issues (like the writer), sensual dancing, dirty talk, spanking, oral sex (f. receiving), fingering, orgasm denial, squirting, rough sex, plushie used during intercourse, hair pulling, jungkook needing to be in control, the importance of dom/sub role-play being just a role-play and not extending past the sex practice, aftercare

note: this was meant to be a fluff fic with jimin but then jungkook x calvin klein happened and i was fucked. my libido was awakened by that man, my ovulation triggered by his seductiveness and fucking godly beauty. this might be tmi, but i genuinely felt turned on while writing this, so i hope you enjoy. my bestie who always reads my work first said that my jungkook fics are vastly different from the ones with other members, and i agree. the sole reason behind it is the simple fact that jungkook owns my sexuality. so, yeah. please, show some love in the comments. happy reading!!

side note: HAPPY BDAY HOBI ᡣ𐭩

“A bit tipsy, aren’t we?”

You’re twirling. Twirling in golden circles as the late afternoon sunset traces the curves of your figure with its fingers, giving willingly a brisk dose of vigor to the movement as your delicately tousled curls spin around you. The warm light hits the shimmer on the highest points of your cheeks—coalesces with the glitter and you smile at the sun, fluttering your eyes shut. The ardent giggle spilling out of the mouth of your close friend is the music you dance to, and it helps your smile to grow in width.

You have somewhere to be. Both of you do. But you deem this is more important—it is your pregame after all, even though the wine glass in your hand is empty. Small drops of the white nectar make traces on the parquet floor, leaving behind the evidence of your joy, light as a feather somewhere within you.

Freshly showered, Jungkook watches the show you put on for him. With one shoulder, he leans against the large wardrobe and rolls his sleeves upwards on his forearms, wrists adorned with golden bracelets that tinkle with each effort. He does it slowly, blindly. Prefers to focus on you, and not on the task he’s done too many times. You face him, aware of his warm gaze, and you lean your glass towards his chest, tilting your head to the side.

“Barely,” you say. “Had one glass. Have another one with me?”

Jungkook smiles fondly, dropping his eyes to his wrists as he fixes the stacking of the thick gold. The cherry wood accentuates his countenance in a way that magnetically pulls you closer to him. Your legs act on their own, feet making their way to his. Something about the way they are shod in shiny dress shoes and yours are bare, toenails painted in cotton candy pink, drives a certain scarlet hue to go mad upon your dew-kissed face. Or maybe it’s the fact you two fucked hardly an hour ago that does it. You’ve always liked the scene, in which you’re naked and he’s fully dressed. Or it’s your ever persistent daddy issues and your obsession with Lolita. Maybe it’s a mixture of both.

You notice a ring on his pinky finger as he sweeps his ebony hair back. It wasn’t there when he had those digits wrapped around your throat in missionary. You take his inked hand to get a closer look, noticing the engraving of his last name. His father must have the same one. You caress it with your thumb. Its yellow gleam seeps into your skin—illuminates you and envelops you in its aura, fixing a heavenly halo above your head. You find yourself smiling when you look up at him and find that he’s been gazing down at you the whole time, his very own angel.

“If I were to have a glass of wine with you,” he mutters, and the mischievous twinkle that appears in his eyes excites you in a way that angels shouldn’t be provoked. “Then, there would be no party to go to.”

You know what he means, but you play dumb. You want to hear him say it.

“How so?” you ask and you widen your eyes softly to appear more alluring. You’re not sure if your body would handle another round, but you do enjoy the teasing—you enjoy the talk, the chase, the fuzzy feelings in your tummy.

Jungkook straightens and reaches for the bottle on the coffee table four steps away from you. Sinks the body of the glass onto his palm, pouring a good amount of the liquid inside. Nibbles his bottom lip as he stalks towards you, handing you the nectar, although he doesn’t let go. Your fingers wrap around his and it’s him who does the first move—lifting his arm to tilt the glass to your mouth. He’s gentle, a safe distance away to watch his whimsy unfold, but firm. He doesn’t lower his hand until the spillage of the gilded liquid trickles down your throat. Only then does he chuckle, setting the glass down. Satisfied.

Dizziness stirs your mind and you hardly have time to take a breather before Jungkook latches his mouth onto your wine-stained neck, tongue coming out to play—cleaning you up in figure eights that cause you to roll your eyes back. The ends of your curls tickle the back of his hand as he brushes his fingers along the dip of your spine, the skin bare in the open back of your knitted dress—made perfect for his sly touches.

He doesn’t press you against his body when he begins to suck on your neck; he still keeps the distance. Perhaps to make you needy, perhaps to make you ask for more. And it’s working, the magnetic pull does its thing once more and you roll your chest against his, aching to fit in the spaces of his figure that you know full well are there for you to hide in. Your nipples perk up at the slight attention, and electrifying sparks glide down the perimeters of your form in a way that you wish his hands would.

Absentmindedly, you touch them and Jungkook notices as he switches to the other side of your neck, the more sensitive one, the one that always leaves you dripping with your essence. You let him know, vocally, how much you like him there, and the sounds of pleasure you utter into his ear force him to pull out his phone from his pocket, steal your hand from your breast and place it in your palm.

He withdraws with a pop, plump lips coming to trace the shell of your ear. “I think we need some music,” he whispers, fingers skimming the curve of your ass. “Can you play some? Can you do that for me?”

Oh, that degradation kink of his. He knows he flung you out of his world into a pretty pink planet somewhere out there in the universe with that skilled tongue of his. He knows how dumb you get when horniness flushes your body with heat—he knows it intimately, for he’s the one who fucks you, the one you give yourself to when you blossom with the need to do so. He’s the one who opens the petals one by one, never to tear them, but to smell them, kiss them, hover them over the tender skin of his face just to be close to you. He knows you and he knows how to play with you just how you like it.

And you like to get into this state of mind. You like to be degraded, even though you’ll never admit it. You particularly like to get degraded by Jungkook.

Because of that reason, he likes to awaken it in you, beckon it to come out. How he found out is beyond your understanding. You reckon he sensed it while having your orgasms in his control. Somewhere in that dynamic, he found a little nook of a library and its contents fell into his grasp when he sank his fingers inside of you. All he had to do was read. And, also, listen.

Your bodily and vocal reactions didn’t protest.

You can’t even see his lockscreen, the numbers as you type in his mother’s birthday because Jungkook begins to toy with your earlobe, nibbling at the flesh ever so slightly. The pleasure, the wine getting into your head—it’s all suddenly too much. Paradoxically, you find the app somehow without looking out of a habit you learned throughout the months you’ve been casually seeing him, for Jungkook never fucks without his ‘It’s Jeon Time’ sex playlist. And he always wants you to pick out the first song.

It impacts what he does to you later.

You scroll and you tap on a random song.

No BS by Chris Brown.

You return the phone and Jungkook begins to pepper soft kisses on your throat, pocketing the device. A sudden throbbing on your bundle of nerves makes you tenderly whine and in your head, you curse him out for making you needy again. He pretends not to hear you, making a way to your chin. He kisses it. Ghosts his lips over yours, puckers them to tease you and hums in appreciation for the song. You grab him everywhere you can. Hair, neck, shoulders. Squeezing. As if he hadn’t fucked the soul out of you earlier. As if you weren’t spent. And he just laughs.

No matter how soft the sound is, it forces all of the peach fuzz on your body to rise.

Oh, you’ve made him horny. You’re fucked.

No party for you.

“Good little girl,” he coos, grabbing your ass and pulling you flush to his body. The praise before the degradation—the calm before the storm. “Can always expect the best from you. You never fail to please me.”

His hardness greets you first, pressed torturously against your mound. You mewl at the feeling, but he silences you. His lips are second to say a playful hello as they delve into a firm kiss, hand grasping your hair in his fist. He inhales against you and before the two of you know it, you’re moving your bodies to the slow, sensual rhythm of the song. Jungkook kisses you again, parts your lips with his and slips his tongue inside.

Just to taste you, briefly.

He spins you around.

Towering over you, he wraps his arms around your middle and sways with you, pushing your hair to one side, so he can focus on your neck once more. Gliding his lips up and down your neck, nose nuzzling into the safe space there near your ear, he inhales again, your scent being the translucent ship that gets him to heavenly places he dreams of every now and then. He guides you with his hips, needing to be in control of everything, even of something as insignificant as a simple, intimate dance. You love it, you could never get enough of it. The stability being the foundation that holds it is what attracts you to it, the stability that you never had, the one that your inner child deserves.

Palms flat on your tummy, Jungkook drifts them down and stops at your hips, fingers reaching your mound.

“Those hips will be the death of me,” he murmurs, caressing your sides while continuing guiding you, pressing you just right against his prominent length. “Did you really expect me not to get hard seeing you dance like that?”

You bite your lip, furrowing your eyebrows, rotating your hips to the chorus of the song, head empty.

Jungkook grunts. The sound intoxicates you even more.

“My princess doesn’t really know what she’s doing to me, does she?” He hooks his fingers under the hem of your dress. “Too horny, too needy to think, hm?”

Shamelessly, you nod. “Want you again. Want to feel you inside of me.”

Jungkook hums, then breaks into a gentle laughter. Lifts your garment and lets his fingers roam on your clothed folds, the white fabric drenched in your dewiness—pellucid enough to show the beauty of your flesh.

Aware of how wet you are, he clicks his tongue. “You filthy girl, how many times do I have to fuck you in order for you to have enough?”

You grow silent. Brimming with a woozy desire, you opt to grind your ass against him again. Your brain cannot come up with any smart answer that would please him, so this is the best you could do. Jungkook curses under his breath, leans back to watch you. He meets each and every movement of your hips and completes them, creating waves that spur the butterflies in your belly to life.

“Filthy”—He spanks you—“Fucking”—Another spank—“Girl.”

Knees bent, Jungkook grinds against your core, cutting short your hissing. He turns you around and bends you against the wardrobe, places your hands flat on the cherry wood. Takes off your panties swiftly and lets them pool by your ankles. Spanks you below your ass cheek, moaning at the lift and ripple of your plumpness. Does it again on the other one, letting out a sound that makes your dewiness, similarly like the wine down the sides of your neck, leak and stick to your inner thighs. Something between a dark chuckle, a moan and a purr of endearment.

“What am I to do with such a greedy girl like you?” he says, fingers tracing each curve of your ass to etch the memory of it deeper into his brain. “You deserve to be fucked like this. Mercilessly, for my pleasure. Like the little slut you are. But I’ll be good to you.”

He pushes your left inner thigh, guiding you to spread your legs. Cups your pussy, digits spreading your essence all over you.

“I’ll be good to you because you just can’t help it, can you? Poor little baby is just a slut for this cock.”

You mewl at his words, but then you discover that he didn’t lubricate your cunt for you, but for himself.

You yelp when you feel his tongue right there on the softness of your inner thigh, licking up a stripe to drink you. You didn’t expect him to do it so quickly and your whines increase in volume when Jungkook buries his head in your pussy, the deft muscle swirling around your pulsating bundle, licking between your folds and teasing around your hole. You push your hips back, wanting him there more than ever, but he spanks you, bites your flesh before he soothes the pain with his kisses. Big kisses as he calls them, the ones with full tongue. The nasty, the dirty. Big kisses for big girls with experience—those he teaches.

Jungkook stands up and wraps his fingers around your jawline, holding you like that as he draws closer to your ear.

“Looks like you can’t go out with your little pussy wet like that and those pretty panties soiled like they are, can you?” He turns your head so you look at him and you let him see your star-filled eyes, damp with the cosmos. “What would they think of you?”

“Koo,” you cry out.

He purrs in mock sympathy. “I left you alone for what, half an hour? And your pussy is needy again. That’s not right, is it? You should stop and think about this. Daddy’s not fixing it for you.”

As if he hadn’t spoken a word, he sinks his fingers inside of you. Middle and ring. Jackhammers them until you scream, then he pulls them out and spanks your pussy once, twice. With all four of his digits, he rubs the entirety of your femininity, sloppily and rapidly, the drops of your essence joining the company of the drying wine on the parquet floor. You’re seeing white, your orgasm inches away from you.

“Jungkook, please, don’t stop—” Your mouth rounds, voice breaks into a moan. “I’m gonna come, please, please—”

He withdraws his fingers. Entire body, too. Like a starved animal, head tipped low, he stares you down.

You struggle to catch your breath, swallowing dryly, leaning your head against your forearms.

“You said—you said you’d be good to me,” you croak out, throat dry, eyes lidding, mind absolutely fucked out.

“I am.”

The meaning of his words eludes you, but you soon forget about thinking when he licks his fingers clean. Wraps those pretty, puffy pillows around his slender fingers and sucks them. Then, he undoes the few buttons left of his ebony shirt, slowly and precisely. You clench around nothing, walls pressing together tightly. You’d slip a finger inside if you weren’t holding the side of the wardrobe for dear life.

“Get on the bed, now,” he orders. “Leave the dress on. Panties, too. I’ll show everyone how much of a little slut you are.”

Without a second thought, you do as he says.

You sit down on the edge of the bed and spread your legs as wide for him as the undergarment enfolding your thighs allows you, the ivory material pulled taut—your dewiness on show. Jungkook walks into the room like he has all the time in the world, like you aren’t gripping the flesh of your sides in order not to touch yourself. His shirt is fully unbuttoned now and the fabric lets you see a slither of his defined abdomen and fine black pubic hair peeking out of his Calvins due to how low his slacks are fixed on his hips. You lick your lips, dig half-moons into your skin until your knuckles turn white.

You need him. You need him so much that tears pool within the cosmos of your eyes.

“If only they were to see you right now,” he mutters. “So desperate for me. It’s too bad only I get to see you like this, isn’t it?”

He worsens your desire with that mouth of his. It’s extreme. You scratch your nails down your thighs to relieve yourself at least a little bit.

Fists on each side of you, Jungkook leans towards you. His simple gold chain swings in your face and you bite your lip to keep your needy mewls at bay.

“Am I talking to myself?”

You shake your head ‘no’.

“Did you forget how to talk?” He cocks his eyebrow.

“I need you so bad. I can’t take it anymore,” you whine out, the best your brain could muster.

Jungkook puckers his lips at you in feigned sympathy again and you expect the worst to come out of his mouth, but he surprises you when he says, “what do you want me to do to you?”

You gasp almost soundlessly. Your heart skips in your chest happily. Fire of the starlight shines in your eyes and a brand new flush finds its way to your cheeks, hotter than the one from earlier when you were dancing with the sun. Before you can think you answer through, it slips out of you.

“Lick my pussy, please.”

Jungkook smirks and the blush of roses smears across his cheeks and nose as well. He wipes at his mouth as if your answer made him drool—cuts the anticipation and kneels down at the bed, pushing your legs back.

“Who am I to deny you?”

The butterflies within your tummy go berserk.

Tongue flat, he licks up your cunt. Over and over, lapping up your wetness, moaning, seizing your girlishness and rolling it over in his mouth. You tip your head back between your shoulder blades and your arms begin to shake, holding all of your weight. Like you were previously grinding against him, you do the same movement now into his face. Recreate the waves as he rides his tongue against your clit.

He stops when you catch his gaze.

You cry out for him, bucking your hips. He shakes his head, eyes never leaving yours. His puffy lips glint in the dimmed light, the sun rays seconds away from saying their final goodbye.

“Needy little whore.”

Jungkook flicks at your little seashell, wraps those pillows around the muscle out of habit, but decides against it. Denies you the pleasure, knows too well you come too quickly from the suction. Decides to flutter his tongue instead, the pressure light, making you tremble like a butterfly wing. Retracts. Starts the torture again, alternating between light and hard. Fucks with your brain. Fucks with you.

“This feels too good, Daddy, oh my god.”

You watch him at work, mouth parted open, sounds of gratification coming out freely. He’s never done this to you before. It’s new, it’s different and it feels otherworldly; it feels like he’s transporting you back to pink planet again. The faint pleasure, the build up, the hard intensity at last before he starts again. He pins your hips down to prevent you from getting ahead, lidded eyes zeroing on yours, and the cord in your belly tightens. You near to the edge, gusts of gasps and ragged breaths flowing out of your mouth.

“I’m coming, Daddy, I’m coming, oh fuck.”

The harsh light of stars comes down slowly upon your eyesight. You’re almost there. You roll your hips to meet his tongue one last time, despite the deathly grip he has on your hip bones, but he lifts his head. Rips the orgasm away from you.

“No.” He wipes his mouth with his hand.

Your vision blurs and frustration burns you hot.

“What?”

“You’re not coming.”

You stare at him, eyelashes flittering. At loss for words.

“We have a party to go to, don’t we?”

You scrunch up your eyebrows. You thought you weren’t going anywhere?

“And if you’re good, I’ll think about letting you come tonight.”

Your mouth falls open.

“Close it before I fuck it.”

He cups your chin, closing it for you. Wraps his fingers around your throat and pushes you back on the mattress. Your hair fans all around you and you hold your clothed breasts for emotional support, your brain not really registering that you’re getting fucked and that you’re not allowed to cum. You sob tearlessly at his cruelty, lifting your head to look at him.

Jungkook unzips his slacks. Doesn’t bother to lower them, only pulls out his heavy length out of the tight confines of his boxers. His precum shines prettily on his mushroom and he spreads it all around him, jacking himself off, grunting, groaning, throwing his head back. All while being completely ignorant to your inner turmoil.

“Look at what you’ve done to me,” he whispers, letting go of his cock to show you just how hard he is.

Your head spins. His tip reaches his belly button and the thickness of his shaft obscures most of his pubic hair. You moan, aching to have him inside of you. Feel your slick trickle down onto the bedding.

“So hot,” you say, lifting your eyes to catch him focused on the reactions painted on your face with his bottom lip sucked between his teeth, chest heaving quickly. “You’re so beautiful.”

Abruptly, Jungkook flops you onto your stomach. Crawls over you. Straddles you. Veiny forearms, partly shielded by the waterfall of your hair, come to stay on either side of your head.

He reaches for the white bunny plushie resting against the pillows and hands him to you. Brushes your hair away from your face to whisper into your ear, “you better hold onto him.”

You clutch him to your chest and bury your face in his soft fur.

“Remember the rule?” he asks and you feel him drag the tip of his cock down the line of your ass—you feel him stop at your tight hole.

Your breath shakes. “I can’t come.”

Body reacting on its own, hips lifting, you allow him to glide down to your pussy.

Jungkook hums in appreciation. “That’s right. Look at you, so good for me already.”

He chuckles darkly and you hate your life.

“You only know how to behave yourself when you want to come, don’t you? Such a slut.”

He punctuates his sentence by sheathing himself inside of you. You grip your plushie tight, groaning into his fur. He does it all in one go, not stopping once to let you adjust around him. He huffs against your hair, mocks your sound, eyelashes fluttering at your tightness, mouth agape. It’s otherworldly how he fits. It’s otherworldly how you can make out his expression, how you see it clearly behind your closed eyelids—how him mocking you and imitating you makes you drip even more, the lewdness of your juices encouraging him to go balls-deep.

He rams into you.

You scream into the bunny.

He rams into you in staccatos, the headboard of the bed colliding over and over again into the wall. Swift jerks. Hard.

You feel so full.

“Slutty fucking pussy,” he whispers, gathers all of your hair into his fist and pulls your head back. Begins to fuck you evenly, picking up the pace. “So tight around Daddy, fuck.”

You must be floating. Somewhere out there within that pink planet. All your surroundings are bleary, distorted, but so vibrant. Just as your hair is pulled back so are your wings retracted in the same way, held by your captor. You feel his lips at your temple, parted, breath hot and heavy. You can’t even hear yourself amidst your pleasure and his, but somehow—all of a sudden—you hear the voice of your favorite singer echoing in the living room.

Do I Wanna Know by the Arctic Monkeys.

Little by little, you feel yourself returning back to planet Earth. Drool wets the corners of your mouth and you don’t have the strength to wipe it off, focusing all of your strength on stalling your orgasm, the voice of your beloved Alex pushing against you in a fight.

Jungkook lets go of your hair, but wraps the same arm around your shoulders, plushie and neck, his weight coming on top of yours. Continues to slam into you without any care of the world, heedless of the way you’re fighting for your life.

“If I’m not mistaken, this is your song, baby, isn’t it?” he breathes into your ear, slowing down his pace, hips rocking against you to the rhythm.

You sob at the mercy, the ferocity of your incoming orgasm dwindling away.

That is until he starts pounding you into the mattress again.

You scream out. White vision begins to chase you again, the cord tightening in your full lower tummy.

“Jungkook, please, I can’t—I can’t—”

He grunts at your helplessness, hand gripping your mouth. Pace so fast your head knocks back into his shoulder.

“You can take it. It’s your song.” He squeezes your cheeks. Grinds his hips slowly. You roll your eyes back, feeling him nudge your cervix.

He begins to kiss along your jawline, your earlobe, the contours of the shell. You do the same, peppering kisses upon his forearm as your position allows you.

“We could be together, if you wanted to,” he huffs the lyrics into your ear, just for you to hear.

The cord snaps.

Wetness gushes out of you; a sweet stream of your dewiness forces him to pull out of you—and your wet orgasm triggers his. He paints your open back white with his hot spurts of cum, sealing you, completing you. Jacks himself off with one hand while the other rubs your pussy, spanking it. You’re squirming, screaming, the orgasm long and so intense that you don’t even know where you are. Jungkook fingers you with three digits and coaxes another surge out of you. Slacks destroyed, dress soiled, bodies spent—your screams silent.

He caresses the roundness of your ass to calm you down.

“Breathe for me, baby,”

You try, but you can’t.

Too exhausted.

You feel him leave, but in a moment you sense the mattress dipping beside you. The coldness of wet wipes on your skin, getting rid of the evidence of his pleasure. The warmth of his thumb on the tear-stained skin under your eyes as he turns you to your side.

A glass of cold water is in his hand. You suddenly feel parched. His touch brought your senses back to you.

“Sit up.”

You finish the glass in gulps. Some of it leaks down your throat. Jungkook smirks.

“Well done.”

You hug your plushie tighter. “I’m sorry for coming.”

Jungkook caresses your hair. You’re sitting on your legs while he’s standing by the side of the bed. Running his fingers through your disheveled, ruined curls.

“I fucked you that hard on purpose,” he murmurs, curling a strand of hair behind your ear, finger coming to a stop at the beginning of the line of your jaw. “It was my intention to make you come.”

You lean into his touch. Kiss the edge of his palm. Drowsy, droopy eyes still bearing into his.

“Like I said. You did well.” He presses a kiss to your forehead. “Arms up.”

He takes off your dress and slinks your arms through the sleeves of his black shirt that he had discarded while fucking you. Your eyelids are shut when he lays you down on the cold side of the bed, tucking you in, and you’re halfway through the footpath to your pink planet when he promises, “I’ll make it up to you about that party.”

BACK to masterlist / read part two

#jungkook x oc #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook smut #bts smut #bts imagine #jungkook imagine #jeon jungkook #bts scenarios #jungkook scenarios #jungkook fluff #btscreatorscorner #kpop smut #jungkook one shot

2K notes · View notes

dulcesiabits · 8 days

Text

vestigial structures.

summary: With a man like Sunday, it's always best to keep a certain distance. Still, what can you do when he tries to bridge the gap?

notes: 2.9k words, author notes, power play, boss/employee dynamic, mentions of injuries, very messy relationship

On the surface, Sunday is the perfect employer.

He’s strict and exacting about the most minute details, but his criticism is never personal. He’s fair with his employees, and the paychecks are never late and always generous. He’s agreeable and amiable, and knows all of his employees by name and occupation, his smile always pleasant when he stops to converse.

Even if your coworkers grumble about his harsh demands or the late nights, their heads still perk up with the rare praise he throws out, like dogs to a bone. You have to admit that Sunday is smart in that way, knowing just when to push and pull with people.

Yes, all your coworkers can say that because none of them work as closely with Sunday as you do. You’ve never given him room to complain about your conduct; you’re silent, loyal, and meticulous, all traits that Sunday prizes in his close staff. Maybe it helps that you’ve been here since the beginning, when Sunday was just getting his footing as head of the Family.

He keeps you close, which means you’ve had time to see the way he raises his hand to cover his smile in front of a terrified employee, the barely restrained tension in his lax body posture when he negotiates deals, how he lovingly moves around all the people in Penacony like chess pieces, watching them fall right where he wants them to without their knowing.

Sunday is like a beautiful dream: perfectly constructed and dazzling, but you know too much about what goes under the surface to buy into his sweet words and polite gestures, all the greasy wires and gears.

Every movement is perfectly calculated. And as long as you play your part and fulfill the role he sets out for you, you can just cash in your paycheck at the end of the month and never have to worry about him beyond that.

It’s how you’ve survived so far with a man like him, after all. The perfect dance, a measured distance and precise footwork you’ve long since memorized: you know just how to skirt around all the little games Sunday likes to play without losing yourself.

“This is the paperwork for today,” Sunday says. You never talk in his office more than you need to; all chatter is whittled down to the necessities. “It’s the architectural plans for our recent expansion of the casino.”

“I’ll have it filled out by the end of the day,” you say, skimming through the file. Color-coded and carefully organized by priority: it’s nothing less than what you expect from him.

“There’s an upcoming meeting with a merchant group in a few days, too, for potential trade deals.”

“I’ll be in charge of that,” you say automatically. “You should focus on managing the projects in the Dreamscape. The expansion will take a majority of your attention.”

Sunday nods, steepling his fingers together, lost in some thought or another. You wait patiently in front of his desk, folders clutched to your chest, face impassive. It’s only another two hours before you can clock out.

His gaze flicks to you, sharp and assessing, but for what, you aren’t sure. You straighten, leveling your shoulders, returning his stare with a cool look of your own.

“Is your work too much?” Sunday asks, voice even.

His words are unexpected, and your eyebrows furrow, just a fraction. Sunday catches it before you can school your expression, and you curse internally at the curve of his lips. What sort of trick is this? You don’t have any script for this unexpected turn of events.

What answer is he expecting from you? His halo gleams like a liquid sun behind him, and the gold fills your vision.

“It’s nothing that I’m not capable of handling,” you say, phrasing each word delicately, watching his expression. No change. “I’m honored to do this work for the prosperity of Penacony.”

Sunday nods, once. “I see.”

You smile at him, the practiced one you give clients. “Will that be all, sir? I don’t think you need to worry. I have proved myself before, have I not?”

Sunday stands from his seat, reaching his hand out to you. What the hell is he doing? Just when you think he’s going to cup your cheek, his hand drifts down and he brushes something off your shoulder.

There’s something pinched in his fingers: a piece of gray thread.

“Make sure you’re following the dress code. You know I abhor messes and people who don’t follow the rules,” Sunday says pleasantly, but there’s frost under his tone.

“I’ll be careful, sir,” you say.

Did something about your answer upset him? Is this an implicit threat? Or is he really just pissed about your supposedly sloppy attire, even though the rest of your uniform is starched and neat, just the way he likes it?

Well, it’s not your job to understand your boss’s mercurial moods. The less you associate or think about Sunday, the better.

Before you head out the door, Sunday calls out to you. “You’re one of my most valued employees. Make sure you keep up the good work. I’d like to work with you for as long as possible.”

The door shuts behind you, leaving you with one last glance of Sunday’s genial smile. But even with a layer of wood between you, you swear you can still feel his eyes on your back.

Despite the strangeness of your meeting with Sunday, the next few days proceed as smoothly as clockwork. Sunday keeps your exchanges brief and professional, and you’re far too busy with your work to figure out the reasoning behind every action he takes.

At least everything is going well until you find yourself limping down the hallway, mumbling curses under your breath, a wound lacerating your calf. Luckily, there’s no one around to witness your humiliation, and you’ve managed to swap your ruined uniform with a spare you keep on hand. Sunday, as he so loves to remind you, abhors messes, and you can’t imagine what he’ll do if he discovers you’ve dirtied the hotel with your blood.

You lean against the wall, hissing, as pain shoots up your leg. Injuries on the job are inconvenient, more so when they’re caused by meetings gone wildly wrong. You should have expected it, working at Penacony as long as you have, but merchant groups pulling out their weapons when negotiations turn sour isn’t something you’re quite fond of dealing with.

At least you have no other injuries, despite having left the meeting room in shambles. The paperwork you’re going to need to fill out over this incident is going to be a pain in the ass, but as long as you get somewhere safe, you can dress your wounds and put the entire thing behind you.

Sharp steps echo down the hall in front of you, and you straighten instinctively. Out of the shadows steps your boss, the last person you want to see in a moment like this. You grit your teeth and put on a cordial smile, keeping your eyes to the floor, trying to keep your steps even. One foot in front of the other, even if your body protests at the exertion.

Sunday is the one man you can’t show weakness in front of.

The edges of his patent shoes stop right in front of you. “Good afternoon,” Sunday says pleasantly. “How did your meeting go?”

“There was an unexpected occurrence,” you say. “I’ll file a report about it later, but it’s been handled. Suffice to say, we won’t have any dealings with them.”

Sunday still doesn’t move, and you risk tilting your head up to gauge his mood. His hands are folded in front of him. You can’t make out the expression in his eyes. “How unfortunate.”

“If that’s all, sir, I’ll be–” Sunday’s hand shoots out and grabs your elbow the second you try to take a step around him.

“You’re limping,” he says softly, pleasantly, like a trap springing shut. His fingers dig through your suit fabric and into your skin. “What exactly happened?”

“I’ll tell you in the report. It’s nothing major.”

A short laugh escapes Sunday. “I don’t appreciate my employees lying to me.”

“I’m not lying,” you protest, a thread of annoyance working its way into your tone, a hairline fracture in your composure. “I just judged that something like this wasn’t worth reporting.”

Sunday’s hair tickles your face like feathers as he leans in close to you, his lips almost brushing your ear. He still hasn’t let you go. “You’re not the judge of what’s worth reporting. I am.”

“Sir–”

“You need medical attention,” he says, tugging your arm around his waist. You jerk back, but his grip is iron. “What are you doing? It’ll be easier on you if you can lean on me.”

“It’s inappropriate for me to touch you like this.”

“Proprietary has nothing on your wounds,” he says, and you reluctantly settle your arm around his waist, fingers loosely gripping the turn of his hip. He’s right, but you hate how it feels like you’re playing along with one of his ploys. But not even he could have predicted the outcome of the meeting, right? Sunday’s arm descends along your back, holding you steady as the two of you slowly move along the darkened hallway.

You end up in a supply room just around the corner, out of sight from anyone and lit by the warm glow of lights above you. Stacks of crates and boxes line the shelves, but there’s a narrow table and a pair of chairs, one of which Sunday helps you settle into.

He moves around the room with practiced familiarity, pulling a medical supply box from one of the shelves. He flicks it open, rummaging through the supplies. And then, Sunday kneels in front of you, his knees hitting the dusty ground, his hands outstretched towards you like a prayer.

But what can a man like him ever want from you? Only something you can never give.

“You don’t have to do this.”

His hands ghost along your leg, the fabric of your gray slacks creasing as Sunday slides them up to reveal the gash on your leg. It’s unthinkable, normally. Your boss is meticulous on the minute details of your uniform, and you’ve seen employees reprimanded for having their collars an inch too low. But here he is now, ruining the symmetry he values himself.

His gloved fingers skate along the skin of your calf, the pressure so light you almost can’t feel it, drawing your attention back to him. He cradles your ankle with one hand as he examines your wound. He’s still kneeling in front of you, his head ducked so low you can’t make out his expression, only the fringe of his eyelashes.

It’s wrong. It’s wrong to see Sunday like this, because even when he’s gentle, reverential and at your feet, you know the second you believe in him, you’ll lose. Submission and honesty from a man like him is never willingly given.

“I don’t have to, but it would only be right when you were hurt due to my carelessness,” Sunday says.

“It was my fault for not being careful. It has nothing to do with you,” you say. “Besides, this is unprofessional, considering our working relationship.”

His hand tightens on your ankle like a vice. “I’m not doing this as your employer.”

Sunday doesn’t look up once as he dabs disinfectant-soaked cotton along your wound. You hiss at the sting, as Sunday presses harder than you expect. The bandages that go around your calf are wrapped neatly, pulled tightly to the edge of pain. It feels like a chastisement, or a punishment, for the unwillingness of your earlier actions.

Your blood flecks Sunday’s gloves as he works, staining his pristine clothes. The two of you share a similar uniform, distinct from most of your other coworkers. The same dark vest, the same dove gray slacks and white suit jacket, the same golden enamels and blue accents. It’s almost like he’s trying to dress you up in his clothes, to mark you in some indelible way.

You dig your nails into your palms until you think you can cut into your own skin. From the beginning, you’ve never been able to escape the games he’s always playing.

Sunday still kneels on the floor, holding your ankle in his hand like a delicate bird. He pulls down the leg of your slacks himself, the fabric rustling as it covers the fresh bandages on your calf.

“Be more careful next time,” he says.

Right now, while he’s still beneath you, you could reach out and tug his hair, grip his chin and make him look level at you, force him to kneel forever and press him into the ground. But even if you do, it’ll still feel like something Sunday has let happen.

Penacony is a chessboard, and you’re just another piece in his hands.

“You said you’re not doing this as my employer. What are you doing this as?” you say, pushing back your chair, leaping up. Your leg moans in protest, but you ignore the searing pain to stand in front of Sunday.

“What do you think?” he says, his face serene. “You’re clever. I’m sure you know.”

You whirl your head in disgust, heading towards the door. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

His eyes burn into your back as you go, watching you. Always watching you, because you can never escape his presence, the eyes he has all over this damn place.

When you stride into Sunday’s office the next day, the wound on your calf burns with every step you take. There hasn’t been enough time for it to heal. Your uniform, as always, is pristine, the slacks creased just so, the wrinkles nonexistent.

Sunday barely looks up from his desk as you slide a folder in front of him. There’s a pen in his hand, poised above a sheaf of papers he thumbs through.

“You finished your report rather early,” he remarks.

“That’s because it’s not a report. It’s my resignation.”

His grip on his pen tightens, enough so that you wonder if he’s going to break it. The tranquil expression on his face doesn’t change, but there’s a wrinkle in his facade. A twitch of his eyebrow, a slight turn of his mouth. Subtle signs of his unhappiness that only you can see. After all, you’ve known him long enough that he can’t hide from you, not completely.

“Is there something unsatisfactory about your current position?” he says evenly. “The pay, perhaps? The vacation days? The hours?”

“Those are all fine. I’ve just been thinking I need a change of pace,” you say lightly, tapping your fingers on his desk. His eyes track your every movement.

“I’d hate to lose a valuable employee like yourself. You won’t find a better place to work than Penacony.”

“I know. You value Family above all else. But it makes me wonder what will happen if I’m not a part of yours.” You smile at him. His own smile tightens. You’ve never been so forward with him before, would never have risked it. You have no script for this, but neither does he. “This is a place where everyone’s dreams come true. But what’s your dream, Sunday?”

His jaw twitches at your casual address. “My dream? I wish to see Penacony prosper.”

It’s such a stock answer you could laugh. It’s what Sunday tells everyone, the picture perfect answer he can print in newspapers and feed to interviewers.

“That’s a good answer.” You lean across his desk. “You know, I’ve always been fond of birds. But the best way to keep one by your side is to make it want to be there, don’t you think? Otherwise, when you open the cage, it’ll fly away. It has to go in the cage willingly.”

“A fascinating observation,” Sunday says. “But you simply shouldn’t open the cage door at all, if you want to keep it by your side. If you provide the bird with everything it wants, then there will be no reason for it to go.”

“Birds are capricious creatures.” You raise your hand, angling it towards the wings that flutter near his head. They tremble at your wandering fingers, but right before you can brush one of his gray feathers, you drop your hand and pick up your resignation file, waving it lazily in the air. “I mean, who knows what they want? Don’t you think maybe the bird tries to fly away because it wants its owner to chase it? It makes you wonder who’s really the one being caged here.”

“I’ve owned birds before. I think I can handle such a thing,” Sunday says sharply.

“I’m sure. You know, maybe my resignation is a little hasty. I think I could stand to stay for a while longer.” Under Sunday’s vigilant eye, you glide towards the door, pulling it open with one hand.

“You shouldn’t do such things in jest,” Sunday calls behind you. You turn to face him. The tension still hasn’t left his shoulders.

“It wasn’t a joke,” you say. “I just changed my mind, that’s all.”

This time, you don’t let your gaze drop away from him, even as the door slams shut between the two of you. The expression on his face, the simmering frustration, the restrained edges of his desire, the way Sunday looks as if he’s the one who’s been trapped— it’s the most beautiful he’s ever been.

You’re starting to understand why Sunday enjoys his little games, but it’s too bad for him. This chess board doesn’t just belong to him anymore.

#liya writes #honkai star rail #sunday #sunday x reader #sunday hsr #x reader #honkai star rail x reader #posting this just before 2.2 hoping it'll hold up LOL #anyways. hes soooo frustrating #i want nothing more than to mess up his smug composure

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rae-writes · 4 months

Text

An Angel?

om demons x reader (+Simeon, Solomon, Mephi, Raph)

wc : 2.k

warnings : more simping bois, more humor, a lot more sprinkles of suggestive comments

synopsis : a deviltok trend has the boys on their knees for you, part two: electric boogaloo

a/n : for the record, Luke was in the room while Mc was making it, cheering them on, doing his cute little “Waahhh!” // idea brought to me by the lovely [your-next-daydream] // AND, as usual, let’s not talk about how ridiculously long this took me to finish ahaha rip me-

demon ver.

<Simeon> Mc looks rather...heavenly, don’t you agree?

[attachment sent]

Intrigued, he wasted no time in clicking on the file, grinning when he realized it was one of your deviltoks. Decked out in your RAD uniform, you sat in a chair with your hands clasped together.

“Who are you?”

Smoothly, almost as if you were floating, you stood and took a few steps towards the camera with a rather shy smile.

“An angel.”

You bowed ever so slightly, flitting your gaze to the floor.

“What’s your name?”

You spun suddenly, sending your red accessory swooshing in front of the camera, covering everything from view.

“Michael.”

As fast as the transition happened, it ended; the view was cleared to reveal you— angelic down to a T and beautiful wasn’t even enough to describe you.

You were adorned with sheer, white clothing that was loose and flowy, probably swaying due to a fan that was off camera. Light blue accents were scattered here and there- including an extension piece in your hair of the same color. Sparkling gold accessories glinted under the light, but not as much as the halo that hovered above your head. It was a gorgeous molten gold tint, partly transparent with glitter floating around inside (with a few cracks decorating the outside of it). It only brought attention to the snowy wings spanning out behind you, flecks of iridescent scattered amongst the feathers.

[9 people saved a video attachment]

Lucifer

Ah. Yes. He’s not combusting on the inside, not at all.

*insert internal screaming*

Ahem. Now that his jaw has been picked up off the floor, he is immediately wondering how the fuck Simeon of all people got access to the video before him

Don’t get him wrong though, he is on the way right now- leave the door open, Mc

He has to put his marks all over your body to get rid of the fact that you looked that pretty while using Michael’s name

Possessive urges aside, please keep the outfit on

Does not care if you’re dressed up like an Angel, he will gladly corrupt you

In fact, he wants to corrupt you- let him see that pact mark of his while you look so angelic, yeah?

might be into role playing it if you’d like

Mammon

Blinks a couple times before looking around slowly; poor boy really thought he’d been yeeted back to the celestial realm for a minute there

It’s all quiet before suddenly everyone in the house (and probably outside) hears “HOLY FUCK WHAT”

You never cease to amaze him, by the devils, is he in love

The blush on his face- if he was anything other than a demon- would look severely concerning. Like no, it’s not a red beacon of light, it’s just him coming through the halls

Is creepin outside ya door practically on his knees. Please let him in. His greed is flared and you’re the only cure even if you’re also the reason

He is dying to have a diy photo shoot of the two of you in your angel fit

Step on him. Do it- it’s the perfect angle, the shot comes out beautifully and he is putting it right in his wallet once it’s developed

Will step on you in return if you ask

You’ll let him kiss all over your body, wontcha, Mc? (he’ll even be gentle with his fangs when he nibbles around that golden necklace you’ve got on)

Levi

*cue his very nervous yet giddy laughter*

This is just like that anime he saw last week called ‘Help! My human s/o just turned into an Angel but I’m a demon and actually kind of into this?!”

Seriously though, you look so beautiful, Levi was immediately down in the floor with his face covered and tail wagging

Please allow 3-4 business months before he can recover

Jk lol he’s hovering in your doorway before you you can even click on his contact

Shyly asks if he can touch your halo and wings (and ends up with his tail wrapped around you, knocking you side to side because it’s still attempting to wag)

Unlike the eldest brother, Levi practically begs you to roleplay this with him and have a cosplay photoshoot

Will shamelessly keep you to himself for the rest of the day and hiss at everyone who gets too close

Please sit on him and call him mean names while also holding him sweetly

Satan

Sign him tf up- he’s got a pen at the ready

Irony aside, Satan thinks you look absolutely stunning— straight out of a fairy tale

Irony not aside, Satan is actually so into this and craves to play it out with you

He was never an Angel to begin with, he was born a demon; just thinking about making your ivory wings turn black makes him excited

Satan understands it’s just a simple spell you’ve casted so he won’t get too out of sorts (but if you like it, then what’s the harm?)

Wants to read a forbidden love trope book and maybe act out some of the scenes while you’re still dressed like that

The hopeless romantic in him is front and center the entire time

If you think he’s gonna let you go now, you’re sorely mistaken— let his brothers try and take you away

He’s got tons of scenarios to act out if you can handle him

Asmo

That weird high pitched sound you hear from across the house that should be something only dogs can hear? Yeah that’s Asmo squealing

Posting your video EVERYWHERE bc everyone needs to see how fucking gorgeous you look

You can hear his footsteps from a mile away as he hurries to your room

He MUST see your outfit in person ASAP

Azzy. Is. So. Fucking. Down. For. This. Shit. He thinks he’s dreamed about this once actually

Please let him just examine every inch of you, he’s begging

Once again his camera is out and ready for a photoshoot and his demon form is out right alongside it

He will be keeping you for the next 24-48 hours thanks

Beel

Choked. Again.

Don’t be alarmed by the loud rumbling sound— it’s not Beel’s stomach for once, but instead a growl

He didn’t mean to make that sound but you just look so— and he just— and you— and and— A a a A A

Has that cute little blush plastered over his face all. day.

Might be tempted- or actually try- to take a bite out of your halo or something else ifykyk

Rewatches the video at least ten times because you're just. Wow. Wow. W O W.

Is now in the mood to eat some celestial realm food with you

though his appetite is half for food and half for you

Pls don’t mind his staring or the way he’s probably drooling a bit, he can’t help it :(

Belphie

“...wait, what?”

Lays there staring at the ceiling for a moment bc PHEW you got him sweating and he hasn’t even moved yet-

Manages a straight face all the way until he enters your room and sees the outfits in person

To which he is, once again, dropping right at your feet with a look of ‘PLEASE’

He needs a whole ass minute or two to catch his breath from how fucking gorgeous you look and then he needs another whole ass minute or two to scan you over again

Please sit on him

Is uncharacteristically stuttering through every sentence— how can he possibly concentrate on stupid words in these [amazing] conditions?!

Gatekeeping you AGAIN

Underneath you the entire. time.

Barbatos

*windows shutdown*

*windows restart*

…aaand we’re back ladies and gentlemen and every cool dude in between but Barbatos is still fucking astonished— absolutely flabbergasted at how badly he’s got it for you

He dropped everything he was carrying in that moment and swiftly picked it back up, hoping no one saw

Diavolo saw. He recorded the entire thing and sent it to you, zooming in on Barbatos’ blush

There’s just something primal in him that makes him want to sink his teeth into you and coil his tail around your body so that you won’t be able to go anywhere else until he lets you

Everyone be damned, Barb will be having you to himself for the entire night

Will also run his fingers along the faux wings and halo before he absolutely ruins you until the magic dissipates

He is…totally normal about the entire thing..

Diavolo

His father help him— Diavolo is so incredibly thankful for the exchange program

Is OUT of the castle at mach speed before Barbatos can even say otherwise

And then he’s speeding right back and summoning you to him instead so he can have you to himself

Mans is kneeling at your fucking feet the second he lays eyes on you

And while it isn’t ‘proper’ for someone who wants unity between all three realms to want to corrupt you—

—he does. So badly. He thinks he might even beg you for it

Also wants to take a picture of the two of you with him in his demon form (it’s the it picture for weeks after he posts it)

Cannot stop looking at your halo; please let him touch it

(If you slowly begin altering your wings to bleed black, he’s practically foaming at the mouth—)

bonus:

Simeon

*sharp inhale* . . . *yeets halo*

He deadass forgets he’s an Angel himself for a few minutes bc he’s too busy simping fawning over you

God who?? Like get tf outta the way, beep beep, archangel on a mission comin through

Is begging as soon as he steps foot through your door. Please, please let him touch you and explore— he should be ashamed with how unabashed he is but fuck look at you

Will let his own wings out just so you can compare your angels forms (melted on the spot when you brushed your wings against his)

Honestly can’t decide if he wants you to corrupt him or if he wants to corrupt you…or both at the same time

He’s not sharing you. Not now. Not like this.

You may look like an angel, and he may be an angel, but he won’t treat you like one tonight

If you do the fancy trick of letting your wings turn black, he’s completely bowing down to whatever you wish right then and there

Solomon

Kinda forgot he was immortal for a split second and wondered if he’d either died or accidentally traveled to the celestial realm

Gains his bearings rather quickly, but the hold you have on him is still very much there

And he’d like you to have a hold around his throat— what? Who said that??

His pretty little blush where he averts his eyes all nervously? YEAH THAT

He’s taken aback for a couple moments before his usual shit eating grin comes back but that blush? Still there.

Backs you against a wall, in a corner, and let’s his hands roam with a small laugh, quietly asking how you manage to make him lose composure so easily

Is so soft and sweet for a minute before his eyes darken and that SEXY smirk crawls onto his face

Plucks that halo right from above your head and tosses it behind his shoulder because how could he possibly do what he has planned if you’re an angel?

Makes your wings bloom black himself (and challenges how long you can handle him)

extra little bonus:

Mephisto

Simply raises a brow and wonders why the hell his body got so hot all the sudden

Ignores the video for a couple hours until he realizes he can’t stop fucking thinking about it

Promptly decides he’s going to go straight to you and demand how dare you invade his thoughts like this

And then promptly decides he’d rather just revert to using his hands instead when the sight of you makes his mouth dry and water at the same time

Will take it upon himself, right then, to corrupt you

Because there’s no way in the seven rings of hell he’s letting you switch sides and he’ll break the magic you’re using as proof

After though *cough cough* he will bashfully tell you how gorgeous you looked…

Raphael

Let me tell you, mans was not ready

Like if you’ve seen the video of the person with a stacked ass on the stretcher being carried by and the news reporter’s face afterwards, that’s Raphael.

Luke takes a picture of his expression and makes a meme

Won’t address it until the very next day, stiffly telling you that your outfit was very pleasing to the eye (he thinks you’re drop dead gorgeous, okay, he’s just struggling)

If you offer to show him in person, he is ascending right back home. Won’t deny, though. Like please do.

In awe for the whole experience

And blushes an alluring deep shade if you show him some ‘corruption’ tricks you have up your sleeve

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sykestarot · 7 months

Text

what attracts people to you?

1-2-3 (left to right)

I do not own any of these images

Hi guys I'm back for this weeks reading! Thanks so much for all the love on the other post it really means a lot! I hope these messages resonate as well. Thanks for stopping by yet again! :)

Pile 1

"Just wondering when you said I'm beautiful, was I being lied to?"

(2 of swords (rx); ace of cups; 5 of swords; 4 of swords (rx); queen of pentacles; 2 of cups (rx)) I’m feeling for you pile one that you don’t believe that you’re attractive at all, energetically or physically. Like people would always prefer someone else other than you. Quite literally how the song title is opposite, you believe people are only attracted to the types of people who are opposite of you. Which is so obviously not true because so many people are attracted to you. I don’t know if you think more people value stability over spontaneity. But your cards imply that you are a free spirit and people love that about you. Not only are you a free spirit but you also are hard working. You aren’t one of those people that says they're a free spirit as an excuse to do nothing. I’m feeling that you carry this abundant energy of like “I want it, I got it”. And people just want to stay in that energy. You also have a resilience that people see and it makes them admire you but also want to learn from you. Your energy is truly so beautiful. I see that you might have long hair with beautiful waves to it. Perhaps you’re tan or have a darker complexion. You’re the type of person who loves doing hikes and smelling the fresh air outside. I also see beaches and a boho style to you. Lots of whites and vibrant blues as well. Perhaps you’re Greek or some type of southern European. I see that you also have doe eyes and people find them to be mesmerizing. As well as your smile. I don't know why you don’t think you’re attractive because the vibes I'm getting are that you’re a stunner!! I hope one day you can learn to appreciate the qualities in yourself that others see! Signs : Athens, Greece, kitties, pasta, the smell of pine orange and vanilla, woven hats, big sunglasses, kites, hang gliders?, laughs, melted ice cream, strawberry scents, lip gloss, glitter, flamingos, Sagittarius

Pile 2

"She's got a halo around her finger around you" (The world; 5 of swords (rx); the high priestess; knight of pentacles (rx); 9 of wands (rx); the hierophant) Pile two you are my pile that knows people are attracted to you and use it to your advantage. Which is so real of you but also so slay. And this is not to say that you use your beauty to gain things in a negative way. It’s more like you know the cards that you were dealt and you’d be damned if you didn't use them. I feel like this is my Scorpio pile. Something about you is mysterious and that entices people to want to get to know you better. I feel like you are like a real life siren. The way you speak or the tone of your voice ensares people and draws them right to you. You also have a fated energy or destiny really plays a role in your life. To the point where people want to be in your life because they think they might be able to get some of whatever you have. You might also be witchy and cast spells or work with guides to make things go your way in life. You co create with spirit for sure. I feel like you guys have a contrasting appearance, like pale skin dark hair, or darker skin and lighter hair. I feel like your eyes are piercing like they are hunting prey and people love feeling like they are hunted by you. I see you being very chiseled whether that’s in the body or the face. You have a striking appearance for sure. The kind that people do double takes on the street. You might get a lot of losers who want to talk to you because your energy and appearance are so intoxicating. I also feel like you’re overall just very bold. Perhaps Aries as well? I also feel like anything said in this reading you already know about yourself lol. Signs : Osprey; Seahawks (football); Megan Fox; vampires; red lisp; metal; silver; motorcycles; the twilight saga?; Jennifer’s Body; clubbing; latex; Washington State; black hair; blue eyes

Pile 3

"I know she's gonna break my heart"

(8 of cups; 7 of wands (rx); page of pentacles; the moon; the hanged man (rx); the lovers) You, my pile three, are the heartbreaker, soul stealer, sad girl pile. People are attracted to you because people want to fix you, not necessarily that you need to be fixed to be honest. It’s more in the sense that you don’t care about them more than you care about yourself. It’s like they want to teach how to love or be the one that changes you. Which to me is so funny because it’s not that you don’t know how to love it’s that you don’t love them lmfao. You don’t entertain many suitors or people in general and so when you do give people your energy it’s special. However with how selective you are it makes people want to know more about your inner world. But you come off so nonchalant that people want to get a reaction out of you. You have the potential to feed people’s hero/savior complex if you actually like them back. I also feel like your sense of style is alternative or goth and that’s also what brings people to you. I’m getting retired emo’s or lil peep/suicide boy fans. Perhaps your taste in music also attracts people. I feel like you’re social media and the way you present yourself really gets people wanting to know you more. You’re very mysterious but I'm getting in more of an Aquarius or Pisces way. I feel like you like having dramatic makeup on or you have a very out there style. I keep seeing, like cyber goth or emo. I’m not super well versed in those genres of style so I hope you get it lol. Maybe you have lip rings or eyebrow piercings. Anyways you’re very unique and that’s what attracts people to you. I also feel like you’re always doing cool and new stuff and people are attracted to you because you’re a trendsetter in a lot of ways. Maybe you have a following on a social media platform? Idk I feel like people watch you via the internet. Signs: anime; jjk; tik tok; silver metals; lip biting; rilakuma; pastel pinks; black; stripes; oversized sweaters; skirts and thigh highs; leg warmers; big chunky shoes; platform boots; johnny guilbert?; music holds importance here

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