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lilac-5ky · 8 months

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TOJI AND VIRGIN READER!

The Favor (officeAU!Toji x virgin!Fem!Reader)

Plot: The first day you met Toji, he told you everything on his CV was a lie. Three years later, he's your beloved work husband, the one you go to when you decide it's time to lose your virginity.

Tags: Office!AU, loss of virginity, fingering, oral sex (f.receiving), agee gap (reader mid 20s, toji mid 30s), soft!dom toji, dirty talking, praising, pet names (sweetheart, darling, kid, wife, whore, slut, etc), aftercare, toji catches feelings after fucking you, daddy vibes without the word, friends to lovers dynamic, size kink, lube handjob, MDNI obviously.

A/N: Combined your idea with my intense need to write an office!au. Hopefully this turned out to your liking and you forgive me for writing this much filth LMAO

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For promotion, for demotion, for raises and for cuts, in overtime and in bureaucracy, until layoff do us part.

In the insufferable reality of Japanese corporate life, a work spouse exists to shoulder the burden of overdue deadlines and never-ending stacks of paperwork. A husband who, in spite of not being bound to you through marriage, has vowed to stick by your side until either one of you breaks free from the shackles of human resources; your work husband.

You met each other on your first day at the company, both of you passing interviews for the same lowly position of staffing coordinator.

Your first impression of candidate number 9 was that his suit wasn’t really his but was likely borrowed from someone whose bicep wasn’t the size of their thigh and calf combined. Your second impression was whispered to your ear as the dark haired man rose from his chair and paraded down the interview room, nonchalantly letting slip that his bachelor’s degree along with every bit of qualification on his CV had been faked.

Whether that was a declaration of war or a testament to his unparalleled confidence, you wouldn’t know until a week later when you were assigned to the same miserable office corner, sharing a desk, a title, and a secret whose value skyrocketed once you became acquainted with your work place’s imposing policies.

One word would get both him and his knowing smile fired, but the moment you shook hands with Fushiguro Toji and promised to get along, you signed yourself up for a long-lasting partnership.

Over the three years you worked together, each grew out of their initial post. Your all-nighters paid off and you got promoted to an HR assistant, meaning you didn’t have to memorize everyone’s coffee order any longer, while Toji flourished as the department’s eye candy.

He’d ceased pretending that his broad shoulders could be boxed in second-hand suit jackets, and instead opted for rolled-up button-ups with the occasional monochromatic tie—a fit that put his sculpted physique into full view and threw the entire female populace out of balance.

He was an objectively good-looking man who bordered on great. The type to be conscious of their effect on others, cutting corners with suggestive glances and smiling his way out of otherwise unforgivable report oversights. Every woman in the office was openly in love with him. Even your supervisor referred to him as the team’s ace and discreetly unbuttoned her cleavage in his presence.

You realized then, they’d sooner let go of you and your hard-earned master’s, than part with the department’s mascot.

Despite the differences in skill and appearance, your sense of kinship survived the passage of time. Perhaps you’d subconsciously fallen victim to his charms, but whenever you saw his thin brows furrow and his right foot threaten the unresponsive copy machine with a killing blow, you couldn’t look away. This is a favor; you’d remind him at every formal email and resume assessment you helped put together.

And favors are repaid.

While Toji couldn’t assist with payroll processing, he always had the scoop on who cheated on their spouse with whom and whose bra was filled with padding—which you didn’t find all that interesting, but turned into a fun game of guess the cheater during dull 9 a.m. meetings.

On mornings when the alarm was hurled at your bedroom wall, he made excuses for your absence, and on work dinners, he saved you a seat away from all the grabby drunks.

Toji was far from a good person. His mere presence in a company you’d broken your back to get into was a mockery of your efforts. He led others on and got into muffled shutouts over his phone behind the water fountain, where he thought no one was listening in.

That’s how you found out about his eight-year-old kid and the custody battle with his allegedly “psychotic” ex-wife. He didn’t know you knew because you never told him. Everyone had skeletons in their closet, and it wasn’t your job to sort his out. As far as your work marriage was concerned, he was a good husband who diligently fulfilled his marital duties—all except one, which you feared the pretext of a favor wouldn’t begin to cover.

“Here’s your poison,” you slid the scalding coffee cup in his direction, mindful of the papers on his desk. “Black Americano with four shots of espresso and no sugar to compliment your wretched dark soul.”

Toji raised an open palm in your face, motioning for you to wait until he was done punching words on the keyboard and pressed save file. Your eyes were drawn to his fingers, threaded with faded scars that followed the expanse of veins down his wrists, dipping deep below the white cotton of his shirt. Another unsolved mystery you hadn’t gotten to the bottom of.

He brought the cup to his equally scarred lips, defying the steam spirals with a long-drawn sip. “Unnecessary intro, but thanks.” He gave a lazy smile. “Aren’t ya a sweetheart?”

You dropped your beverage on your side of the desk and swiveled your chair nearer. “Think you could do said sweetheart a favor?

“A favor, huh?” His breath was laced with caffeine. “Depends. If you’re asking for a buck, ‘fraid I’m all dried up till the end of the month.”

So he isn’t planning on paying for his order.

“I make more than you.”

“Doesn’t mean ya can’t find yourself in a pickle.”

You shook your head, stealing a sip of liquid courage from your mocha. How did people ask those things again?

Your contemplation lasted long enough for him to turn his head back to work, filling his home screen with enough tabs to distract you from his unfinished round of solitaire.

“What are you doing after work?” Your voice cracked into shards of uncertainty.

“Nice try.”He sneered. “You dug your own grave taking on the grievance procedures from the union. Climb out on your own.”

“Not everyone offloads their work load on others, Toji.” You rolled your eyes, scooting even closer to make sure only he’d be the recipient of your next words.

He sensed something was off because he wasn’t pretending to input random lines into the search bar anymore, and while he studied you, you studied him back. You had your doubts about this, and you weren’t sure he was your type either. You liked your men responsible and mature—like Nanami from sales, who would’ve been your first choice if your legs didn’t turn into jelly the minute you saw him.

Toji was the safe option. You talked to him. You joked with him. You were used to him, and more importantly, you trusted him. All the lack of qualifications in his job, he made up for with his experience in that other field you were a stranger to.

“Hey, kid.” His voice mellowed down with a beat of concern, a heavy hand landing on your shoulder. “If you’ve gotten yourself into trouble, I—”

“Please have sex with me.”

“Make yourself at home.” He nudged your back into the apartment, glancing over his shoulder to make sure you were following even after he’d pulled away.

Moving forward felt hard—as if you’d forgotten how to. You weren’t sure whether to wipe your shoes on the mat or stash them in the corner. You didn’t know which foot to put forth and what set of slippers to pick. Every decision suddenly mattered a lot more than it should.

You’d never been to Toji’s house before, and up until a few hours ago, you couldn’t fathom standing at his doorstep either. You weren’t that close so as to meet outside work hours, but you were about to get a lot more up close and personal.

The way he accepted your request with a mere, almost offensive, okay still boggled your brain. You’d considered every question he could possibly ask, painstakingly compiling your list of answers like a witness called to the stand, only for him to not speak a word of it—not even when it was just you and him and the solitude that came from enjoying lunch a hundred stories above Tokyo’s bustling streets.

He seemed to have forgotten all about your plans, up until he pulled over at the bus stop where you were waiting and stuffed you in the front seat of his car.

“You coming?”

Kicking your heels off your feet, you skipped straight through the hallway, your head turning left and right as if you were at an art gallery. You didn’t know what to expect, but a high-end apartment in the heart of Minato wasn’t it. Neither your income nor his justified an inox steel kitchen with mahogany wood flooring—let alone a direct view of the illuminated Tokyo Tower.

You were so bedazzled by the city skyline that you nearly missed the hastily buried socks peeking beneath the kotatsu, along with the cobwebs his untouched bookshelf flaunted. Much like his suit, his apartment was handed to him by someone whose love for both their books and spouse had run out.

“Whaddya think?”

Toji stalked behind you, his reflection in the glass becoming more defined with every step he took. He was holding something in each hand—two glasses whose orange liquid sparkled in place of the stars.

You turned around slowly, accepting your share with a small smile on your face.

“Your ex-wife has good taste.”

He blinked, taken aback for a split second. He wondered what gave it out—the pink slippers or the flipped-down picture frames you’d yet to notice—and somewhere down the line, he got the wrong idea, beaming with an unwarranted “Thanks.”

“I meant the house, not you.” Although you couldn’t blame him for his inflated ego when every female practically dropped their panties at his feet. Especially not when you were there to do the same.

Your teeth clicked sharply against the glass as you tilted your head and sipped on what tasted too sweet to be whiskey. Apple Juice?

“That’s not alcohol.” You stated.

“Ever thought of becoming a detective?” Toji padded toward the leather couch, spreading his thighs across the two middle cushions.

“Ever thought of becoming a comedian?” You retorted, squeezing in to his left. The furniture would’ve been big enough to fit you both, had he been considerate. “So what’s the joke? Too young to be drinking, or hard liquor ain’t for pretty girls like me?”

“Nah.” His head dropped on his shoulder, both propped against the headrest. “Need you sober for what’s about to happen.”

You mirrored his stance, your knees touching as you folded them on the smooth leather. “And what’s about to happen?”

“I think we both know, or else ya wouldn’t have followed me here.” He wet his bottom lip, pretty green eyes clouding dark.

A certain dryness gnawed at your throat, the pink color of his tongue appealing to you more than it should. You weren’t interested in Toji, but the strands of black that fell over his forehead painted a cuter image than you were used to seeing at the office. You wondered what he’d look like with his hair pushed back, all slick from beads of sweat rolling down his temples. And when you realized you couldn’t pin any of those thoughts on the alcohol, you took another sip, hurriedly averting your gaze.

“How many have? Women from work, I mean.”

You were surprised to hear him state “None,” and even more surprised that he claimed not to mix business with pleasure. You could think of at least three coworkers you suspected he fooled around with. At least so they bragged in the ladies’ room.

“So why bring me home?”

“‘Cause you asked.” Toji said gruffly.

“You fuck every woman who asks you to?”

“Only the cute ones.”

Your cheeks flushed red as you reminded yourself to take his words with a grain of salt. He wasn’t interested in you any more than you were in him. This was simply platonic—almost transactional. He’d do what you asked, and then you’d pay him back with another, mundane favor like sorting mail in his stead.

You finished your drink, your eyes licking up the remaining drops at the bottom of the glass. “This line works?”

Toji shrugged. It probably did. He probably didn’t even have to open his mouth for it to work. While the moment you opened yours—

“Want more?” He motioned to your glass. You nodded, extending your arm, only for his expression to turn sour. “I’m not your fucking maid. Bottle’s on the counter.”

You sighed, getting up so he wouldn’t see your eyes roll at his comment as he shoved his glass in your face. Who’s the maid now?

Aimlessly, you strolled into the kitchen, taking longer than necessary to fill both your glasses. You didn’t mean to start snooping around, but you couldn’t help yourself from seeking a sign of his presence in his picture-perfect apartment. Houses typically reveal something about their residents, and while the display of crystal glasses spoke plenty of his ex-wife, there was no evidence of Toji’s personality.

You weren’t interested in him—just curious. That’s what you kept telling yourself as you picked up a frame stowed away behind an empty cookie jar.

Four smiles greeted you, the brightest belonging to a young girl with elongated bangs, holding a boy who strove to copy his sister’s expression. Their parents stood behind them, a beautiful woman with long brown hair tucked in a ponytail blissfully leaning against the shoulder of a Toji that seemed less happy the longer you processed his strained features.

“She left.” The proximity of his voice startled you. The frame danced between your fingers until he snatched it, his jutted-out chin betraying his annoyance. “Took the kids, left the house and me behind. Ain’t that what ya wanted to hear?”

You shook your head, about to drop to your knees and beg for forgiveness on his parquet. However, the hostility that rose faded as soon as he threw the picture in the first open drawer and returned to the living room, leaving you to fetch your drinks. Then you remembered the phone calls. They weren’t on good terms.

“Having kids isn’t bad. Nor being divorced.” You handed him the glass, assuming your previous position on the couch. “Doesn’t ruin your cool guy image whatsoever.”

“Who said I care about that?” Toji snorted.

“Then you wouldn’t care if anything slipped in front of your fan club?”

“Mind your own fucking business.” He hissed. You chuckled. Sharing a couch wasn’t that much different from sharing a desk, and sharing two secrets was the same as sharing one.

“What are your kids’ names?”

“Kid,” he corrected. “Megumi.”

By the name, you assumed it was the girl. You were wrong. You tried to ask something about his son’s mother, but somehow you couldn’t find one right thing to say, since the woman in the photo wasn’t the boy’s biological mom either. You were lost. The more cryptic answers he gave, the more unanswered questions you ended up with.

Your plan took a backseat while Toji trod the sensitive topic of his divorce to that “bitch,” who’d taken his kid from him out of spite. The custody battle was tipped in her favor, courtesy of a legal system that’d rather see a child separated from its biological parent in the face of cold cash.

Megumi only visited every second weekend of the month, which explained his father’s eagerness to leave early on certain Fridays and come late on the following Mondays. He didn’t need to say this, but you understood his reasons for cheating his way into the company. A proper job looked good in court, and whatever earned him those scars was far from proper.

Both your hands emptied as you finished your second round of drinks. Your head would be buzzing if there was alcohol involved, but you didn’t miss it. Toji was hard to engage, and talking to him felt like running into one brick wall after another. However, working out of those dead-ends was preferable to clinking glasses with some guy who wouldn’t quit boasting about his Ivy League diploma or his burning passion for vocaloid singers—both cases reflecting the sad reality of blind dating in your twenties.

“So.” Toji drawled, a burly arm stretching behind your head. “Why you want me to fuck you? Can’t find good dick in the market?”

Your mind went blank in an instant, every excuse and curated version of the story vanishing when you needed them the most.

“I—um,” you cleared your throat, while your eyes scanned over his body.

There was a lot to take in: the fine lines of his pecs, highlighted under the taut white fabric; the black tie hanging loose around his unbuttoned collar; the hem of his shirt that dangled out of his fitted pants, exposing the tiniest window to the happy trail on his lower abdomen; his slim waist and his thick thighs; the curve of his bum; and the light touch of his fingers closing around your shoulder. You traced the same route of landmarks, finding yourself returning to his achingly handsome face and the playful curiosity in his eyes that had you shifting in your place.

All the reasons for someone to want to be fucked by this fine specimen of a man were right there, and you picked the most inclusive one. “Because you’re hot.”

The ends of his scar drew apart as Toji smiled a wolfish smile. He inched closer, your back hitting the armrest when his right hand caged your body between his arms and the couch.

“Bullshit.” A tickle from where his nose brushed against yours, and a thud from where your heart dropped inside your chest. “You think I wouldn’t know if ya had the hots for me, kid?”

“N-not everyone throws themselves at others.” You tried to reason.

“Maybe. But attraction comes with signs.” The side of his hand grazed the corner of your eyelid. “Batting your pretty lashes,” he trailed off, rough knuckles softly tracing the apple of your cheek. “Blushing your cheeks red.” The pad of his thumb swiped down your cupid’s bow. “Biting your lip raw.” He continued with his eyes, glancing at the skirt that lay high above your knees suggestively. “Pressing those plushy thighs together.”

“You do none ‘f those things.” Toji accused. “So why the sudden itch? Indulge me, and I’ll pound that pussy till ya scream.”

The promise of his words forced a gulp down your throat as your thighs involuntarily rubbed together. You started to reconsider. You didn’t want to fuck him just because any man would do. You wanted to fuck him because it was him and because every patch of skin he made contact with begged to be touched again.

“I’m a virgin.” You admitted, voice low, and stare even lower—utterly defeated as he flinched away in surprise.

You wondered what he’d say. A virgin at your age? was the most common response, followed by Is something wrong with you? and typically concluded with You sure you’re not a lesbian?

Everyone preaches how precious innocence is, but no one wants the pressure of taking it. What men really want is a woman who is both a saint and a slut—a woman who can suck their dick ten inches deeper than they can provide while simultaneously shying away from every insinuation of sex.

The problem is with the poor souls who belong in either category without adhering to the other, because squeezing your legs shut is just as faulty as spreading them open for the public.

Seeing as Toji remained silent, you realized you wouldn’t get an answer, and maybe it was for the best. You didn’t want to put a strain on your work relationship. It’d take a while to look him in the eye again, but in a month or two, you’d laugh about the incident over a cup of soggy store-bought noodles like nothing happened.

“Sorry for bothering you.” You mumbled as you picked up your last vestige of dignity and stood on your feet, only to be anchored by a set of fingers that tightly gripped your wrist.

“Sit.” His unfaltering gaze confirmed the sincerity of his command.

You thought about breaking free and dashing to the door. You thought about how much it’d actually hurt to let him ridicule you, and the tears started to build up on their own. And when you didn’t do as you were told, he towered over you with a palm that was eager to cup your cheek, tilting your face in position for him to print a rough kiss on your parted lips.

“I said fucking sit.” Toji repeated, while you contemplated how someone who spews words so harshly could have such soft lips.

Sheepishly, you fell back onto the couch, expecting him to follow suit and not kneel on the floor like he did. “What’s the story?” He asked, large hands taking hold of your knees and slowly rubbing them apart.

“What makes you think there’s a story?” You prayed that he couldn’t feel your heartbeat bounce across your body as if it were an empty vessel.

“With you, there always is.” He licked his lips as his eyes settled between your thighs, darkening with lust the second they were met with the damp patch in the middle of your pink lace knickers. “Wanna hear all about it while I feast on your little hole.”

“You’re not gonna fuck—”

“First things first, sweetheart. Gotta make sure y’are all prepped before I stuff you with my cock.” Toji smiled, pushing your skirt until it rolled over your stomach. “If ya gonna scream my ears off, better be from pleasure, mm?”

You nodded, watching as his slender fingers slid your underwear off and temporarily—you hoped—shoved it in his back pocket. You saw him marvel at the sight of your exposed cunt and wished you could peer into his brain to hear him curse himself for not coming up with this idea first.

You looked so pretty down there, your puffy clit safely tucked behind its hood while your lips shimmered with your wetness—the scent so intoxicating his pants tightened into a size too small.

He was already considering his next favor. Now that the door was open, he’d make sure it never closed again. Bending you over the copy machine was the front-runner. Getting a print of your tits squeezed against the scanner while he blows your back, his palm muffling out the pathetic sounds you let slip—he’d be lying if that wasn’t what he fantasized about whenever you refilled the ink cartridges for him.

“Ya ever touch yourself here?”

His thumb swiped over your clit, drawing an incomplete circle that ended with light flicks around the sensitive nub. Left and right. Up and down. Searching for the combination that’d have your body answer in place of your mouth, and when your hips bucked forward, he knew exactly where to press.

“Y-yes!” You whined, more as a reaction than an answer to his question.

“And ya ever push a finger in?” He continued, teasingly dragging his thumb between your lips.

“Just one. Rest hurt.”

“Mhm, bet they do.” He hummed as he tasted you on his finger, exaggerating the suck with a soft pop. “Ever had a guy kiss ya there before?”

Toji gave his own answer as he buried his head in your pussy, the sticky mix of his saliva and your juices trickling down your entrance while he made out with your clit. You struggled to keep your thighs apart, the raspy grunts at the back of his throat vibrating against your mound in joint symphony with your breathy moans. His tongue felt so good soaking on your slick that you felt yourself melting into a pool of pleasure.

“Get talkin’ or I’ll stop.” He warned, slowing down with broad, near-maddening, strokes that occasionally dipped between your folds.

“I wanted to w-wait,” you panted. “Wanted to fall in love first, but then I waited too long, and—ngh, fuck, right there!” Toji pinched your folds apart, his stare lecherous as he sucked the puffy pearl into his warm mouth.

Your body jerked in response, the leather squeaking hard beneath your bared ass. You weren’t sure at what point interest surpassed curiosity, but the signs were all there, manifesting as heat in your cheeks and blood that threatened to drop from your chewed-up lip.

His jade eyes narrowed into a shrewd reminder. Putting your thoughts in order was impossible, but if you stopped, so would he.

“Everyone ‘round me started d-doing it, and I was the only one l-left.” You tried to regulate your breathing through your nose, your throat turning hoarse from all the strain. “Went on a bunch of blind dates, but the guys were t-turned off, and—how the fuck are you so good at this?”

Toji chuckled, the pink tip of his tongue parting your lips in a languid motion that made you shudder. “Let’s just say my marriage didn’t fall apart ‘cause of this.”

He mounted your knees atop his shoulders and neared your entrance, with his middle and ring fingers ghosting over the softness of your pulsing slit. “Gonna use my fingers now. Be a good girl and cum on them, will ya?”

The first digit pushed forward, much thicker than any of your fingers. You felt so full already—nails digging into the cushions, while he thrust in and out of your walls, curling the lone pad to find a spot so sweet it elicited a moan of equal sweetness.

“Ya did well to come to me.” He continued, his raspy voice effortlessly sexy. “Kids these days don’t know shit ‘bout pleasing a woman.”

The veins on his wrist flexed along with his scars as his ring finger joined in the action to defy your previous claim. There was no pain. Only immense waves of pleasure leaking through your squinted eyes as hot tears beaded your eyelashes.

“Doin’ so good for me, darlin’.” He praised, repeatedly hitting the swollen bundle of nerves inside your throbbing cunt, bringing you closer to the edge with each thorough pump.

“Maybe I was wrong, hm? Maybe that’s what ya wanted all along. I know I did. Fucking wanted my hands on this pussy since I first saw ya fidget with your little skirt at that interview.”

“Toji—”

He dived between your legs again, his hand maintaining the same erratic pace even while his tongue hungrily lapped at your clit. Your head lolled back, the tension in your guts rapidly building up until you came undone, your pussy clenching and creaming around his calloused fingers.

You’d never finished so hard on your own, the tremors of your orgasm ringing in your ears and jogging your memory.

Your first impression on that day was sadness, right? Sadness over the wedding band the handsome stranger hid in his pocket right before entering the building, thinking no one else caught sight of it, and embarrassment about how your impure thoughts for a married man followed you into the shower every night after work.

“Atta girl.” A present-day and very-much divorced Toji licked his lips into a smile. “Their fucking loss.”

His knee pressed into the gap between your thighs as he stood on his feet and prompted you to open your lips. You took his fingers in your mouth, licking your cum off while your chest heaved with one labored breath after the other.

“See how good ya taste?” Toji cooed, rhythmically fucking his fingers on your tongue before removing them. “Sweeter than honey.”

“Thought you didn’t like sweet things.” His coffee order came in mind.

“How ‘bout we make an exception?”

You weren’t sure what got into you when you grabbed him by the tie and pulled him forward, kissing him with such vigor you’d never experienced. You always thought of losing your virginity as checking an item off your bucket list. You didn’t imagine you could ever lust after someone the way you currently lusted after Toji, your desire escalating into an all-consuming need.

His tongue moved as skillfully in your mouth as it did when it explored your pussy, dancing with your own rather than overpowering it. You liked kissing him. You liked kissing him so much that you wanted to incorporate it into your morning hellos and your evening goodbyes, dragging yourselves into an endless loop of returned favors.

Without breaking the kiss, Toji hoisted you up from the couch and held you in his arms, his palms finding the perfect excuse to grab onto your ass while he carried you across rooms you didn’t care enough to see. A door creaked behind your back, and soon you were tossed onto a large body of endless softness—a bed, you realized as Toji hastily shoved a couple of pillows behind your head.

“Ever heard of that stupid nickname that goes ‘round work?” He whispered in your ear while his fingers worked on undoing your blouse. “How they call ya my work wife?” His palms slid around your ribs and back to unhook your bra. “Guess this makes it our wedding night, heh.”

You rolled your eyes, holding back a chuckle. “Don’t you feel any shame calling me your wife when you’re about to fuck me on your ex-wife’s bed?”

“My bed now, and what I say fucking goes.” He stripped your body from every garment, salaciously gawking at your nude figure on his (her) satin sheets.

You didn’t feel too bad about showing your body, but his stare was almost intrusive—especially with how he hadn’t lost a single article of clothing himself.

“Such a gorgeous body, wife.” He dragged out the final syllables, hoping to elicit a reaction separate from the soft pants you let out as he caressed your soft curves—both much softer than the bedding you were splayed across, liquid velvet in his hands. “Such a good little wife, saving herself for her husband to deflower.”

“Why thank you, husband.” You chortled, cupping his face in a deep kiss.

You knew Toji was the right choice. Not because touching him felt like winning the lottery or because he knew exactly what he was doing, but because he could’ve made this situation a lot more awkward and didn’t. He made your first time feel special, granting your wish of doing it with someone you loved, even if it was all an illusion that’d fade come tomorrow morning.

You almost thanked him as he began to unbutton his shirt, the display of corded muscles and pale scars breaking the dam between your legs. Whatever your type might’ve once been, was no more. It was all Toji, with his clenched fists lifting the weight of his brawny, veiny arms, his shoulders so wide you could ride on them, and the self-complacent smirk your stupefied expression brought to his lips.

“This ain’t an exhibit, sweetheart.” He mocked. “You can touch all ya want.”

He didn’t need to say it twice for your palms to roam his body, starting from his neck and slowly gliding down his torso, feeling out the tension in his steeled abdomen. His skin was smooth, except for the few unruly hairs leading down to the bulge in his crotch, whose sight alone made you lick your lips and buck your hips into his. You wanted to see the rest of him.

“You are the hottest divorcee I know.” You smiled earnestly.

“Ya know lots of ‘em?” Toji cocked his head while you shook yours with a giggle. “Don’t be so flattering.”

“I do have a great-aunt…”

“Oh, please.” He groaned, allowing you to laugh it out. He didn’t like how his bottom lip twitched as he struggled to contain a chuckle of his own. He’d long sworn off girls that made his heart skip a beat.

“Think y’are ready?” You nodded. Repeatedly.

Digging his knees into the bed, he stretched an arm toward the nightstand, fishing for a bottle in one of the drawers. Lube, you realized as he settled it beside you to remove his pants, flinging them along with his boxers to the other side of the room.

Your eyes widened at the sight of his cock, an expression that didn’t look too good considering fear was about the last emotion you should be experiencing.

He was packing in every sense of the word. Long, thick, and definitely heavy as it hung above his hefty balls, the reddened tip pointing at your entrance. It wasn’t like you’d never seen a cock before. Porn existed, and so did perverts in trench coats, but comparing either one to him was both disrespectful and a huge understatement.

“Don’t go cold on me now, mm? It will fit.” He read your mind, taking your hand in his and slotting the bottle in your fist. “Prepped you so good for it. You’ll see; you’ll like this more than my fingers.”

“Promise.” He added, squeezing your hand reassuringly. You chose to trust him, and when he brought your other hand to his shaft, you knew what he was asking you to do.

The bottle spurted a thick glob of liquid that your palm smeared all over his cock head. Toji watched with bated breath as you stroked his length, each thorough pump of your delicate hands warming him up.

He deserved a pat on the back for not cumming right then and there—the distinction between the clear lubricant and his creamy precum becoming more prominent while he throbbed and twitched in your tight grasp. He thought about how much tighter your walls would be, milking every drop he had to offer while you writhed beneath him, with little ah-ah-ah’s and Toji please’s complimenting the squelching of your tight virgin cunt.

“That’s enough.”

He pulled your hand away and cracked the bottle open once more, rubbing a small quantity between his fingers and then scissoring them in your walls. You clung onto him, your hips chasing after his touch. Cute.

“Eyes on me, darlin’.” Toji leaned close enough so that your field of view was consumed by his face. “Keep your eyes on me, breath in ‘n’ out, and it won’t hurt one bit. I’ll take good care of ya.”

Your legs were parted as he ran his cock between your folds and pressed down firmly, his hand moving to your hip once he guided the first inches inside.

Toji was the first to react as he sank in deeper, about two-thirds in when he felt your pussy snare around him like a vice, the warmth of your walls making him curse under his breath. His last fuck was less than a weekend ago, and yet he felt like one of those loser kids he scorned earlier. He’d forgotten just how good being inside a virgin was—a one-and-done deal that would cease to amaze him after he fucked you into his shape.

“All good?” He remembered to ask, taking your strained yes at face value.

Small creases formed over your forehead, contorting your expression into a pained wince the further he sheathed himself into your wet cavern—and when his words weren’t enough, his lips took over. He kissed your worries away and cradled your breasts in his palms, doing everything in his power to keep the pain to a minimum as his hips met with your pelvis, bone against bone and skin against skin, until he finally bottomed out.

A whimper cut your kiss short, and for a second he feared tears would stream from your glassy eyes, not considering the possibility of your shaky legs wrapping around his back and your swollen, pretty lips calling out his name with a stuttered moan.

“F-fuck me, Toji. Please—fuck, I need you so badly.” You begged, dropping the pretense of composure.

“Yeah? Want me to fuck your little virgin pussy?”

“Y-yes, Toji, yes!”

“Yes, what, doll?” He teased. “Say it.”

“Please be my first, Toji.”

His grin turned feral in a heartbeat, your words stirring something in him that he could not explain.

He was prepared to spend the entire night fucking you at a snail’s pace, buttering you up with praises, and pampering you as if you were a golden egg goose, but now he didn’t have to. He could fuck you exactly how he pleased—fold your knees onto your stomach and hold down onto your thighs, pussy all exposed to where he could watch his cock pound into your hole and hear each and every strike of his balls against the fat of your ass—and you would take it.

But when he looked down and saw the ring of red that’d formed around his shaft, he had a change of heart. Maybe another time.

Planting his fingers on your hips, he withdrew slightly, purposely aligning his tip with the roof of your cunt. He didn’t have to go hard to make you happy. All he had to do was hit that one spot, and you’d be coming back for more. Having a steady thing wouldn’t hurt either. It was convenient—certainly better than burning gas driving across town just to pick up some random slut he’d tire of five minutes into her over-the-top screams. At least you lived close by.

With lavish strokes, he rolled his hips against your own, dipping forward to grind his pubic bone against your mound. It didn’t take long for the stimulation to get overwhelming, your hair falling from your strict work up-do all over your sweaty forehead while you thrashed around the sheets, huffs escalating into whiny moans.

“Sh-shit, gonna cum, Toji.” You managed, though there was no real need to tell him.

Your body responded perfectly to his, wetness gushing over his cock while your walls tightened impossibly around him. He fucked you through your high, wrapping his arms below your shoulders and muting your blissful sobs to chase after his own release. Your breasts were squeezed against his pecs, pebbled nipples making him regret not giving them the proper attention.

This wouldn’t be the last time. Your body was like a playground to him, and he sure as hell wasn’t done playing.

“My fucking work wife.” Toji grunted possessively in your ear, nipping at the lobe. Only his lower half moved, a constant snap of hips bouncing through the room as the second lewdest sound after the ones you traded. “Wanna send your ass crawling to work on all fours. That’ll show them, mm? Show them who fucked you so good. What a—fuck, what a good slut y’are f’me. From a virgin to my whore—hah, make ‘em all so jealous.

“Shhhhit, ya like that?” He interpreted your clenching as he willed. “Wanna start a rumor? Fuck on every desk, in every stall, and have everyone know?”

“Yes, Toji! Yesyesyes, want everyone to know you f-fucked me.”

You went back and forth between panting out his name and chanting yes, as those were the only two words you could mindlessly repeat. He wasn’t joking about making you scream. You were on the verge of passing out, so engrossed in ecstasy that you’d lost track of how many times you’d climaxed.

“‘s too much, T-Toji!” You begged, burying your head in the curve of his neck and breathing in his musk. You were both so sweaty, glued together like two puzzle pieces.

“One more, sweetheart. ‘m so close—wanna feel ya cum with me.”

He toyed with your clit until he started to fall out of pace, drawing his cock out before it was caught in the spasms of your pussy. A hefty load burst in his fist as he jerked himself off to your fucked-out form, hot drops of cum spraying your stomach like creamy droplets of rain.

Neither of you realized how soaked the sheets were until Toji left the bed, his eyes not faking their surprise. You didn’t seem to be in that much pain, and yet the amount of blood and wetness was at least equal to carnage.

Would it be a dick move to task you with his laundry?

He spared you a glance, not bothering to hide his smugness. Your legs were still trembling, your breasts puffing up in your struggle to breathe through your agape lips. He was tempted to tell you off—something cheesy like, “Want somethin’ in your mouth that badly?”

“Hey, kid. You are not dead—are you?” He asked jokingly, laughing through his nose as you found the strength to flip him off. Now that the effects of your orgasm were wearing off, so was your obedience.

“How’d ya like your first time?” A thumbs-up this time. “A’right. C’mere.”

The longer he let the stain settle, the more of a bitch it’d be to remove it. That’s what Toji told himself as he picked you up in his arms and carried you into the bathroom, returning to the bedroom only to roll the sheets into a ball he’d later discard in the washing machine. He wasn’t avoiding looking at your cute face, and he definitely didn’t think of your weakened infant-like state as cute when he scrubbed your thighs clean with a wet towel either.

A weird image sparked in his memory, one from the many nights you’d spent working side by side at a dimly lit office. He remembered you ordering him takeout and looming over his head like a vulture while he went neck-to-neck with the vicious spreadsheet program. You insisted on tutoring him, claiming your dressy outfit was a result of canceled plans—even though you kept stealing glances at the clock—and staying with him until the wee hours when you didn’t have to.

You really were a sweetheart, an angel, and all the other terms of endearment he used on you knowing they made your lips stretch and your eyes sparkle. But that wasn’t for you to know.

“Toji?” Your voice jolted him out of his reverie—frail, but not as frail as the hands that wrapped around his own to snatch the towel.

What could he say to make you leave without any harsh feelings coming back to bite him in the ass?

He pondered his options while you bent forward from where he’d seated you on the counter by the sink. You held his limp dick in your palm, gently wiping the dried blood and cum that clung to his girth.

It was sickening how quickly he stiffened, all ready to ram it in your pussy and fuck you with the mirrored view of your ass in the backdrop, but what truly made his guts churn was the little cheeky smile you beamed with. He stood by his words. Virgins were the biggest sluts.

The towel dropped to the floor as you pointed his cock at your entrance, and that was all the convincing he needed.

“Fine.” Toji sighed, pinning your wrists on the cold quartz counter top. “You can stay the night, but mention work and I’m kicking ya out.”

This is definitely not how you say it.

You made it to the office the next day after a brief raid on your apartment. Going to work in your previous day’s clothes screamed, “Look at me! I got laid!” And as fun as creating all those fantasies with Toji was, you could do without earning “Hated Employee of the Month.” Everyone hated you for being friends with him as is.

He waited until you’d changed into a presentable outfit and dropped you off a block further away for precaution. You shared your final kiss in the car, wasting a whole fifteen minutes sucking each other’s faces off like teenagers at a drive-in. Dating a colleague was against the rules, and you didn’t want to date Toji either. Not that he’d asked. Not that you expected him to ask.

Losing your virginity was a lot more complicated than you thought.

He counted on you to bring coffee, and you would have if an intense craving for spicy tuna onigiri didn’t win you over. The convenience store was right around the corner, and its coffee was honestly not that bad if you squinted your eyes and fooled your senses a bit.

You grabbed two onigiri from the stand—in case Toji felt like stealing yours—along with an apple juicebox, both as a means of thanking and poking fun at him. You paid for the items and walked to the office, nauseated by the butterflies that swarmed in your stomach. You should’ve really eaten something instead of having your final hookup at the breakfast table.

A few people greeted you in and out of the elevator to the forty-seventh floor, some commenting on your looking less gloomy than usual, but that was about it. The world spun the same way it did even before you had sex. No big change or mind-blowing epiphany; just a euphoric feeling of accomplishment that dissipated the moment you saw the stack of documents waiting on your desk.

“That’s just the tip of the iceberg.” Toji magically sprouted from behind, loaded binders balanced on his arms—the same arms that’d lavished you with affection all night long. “They had a fall out at one of the subsidiaries, and now we gotta clean up their shit.”

And back to reality we go.

“Where’s my coffee?” He searched for a cup on his desk.

You pushed your desperation aside and held the juice to his face with a smile that turned awkward the longer he took to accept it.

“It’s um, you know.” You stepped closer, placing the box atop his mountain of files. “Thank you.”

“Also, got you this, so don’t even think of taking mine.” You balanced the onigiri beside the juice and plopped down on your chair, an antsy, blushing mess that refused to meet his stare until he looped an arm around your headrest and attached his mouth to your ear.

“Care to do me a favor?”

#Toji x reader #toji smut #fushiguro toji #toji x y/n #jjk x reader #toji fushiguro #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #fushiguro toji x reader #toji fushiguro x reader #toji fanfiction #jjk fanfiction #toji <3 #toji headcanons #toji fic #toji x you #jjk fanfic #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader

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msgexymunson · 1 year

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Kitten

Description: Eddie can't believe you're still his nice adorable kitten, even when he's buried inside you.

Warnings: NSFW, porn without plot, fingering, unprotected sex, creampie, kinda mean dom Eddie, sub fem reader, degradation, crying, pet names.

A/n: I dont know what to tell you. This is just filth that was floating around in the cesspool that is my brain. Enjoy my dirty girls. If you like it, please comment and reblog!

1k words

Masterlist

"Please please please-" you moan into the empty air, unfeeling ears refusing to absorb the sounds. Sweating and clenching around thick fingers, you wiggle; a fish caught on a line, helpless, unable to break free. Your legs are draped across Eddie's lap, panties pulled to the side, your juices dripping all over his jeans.

Please what? Are you looking for more? Or are you looking to be set free? Its unclear; your pelvic movements are dragging you closer to his sodden cluch; wet, sticky sound of your release echoing everywhere, dampening the edge of your pleated mini skirt.

Disgusting sounds clog your ears; a soaken squelch pervades every sense, filling the room with a dirty, desolate want. A desire to be desiccated.

"Please, Eddie, please-"

"Please, oh please?" He mocks, thick fingers soaked with your release, a milky ring of your slick circling them.

"Please what? What do you want?" His mocking tone cuts through, humiliating you further, "tell me, or I can't give you what you need."

You know you never said, you want him to absorb knowledge at this point. He should know what you need. He does know what you need.

Your moans pierce the air while Eddie fucks you ceaselessly with thick fingers, pushing you towards sticky, squelching release. Again.

"Come on kitten, what do you need? You never said. Come on baby, you can do it." Thick, dastardly fingers continue to invade your cunt and push you to your breaking point. They know exactly what you need, but they want you to say. Your wanton moans are half the fun.

"Eddie, I need you to- please-"

"Please what? You let me bury my fingers in your pussy but you can't say the word fuck? You're fucking cute as hell kitten."

A blush smothers your cheeks, fuelled by his mocking and the heat between your legs.

"I need you inside me Eddie," you pout as his movements slow, still buried deep but his digits are rocking back and forth; so deep its bordering on painful, making you hiss.

"I am inside you kitten." He smirks when you huff, letting out a mirthless laugh.

Thighs quivering, you pull yourself nearer to his ear, your shaky breath a whisper.

"Please, I want your cock inside me. Please fuck me Eddie."

Eddie groans, eyes rolling back at your words. He pulls his fingers from you with a wet noise that makes you cringe. A smug smile stretches across his handsome features.

"See? I knew you could do it. That's my kitten."

Laying you gently down, he slowly pulls your sodden underwear off you, throwing them somewhere on the floor. His pants and boxers are next to go, leaving him naked, narrow hips slotting between your glistening thighs.

You reach to the side to unzip your skirt but Eddie bats your hands away. Rough hands flip your skirt up, exposing your slick soaked cunt. He pulls your tank top up to reveal your breasts, nipples hardening in the cooler air.

"You look so fucking hot like this. Such a dirty whore for me. Hmmm." Lust filled eyes drink in your form as he slowly fists his cock.

"Eddie, please." You frown up at him, hands balled into little fists.

"Stop being a brat and take what I give you." His voice is quiet, but hard. A threat dancing on his tongue. Looking up at him with wide eyes, your lip quivers.

"Aw, my little kitten gonna cry? I'll give you something to cry about."

He lines up his throbbing dick and rubs it through your glistening folds, gathering wetness, before pushing himself fully into you.

Tears rush to the corners of your eyes, pushed out by the sheer size of him. You gasp and grip his shoulders.

"Oh my God Eddie!"

"What's wrong kitten? Can't take it?" His lips draw into a condescending pout.

"No! I can Eddie, I can." You nod at him trying to convince him.

"Ok kitten if you're so sure..." as he starts slowly thrusting in and out of you, his hard member dragging against your sticky satin walls. The stretch was intense, leaving you groaning and gasping, a pretty mess just for Eddie.

A particularly deep thrust has you closing your eyes, moaning loudly.

"Yeah? That good baby?" You nod but its not enough.

"Hey, I asked you a question." He slows, making you grab his biceps, eyes widening.

"Yes, so good, please, don't stop!"

Eddie laughs and starts thrusting harder, faster. One hand keeps him upright, the other grasps you firmly by the jaw.

"You gotta look at me kitten. I wanna see you cum hard."

You stare into his dark eyes as you feel your world begin to unravel. The burning deep in your belly is threatening to spill out over your whole being.

"Eddie, oh my-" you're about to warn him when the feeling crashes over you, fluttering through your nerves, leaving you clenching around his length, whimpering your devotion to him.

"Fuck, you're so fucking pretty when you cum, holding me so tight, my dirty little girl, holy shit" his thrusts begin to falter, finally letting your jaw go, gripping so tight to your shoulder you think he'll leave finger print bruises.

"I'm gonna cum, where- fuck, where do you want it?"

"Inside me, please Eddie."

He breaks character for a moment. "Shit really? Are you sure?" As you nod emphatically, nails leaving red crescents in his back.

Features hard once again, he pounds into you even faster, "gonna fill this pussy up, just like you want, Jesus Christ!" Holding you close he releases deep inside of you. You can feel his dick throbbing, whining at the feeling.

Eddie collapses to the side of you, body shining in sweat. You allow your legs to slowly unfold, still quivering at the strength of your release.

"Sorry kitten if that was a bit much." He strokes your thigh, eyes seeking yours.

"Well you were a bit of a-"

"What princess? A douchbag? A prick?"

"A- a meanie."

Eddie's laugh echoes through the room. He scoops you in his arms.

"And you are an adorable little kitten."

Just tagging a couple of people who I know will enjoy this lol

@lunatictardis @munson-blurbs @eddiemunsons-missingnipple @billybluboy @zestychili @eddiesprincess86 @cluz1babe @joejoequinnquinn @onehotgreasymechanic @eddiemunsonfuxks

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bindeds · 3 months

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⊹・° ｡ㅤ BOYFRIEND VOX / LUCIFER / ALASTOR X FEM READER HEADCANONS ! — now i know alastor is aroace so i am once again making a post that acknowledges that as much as possible, meaning his headcanons can also be seen as platonic and his nsfw section doesn’t involve him engaging in the act of sex. i also made an aroace friendly headcanons post on alastor if you wanna check that out!

contains nsfw (+18) and it will be in a separate section <3 please credit me if you use these gifs!

mlist. request status.

VOX.

this man pampers the SHIT out of you and you cannot tell me otherwise. if you’re out walking in the streets of hell and you so much as look at a branded purse for a second longer than usual, it’s in your hands within the next five seconds. same goes for literally anything—clothes, shoes, sunglasses, books, anything you could want that isn’t a gadget, because he already gives you his latest models—only the finest for his girl.

he teleports to your phone screen whenever you ignore him, and you don’t tell him that you find it particularly endearing. the way he’s just so whiny for your attention that he’d act all petty and crash all your apps so you’re forced to look him in the face.

has the most funniest fucking pet names for you i just KNOW IT HAHA like think shrek’s prince charming. i just know that when you call him from a different room he’d definitely say shit like “just a second honey kisses!” like HAHAH I CAN’T GET THIS OUT OF MY HEAD

DEFINITELY loves having you sit on his lap while he works. i just know this man is a thigh grabber.

he loves when you dress in sweater vests, preferably in brighter colors but it’s cute when you use more muted colors as well.

relating back to my first point, this man loves taking you to extravagant AND I MEAN extravagant dates. i imagine one of them would be getting the both of you a literal floating table in the red skies of hell so you can see the entire pentagram from where you dine. he would have the food freshly delivered from the finest chefs he knows but he also seems like the type who would forget your favorite food, then demand that the food switched out with a snap of his fingers.

i’m judging this purely off of ‘stayed gone’ but he has a TON of terrible jokes up his sleeves, and they border on dad jokes at this point. you simply roll your eyes and kiss him for being so silly.

i just know this man comes home to you and WHINES. like, no matter what it is, he’ll always have something to complain about from work and you’re happy to listen to him bitch and moan about the smallest things ever. he also lays down on your lap and you to rub his shoulders and console him, whatever it is. you know he appreciates it because he usually always responds with something along the lines of “you’re right, baby, i do push myself too hard!” and you coo at him while continuing to console him further.

VOX NSFW !

i know he definitely gets irritated when someone interrupts his work but would be so into having sex on the job, and even loves ignoring calls from the vees for you. but of course doing it one too many times has its consequences, and he laughs nervously the one time he backs out. i can just imagine him going, “oh, haha, uh—sorry baby, i uh—listen i know we usually—it’s—FUCK um—just—just five minutes okay baby?”

i know this man’s hickeys feel like tiny zaps on your skin, and the marks reflect that instead of bruises

regarding the ‘sitting on his lap’ thing … you tried riding his thigh once and he DID NOT like that. seconds after you were sitting on his cock, crying his name from how he was just pumping into you mercilessly.

“still wanna tease me on my own fucking thigh, sweetie?” he clicks his tongue and grunts right after, his hands on your waist was enough to leave bruises.

that being said, he makes sure valentino never catches sight of you. the things you do to this man is beyond anything he could have thought and somehow, he feels uneasy at the fact that the way you have sex with him was DEFINITELY porn worthy and the thought of you being on camera in that way makes him want to wrap all of himself around you like a blanket to cover you from all of hell.

LUCIFER.

ironically, this man does NOT give you the world. instead, he gives you casual nights out turned into nights where you share all your secrets with him, and he tells you everything might not be okay now, or ever, but whatever it is, he’ll be right there with you. think going to your favorite diners, cruising and carpooling along the quieter side of hell, screaming at the top of your lungs. this man is all about authenticity. he wants the bond, not the experience.

that doesn’t mean he doesn’t spoil you every now and then—he definitely does research on the best bars in the ring and takes you out every month during your monthsaries and gets you at least 10 different gifts—half of which are little trinkets you and him picked up from your little adventures together.

unironically so fucking good at picking out jewelry for you. you don’t know how he does it, but every time you both visit a jewelry store, you always pick out necklaces and rings and he always comes to you with pieces that just look way more stunning on you. he always insists on being the one to slip the rings onto your fingers or chain the necklaces at the back of your neck, and he always flies up to do it.

he sometimes visits you as a bird and flies through your window. you like stroking his little cheek and it always causes him to transform suddenly which catches you off guard, and he uses this opportunity to kiss you.

he makes rubber duckies modeled after you!! all of them have different outfits from all the times you spend together.

forehead touches. so important for him, he does it so often and it’s nothing short of endearing.

this man COOKS and he COOKS WELL. every now and then when you both stay home he always whips up five-star restaurant grade steak for you, same goes for his carbonara, fish and chips, ramen, fried rice, stew—whatever it is, he loves making it with his own two hands and loves cooking for you.

lucifer makes his own clothes seeing as his hat has a gold snake and an apple on it which only really related to him, and he also has a unique circus vibe to his clothing. he made his clothes out of magic but after meeting you he wanted to get into sewing to make you something from scratch.

LUCIFER NSFW !

i absolutely agree with a lot of lucifer stans on him being a definite switch BUT i just know that if this man tops, he tops HARD. i mean, we’re talking about the angel who successfully seduced not just the FIRST WOMAN to ever exist, but the SECOND TOO. WHILE SHE WAS LOYAL TO ADAM. I FEEL LIKE THAT SPEAKS FOR ITSELF

he’d definitely do a multitude of things while trying out a few kinks to see just what kind of top flusters you. if you like service tops, he found out when he insisted on fingering you right after he’d brought you to orgasm with his tongue. dominant top? he found out when he crawled on top of you and said, “take it off for me, lovely.” all while leaving a trail of hickeys all from your jaw all the way down to your collarbone. the list goes on.

no matter if he tops or bottoms, this man begs, and its especially orgasm-worthy when he does it as a bottom. you’re riding him to your own climax and he’s close too and he goes, “ohhh god fuck please let me cum honey—let me cum please fuck! can i cum can i cum my love? i won’t until you say so oh fuck please baby—”

he knows when you’re pent up. apparently you give of a certain set of cues through body language only he sees and he’s observed it from you in all sorts of situations; going out with friends, sitting in bed with a book, tapping a pencil to your lip—it doesn’t matter what you’re doing. he can tell. and he never tells you how.

seeing as he usually has to fly up to kiss you on the lips, he takes every opportunity he has in bed just to kiss you. he could be going so damn rough on you that the neighbors can hear and he’d still be making out with you so damn hard.

definitely prides himself on cunnilingus. i know everyone mentions this because of the v he made to his lips but it just makes sense for him to do that if he’s good at it! he becomes a grunting, begging, whimpering mess when you suck him off but when he eats you out? you compare it to how restaurants have a signature dish—lucifer’s is whatever miracles he can perform with his tongue.

ALASTOR.

i think this is obvious because he literally hosts possibly the most famous radio broadcast in the entire ring, but this man has a way with words.

“to put it simply my dear, i just never thought the stars could walk on dirty streets, let alone ones that belong in hell,” he sighs with an almost dreamy tone to it as he rested chin on his knuckles, leaning closer to you from the other side of the table with his elbow propped up on it. “but it seems you’re living proof of that.”

you took that as his way of explaining his aromanticism and asexuality to you, even if he isn’t fully aware of those terms yet.

“how did a lovely thing like you end up with a gruesome animal such as myself?”

nonetheless, you and him are partners and he owns it, even if he’ll never admit that it is daunting for someone who has never felt this way about anyone else before. someone who has never liked anyone romantically before. he owns it because he doesn’t want the one person he’s ever loved to slip from his grasp. not when he was just so used to getting what he wants using his own bare hands.

seeing as he is aroace, he doesn’t kiss you directly on the lips but hugs you all the time and maybe kisses cheek-to-cheek.

he listens to your gossip and even arranges dates for you both to properly get together and just dish. he gossips back sometimes too, but not too much as he feels like that would be like treating you like the other friends he has. he’d rather spend this time he has with you focusing on, well, you, not other people’s foolish mistakes. but he sees how excited you are to tell him these things sometimes so, he listens still.

regularly slow dances with you, especially to old romantic songs the both of you like. it’s one of the rare times physical contact doesn’t feel foreign to him as he’s danced with many women, and he actually finds it endearing when you press your head on his chest. it shows that you feel safe around him, and that’s the best thing that could happen for him when you’re dating one of the most feared and powerful overlords in hell.

always does house chores with you even though he could use his powers to just speed up the process. something about cleaning up together just feels so intimate to him compared to physical touch.

ALASTOR NSFW !

he hates being touched, no question about that—but he also doesn’t like to see you pent up. he understands that everyone has their own desires, however filthy they might be—but your own are as good as sacred. you’re the one thing he treasures beyond all others and just as you can’t change the fact that he’s aroace, he can’t change the fact that you have needs.

so he comes up with something just for you; he asks if it would help if he talked you through it. praising or degrading you, whichever you prefer. telling you how much he misses having your hands on his, feeling you close to him. when he says this, he imagines you both dancing as you usually do, but of course, as you masturbate, you’re thinking of something else. this happens when he’s not in the room but he leaves his mic behind to act as a phone for the both of you.

“are you close, love? will you finish for me?” “y-yes …” “good girl.”

i imagine after a while of being with him, he would have seen you naked a few times on accident but he brushes it off well because there’s never anything sexual tied to it. so, when he is in the room while you get off, he’d use his powers to have a glowing green chain around your neck as he pulls your face closer to his.

“do you like it when i do this to you, hm? tell me just how much you relish being my good girl.”

#hazbin hotel fanfiction #hazbin hotel fandom #alastor hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel lucifer #hazbin hotel gifs #hazbin hotel #hazbin lucifer #hazbin vox #hazbin hotel vox #vox headcanons #vox hazbin hotel #lucifer hazbin hotel #◟𓂅 𓄹 splash zone.#( ✮ hazbin. )#( ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 hazbin hcs. )

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itsagrimm · 4 months

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What is a Russian Character and How to write them

As @sarapaprikas-blog and I were working on this post, we noticed a gap of knowledge and public perception that we want to address. Plenty of characters get labelled as Russian in media without necessarily being Russian. On the other hand the Archetypal ”Russian” character often does not mirror the realities of being Russian. We are to talk about that.

What is Russia?

Russia is a country. It is the largest country in the world with over 140 million inhabitants, stretching over 11 time zones. It is often seen as the successor state to the Soviet Union, which in itself was the successor state of the Russian Empire. The Soviet Union and Russia do not have the same borders or government. However, modern Russia draws a lot from its history as the largest and dominant part of the Soviet Union. Before the Soviet Union, the area was governed by the Russian Empire. The Russian Empire, as the name already indicates, was imperialist. The history as an Empire with massive expansion, colonies and conquering different people, is arguably the biggest reason why modern Russia is as big as it is today.

What is Russian?

There is a difference between the language Russian, the ethnicity Russian, and the nationality Russian. In English the difference can be made out only by context.

Who is Russian?

As aforementioned, there is a difference between Russian (Россиянин) meaning citizen of Russia, and ethnically Russian (Русские). The term Russian (Русские) usually refers to ethnicity, indicating a person who has Russian roots. Russian (Россиянин) implies Russian citizenship, regardless of ethnicity. Thus, a Russian can be someone with Russian citizenship, but not all Russian citizens are Russians in the ethnic sense. Also, not all ethnic Russians have Russian citizenship or live within Russia.

Ethnic-Russians are an East Slavic people. Obviously, they mainly live in Russia. But there are also large communities in Ukraine, Kazakhstan, Belarus, Latvia, Lithuania, and other countries. The traditional religion among Russians is Orthodox Christianity. The main language is Russian.

The country Russia is home to more than 190 ethnicities, including indigenous and autochthonous people, leading to a variety of languages, religions and practiced cultures. So, someone who holds a Russian citizenship, has ethnic Russian heritage and / or speaks Russian, can look very different than the cliche Russian bond girl or evil-doer indicates. That also means that those who get labelled Russian can live very different lives. Writing a Russian character gives you a lot of room outside of the prevalent stereotyped depictions.

Who is not Russian?

Simple - those who say they are not Russian, are not Russian.

Who are Slavs? What is Slavic?

The slavic people are a variety of people, ethnically Russian people are part of that group. However, there are a lot of other ethnic groups that are Slavs without being Russian e.g. Poles, Sorbs, Czech, Ukrainians, and many more. Slavic is the corresponding adjective to Slavs. It is often used to describe the indo-Slavic language group. Slavic is also often used to describe the collectively perceived similarities of Slavic peoples' culture. However, that can be misleading and get’s often orientalised as not everything from Eastern-Europe or Russia is slavic.

Russian vocabulary Да - Yes Нет - No Привет - Hi Здравствуйте - Hello Как дела ? - How are you? Хорошо - Good Пожалуйста - Please Не за что - my pleasure До свидания - Goodbye Пока - bye Увидимся - See you later Хорошего дня - Have a nice day Простите - I'm sorry. (Plural or honoured addressee) Помогите, пожалуйста. - Help me please. (Plural or honoured addressee) Доброе утро - Good morning Доброй ночи - Good night. Добрый день - Good day / afternoon.

Pet names in Russian About pet names. They are either masculine of feminine . Please don't use words like darling, kitten, baby, pretty, sweetie, little one, little fox, etc. as they sound really strange in translation to native speakers. Pet names are common for close ones (family, close friends, spouses). Sometimes primary school teachers call students by affectionate names. Also sweet old lady may call you ( Дорогой/ Дорогая). But outside of that nobody calls each other by pet names, only using names because Russians are very reserved and private people in general. Gender neutral pet names: жизнь моя - my life солнце мое - my sun or my sunshine ты мое все - you my everything. лучик - sunray. мое сокровище - my treasure. мое золотце - my gold or sweetheart. моя любовь - my love. ты моя радость - you are my joy. ангелочек - Angel. прелесть моя - my precious.

Queerness and gender-neutral speech in Russian Being queer in Russia is hard as queers face oppression. Because of that, there is limited to no public discourse on how to adapt and diversify the language to include queer and especially non-binary identities. This is a problem as the Russian language is extremely gendered and expresses a gender binary in near default. While gender neutral pronouns in Russian exist, it's harder to use them in real life as the neutral pronoun “оно” is mostly associated with things or animals and not living humans, similar to the English “it”. Often words generally do not have gender neutral alternatives. However, one way we suggest for a more gender neutral speech is to avoid most explicit gendering as the flexible syntax in combination with using plural pronouns in Russian allow for more gender neutral speech. For Example: Я люблю их всем моих сердцем - I love them with all my heart. Расскажи мне о них! - Tell me about them. Дай им время- give them time. Я горжусь ими - I'm proud of them. Они сделает это сами - they do it themselves. Read more about queerness in Russia here: one two three four

Russian swearing In Russia, swearing is considered a sign of rudeness and poor manners. Use accordingly. Also, as mentioned here, Russian syntax and inflection are different from English. Meaning one word can be a whole sentence. We punctuated every swearing that is technically a whole sentence and therefore can stand on its own grammatically. Блять - fuck Пошел нахуй. - fuck you Хуй - dick Пизда - cunt Мы в пизде. - we are fucked / “We are stuck in the cunt.” Ебать - fuck Ахуел. - are you/they crazy?! Это пиздец. - this fucked up Мудак - asshole Завали ебало. - shut the fuck up Сука - bitch Черт - damn Непизди. - stop fucking lying. / Cut your bullshit. Пиздобол - Person who lies a lot/ Don't lie Мамку твою ебал. - i fucked your mom (mostly used by middle schoolers, here in grammatically masculine gender.) Заебись. - holy shit (could be bad or good depend on situation) Похуй! - I don't fucking care. Навешать пиздюлей - to beat up someone. Срать тебе в рот - To crap in your mouth. Ты ебанулся. - Are you batshit crazy. Заебал. - I'm sick of you. Жопа - ass. Иди в баню. - soft version of Иди нахуй.

Explanation of the Russian Naming System & Patronyms

The Russian naming system consists of three main elements: first name, patronymic and last name. Name: This is the first name given to a child at birth. In Russia, the names are chosen by the parents or relatives of the child. Names can be both traditional (Alexander, Anna, Ekaterina) and modern (Sofia, Victoria, Yaroslav). Patronymic: this is the second name, which reflects the child's origin from his father. Some cultures in Russia also use the mothers name. The patronymic name among Russian people arose in the 10th - 11th centuries and was used infrequently at first, but became widespread around the 16th century. It is formed by adding the suffix "-ovich" or "-aries" to the father's name. For example, if the father's name is Ivan, then his child Ivan or Ivanna will be called Ivan Ivanovich or Ivanna Ivanovna. Last name: This is a family surname that is passed down from generation to generation. It is usually assigned at birth and does not change without special circumstances. Surnames can come from various sources, such as profession, place of residence, origin, or personal characteristics. As a result, a person's full name consists of a first name, a patronymic (if applicable) and a last name, for example: Ivan Ivanovich Petrov.

How to respectfully address a person in Russian. In Russian there are two ways to address someone. Using the polite you (Вы) amd using the formal you (Ты). The choice of mode depends on how well you know the other person and whether you are superior or inferior in terms of age and social position. If you know the person's first name you refer to them by first name and patronymic. For examples: Борис Юрьевич, Ваши рабочие отлично справились с ремонтом- Boris Yurievich, your workers did a great job with repairs. Adults never address a person by name, only by surname or patronymic unless the addressee gives permission to address them in an informal manner. Regulations of most military require their members address each other in formal you( Вы ); subordinates address commanders as товарищ (comrade) + rank , while higher ups address subordinates by military rank and surname. Example: [Colonel to Sgt. Sidorov] Сержант Сидоров, ко мне! Sergeant Sidorov, front and center! [sgt. Sidorov to colonel] По вашему приказанию прибыл, товарищ полковник! Reporting for duty [lit. arrived at your (pl.) request], comrade colonel! Military men sometimes use same forms of address, albeit in singular, in friendly conversation. Example: Сержант, дай сигарету. - Give (sing.) me a cigarette, Sarge. Military hierarchy in Russia You can find useful links here. One Two

#könig #sarapaprikasblog #nikto #call of duty 3 #call of duty modern warfare 3 #creative writing #nik cod #nikolai belinski #cod #cod modern warfare #gromsko #call of duty #gromsko cod #sobiesław kościuszko #grimmwriting #sebastian krueger

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nyimasu · 1 year

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INCHES IN BETWEEN US — BUDDHA X FEM!READER

ART CREDIT!

— CW : size kink, buddha is THE master of teasing, sweets are involved in this one (keep reading ehe), sacrilegious stuff, lots of foreplay, pet names (petal), praise kink, fingering and oral (f receiving), prone bone position

— WORD COUNT : 2.1k┊AO3 LINK

NOTE : who would've thought buddha would break me out of my writer's block *heavy sigh* you better watch out in the future for other unholy thoughts of mine about him and other ror's charas 🤭

P.S : sweeteries of the sort are NOT safe to use on intimate parts! I just added it here for funsies but you all stay safe out there please <;3

It’s too much, the dash of distance between you and him. Too close, yet so far from one another.

Nevertheless, his warmth overwrites yours like the other times as the man inches closer to your parted lips, a bright smile bordering his own while a strong hand covers your breast altogether. You close your eyes, whiny whimpers clogging your throat.

The differences between you and your partner are too many to count, starting from status and height. To feel him hover over your smaller frame is enough to make you spiral.

But not as much as when he starts to tease you about it.

A gentle kiss on the tip of your nose, then his mouth is a breath away from yours. His earrings jingle as he straddles you, lips curled in a sly smirk.

“Aw, what’s the matter? Too big of a boy for ya, uhm? You want just the tip, petal?”

A shaky sob rips through your chest at the question, eyes flying to stare into the holy ones transfixed on your body. But Buddha is far from being divine, purposely avoiding the mere enlightenment of the mind whenever he’s with you.

Why indulge himself in that when he can experience such pleasurable things such as your lips coated in sugar?

He takes off his glasses with his free hand while kneading the tender flesh of your tits caged in his other one. He leaves them on one of the many pillows scattered across the room, similar to the ones you are laying on (not a big fan of beds, the both of you).

Buddha grazes your nipples with his palm, hard, and your reaction makes him smirk.

So needy for me.

“Want me to keep doing it? Ah-ah”, he tuts when you shake your head, out of breath. “Let me hear that cute voice of yours.”

“N-no, I need you here.” you point at your crotch with your eyes, embarrassment laced with desire boiling in your veins. Buddha can feel how wet you are through the fabric of his robes, too, but he won’t let you off the hook so easily.

“Where, exactly?” he whispers, a hint of amusement tainting his voice as his fingers circle your breast and then down to graze the navel. His touch lingers on it for a second then he looks up at you, waiting.

If you stop talking, he won’t move.

He’s going to be the death of you.

“Keep going, please.” it’s a feeble, pathetic plea the one that reaches him, but he obliges all the same. On his own terms, of course.

The noise of something being unwrapped should startle you, but you are used to it. However, you can’t help but roll your eyes at the sound, especially because you know what it means.

“Did you just roll your eyes at me?” “Me? Never.” you stare at Buddha through lidded eyes. Somehow you still have some brattiness left in you, and you use it to your advantage when you raise a hand to his crotch, palming him through the robes. Oh.

You’re not the only one riled up.

His hiss proves you right, and so does the white stick poking out of his mouth: he really popped a lollipop in his mouth. A strawberry flavoured one, to be exact.

Everytime he eats one of them, it means you are going to be bedridden for a while.

Black orbs pierce your soul as he chuckles, “Ah, petal. You are going to be so much fun for centuries to come. My pretty, sweet petal.”

The tinge of possessiveness in those last words leaves you breathless, but you shoot him a beaming smile he copies right away. He will not get bored of you anytime soon, and you’re far too gone for him to back down now.

The softness of the moment turns into lust as Buddha tilts his head to the side, you gawking at him as he rolls the pink globe of sugar on his lips from one side to another.

His tongue swirls around it a few times and while he does so, he strips himself of his clothes. — what’s left of them, because the tank top had been ripped to shreds by you an hour ago.

That stark body of his, every inch of it sculptured and forged by millenia of godly training, is always a sight to see.

You feel your mouth water and almost choke on it at the sensation of his erection pushing against your thigh. He’s so pleased with your reaction — your body chanting in ecstasy for him is always music to his ears. Buddha rewards you by bending down, lollipop pushed aside in his mouth to capture your lips in a passionate kiss.

A sudden attack at your resolve to stay focused, not to give in so quickly to him, but it doesn’t work.

In the haze of the moment you suck on his canines and he moans, gaze roaming your face as he breaks the kiss and sighs out,

“Seems you can’t wait any longer, am I right?”

“I’m not the only one.” you shoot back and Buddha chuckles. Touché.

The arousal between your thighs pools more and more with every clever stroke he resumes to give to the lollipop. You try to rub them together and give yourself some sort of relief, but he's having none of that.

The deity stares you down, one eyebrow raised.

For a moment, you catch the glimpse of lilies swallowing his pupils, then they vanish.

You are unaware of his next move, but he’s not.

“Budd-” before you can finish, he presses the candy on your lower lip, prying your mouth open until the lollipop falls on your tongue. The taste of him on your taste buds makes you dizzy.

“Talk to me.”

His lips ghost over your body as he descends, his hands already on your thighs stretching them open. You do so without breaking eye contact, and when the space between your legs is enough for his frame to fill, his hair tickles your skin. Buddha leaves a sticky trail of kisses everywhere he can reach, breathing on them when you suddenly yelp.

He notices it and stares up at you just as you do the same, sprawled atop the pile of fluffy pillows and veils of the bedroom.

Magnificent, Buddha sighs in his mind and a grin is all he gives away when another warm, clear wave of arousal leaks through your pussy.

“Do you need me here?” his tongue on your thigh.

“Or here?”

When he moves again, you almost flee your skin.

“My God yes, right there.” out of reflex, you bury your fingers in his hair as he wraps his tongue around your clit, sucking on it while you yank at the locks, whining. Buddha knows better than wearing it up around you for you adore to see his long, soft strands glide over your body like silken streams of water.

To your displeasure he stops his ministrations to spare you a puzzled look, as if he heard you say the lewdest of lies. And to him, it is.

“Not God.

Me.”

And without missing a beat, Buddha dips his head down to take half of your soppy cunt in his mouth, easing two fingers in you at the same time.

You arch your back in shock, biting on the lollipop for dear life while the deity between your legs runs his tongue up your folds, humming to himself how sweeter you are than any other candy he ever ate as he fingers your insides, clenching and squeezing him until he scissors them apart. You are not going to take him fully if not fully prepped.

But it’s not enough.

“Buddha,” you keen, despair oozing from your voice as he simply coates his lips in your juices, doing nothing more. “I want more.”

He’s quick to respond without looking at you: “You should let go of any carnal desire you have, petal, if you want to achieve enlightenment.”

He did not just say that when he’s knuckles-deep inside you.

You yank at his roots, merciless, and the action has Buddha groan. The grunt goes straight to your pussy but don’t let it distract you from pushing the man’s head backward. When your eyes clash, you whisper through gritted teeth, “Don’t you dare lecture me about carnality when your cock is hard like a rock against my thigh.

How about you fuck me to Nirvana, instead?

Now that definitely stirs him up, and your words sets him ablaze.

Buddha leaves the comfort of your velvety walls and pussy with a sigh, but the emptiness is soon replaced by his hands behind your knees; he hooks your thighs on his broad shoulders, kissing them as you raise on your elbows to better stare at him.

“Mind if I borrow the lollipop?”

You give it to him, confused, until you watch as he takes it and realise what he wants to do. Your eyes go huge in alarm but Buddha carries on amidst your complaints.

“No-”

“Oh, shut up. We both know you’re not so against it when I do this.”

He kisses your knee to make sure you don’t take his words the wrong way and you immediately relax. Above everything, Buddha is a deity and as such, he acts on whims. And amongst his peers, he’s the most unpredictable one.

When he’s sure you’re not tense anymore, his hand still holding the candy lowers on your pussy and you hold your breath. But you almost faint on the spot when Buddha coats the lollipop in your juices, stroking it along your lower lips to capture every droplet.

That knocks the air out of you for good, and you’re close to hyperventilation when the candy disappears in Buddha’s mouth.

He’s sucking on it slowly, as if your release is a flavour he can’t stop to have in his mouth. Well, you’re not far from the truth.

“What a good girl”, he coos as he helps you get down on the pillows again, cupping your face the moment he comes up to peck at your lips in adoration. “Lemme taste you a bit more. Come on, don’t be shy.”

You smile, dragging him in another kiss he eagerly accepts.

But then, the world spins and you with it.

When you come to be, you notice you’re laying flat on your stomach, face buried in the pillows. What just happened?

You rise to your elbows once more and look from above your shoulder to see Buddha on his feet, legs slightly open as you watch him pump himself a few times, his own need for you so strong that the tip of his cock is already covered in precum. His gaze, transfixed at the sight of your glistening pussy, darkens the moment he feels your eyes on him.

He’s so aroused he can barely think straight.

“Why are you so far away from me?” you ask with a pout and Buddha sucks in a breath. Veins popping out on his neck, he waits for you to smile at him and when you do, another sigh claws its way out of him.

Not only you motion for Buddha to come back, but to lure him faster you spread your legs as much as you can, giving the man a full view of your cunt clamp, spasm around nothing.

“Fuck.”

“See? I need you inside me,” you’re eyeing him shamelessly and he doesn’t mind it at all. “Don’t make me wait. Please.”

So the moment he falls to his knees you smile, and he hides his face in the crook of your neck as he pushes a hand on your waist and his cock finally, finally dives into you. He moves slowly to let you adjust to his girth, and you cry in relief with each little thrust.

Every inch of his brush your sweet spots without even trying and you breathe in loudly when he bottoms out. He fills you to the brim just by staying still and Buddha is doing his best to stop himself from rutting into you. He can’t let his cock think for him, too.

But just feeling you clench around him and moan with every love bite he leaves on your neck as you take him and see goosebumps run all over your skin because of it — he’s going mad.

Your pupils are blown with lust when he tilts your head towards him, and he wastes no time in spitting the stick of the lollipop on the floor to grab you by the chin and stare at you dead in the eye. “Tell me when to move, petal.”

Spidery fingers wrap around his hand — yours. A sultry laugh escapes you yet he drinks it in when you kiss him, in line with the alluring way your hips keep bucking into his for friction.

Light green hair washes over you as Buddha complies, and when you moan on his lips as he starts to thrust into you he understands one, simple truth.

You really are the sweetest lover who ever graced Heaven and Earth, and he’s so lucky to have you all for himself.

#voice of cassandra #record of ragnarok #record of ragnarok smut #buddha x reader #buddha x you #ror buddha #shuumatsu no valkyrie #snv smut #snv buddha

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skyclan-funny-name-squad · 1 year

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Okay wow I was not expecting my kittypet fae post to take off overnight like this, but I'm glad you all like it! I've been thinking about kittypet culture so this is what I think is the reasoning behind the beliefs.

Kittypets are often well groomed and well fed no matter the season, while wild cats are often groomed there's a softness to kittypet pelts that you don't find in wild pelts. Along with pretty accessories that a wild cat would have no clue what they are like bows. As such they start to seem a bit uncanny valley because they look like you but not Quite. Especially because of more purebred cats who have brighter pelts or unusual colors or strange muzzles or weird ears. Which helps spread the thought that kittypets aren't fully cats, but something similar, something different but the same. Firestar as a purebred orange cat is just a lot naturally brighter or vivid then the more muted oranges that appear in the wild, and that scares cats.

Kittypets also like to share with their wild friends, they see their friend skinny and cold and want to bring them inside where they can get food and get warm. So they tend to offer it pretty often, however cats that do this start to get used to the ease of food and warmth of the den and find it harder to stay wild or to stay away from twolegs. Some kittypets may even aid twolegs in trapping their friends for the sake of protecting their friends from the harsh outdoors. Which everyone knows once you've bonded with a twoleg whether you want to or not your transformation into one of them is nearly complete.

Kittypet food is also meant to fill a cat as its been fine-tuned to fit the needs of a cat so even if a cat doesn't think it tastes as good as mouse, it still fills them in ways they may struggle to get with hunting. So cats that risk taking a bit start to go back for more, especially in harder hunting series. Sure sparrow may be a bit tastier but if its a sparrow once a week during leafbare or kittypet food every day, cats are going to be tempted.

With kittypets not being in a war culture and often just chilling beyond mild spats means there's more room for other activities like a lot more gossip and stories, news travels fast between cats because kittypets are horrendous gossips which means if you fuck over a kittypet, every other kittypet is going to hear about it and shame you for it. To clan cats it's shocking because kittypet news travels throughout an entire twolegplace and even beyond it thanks to some kittypets that travel in like trucks and stuff, so it can seem like despite being nowhere near the original kittypet, everyone still magically knows how you messed up. This extends to their friends as well, if you beat up a cat that the kittypets consider a friend over a border dispute all the kittypets are going to be like "hey why'd you do that that was mean" and potentially chase you away.

Now for names is something I think is interesting because kittypets are never really like "my names Mouse but the twolegs call me Mittens" so clearly twoleg names have some priority here for kittypets, while the significance of this can very between whatever you want really, its clearly important. So if you get taken in by a twoleg to heal a wound and the twoleg starts calling you Pants, then suddenly all the kittypets call you by that name. No matter how much you insist your name is Twigpounce, you're Pants now. Plus if you're actively stuck with kittypets, you'll start going by Pants as well. Thus the kittypet's steal your name.

Cats that come back from twolegs always come back changed, from how they talk, to how they walk, to what food they eat, to the things they say. They can still shake off the influence and return to the wild, but they'll always be a bit off, a bit different. Everyone knows Tallstar was pet-touched a long time ago from how he acts, but everyone politely doesn't bring it up.

Avoid kittypets! They're tricksters that look like us but they're liars with their fake mice and fake warmth! Do not trust! They aren't true cats! They're something different! Something more dangerous! Do not be tricked!

Also Longtail still throws down with Rusty because he's an idiot and also probably hoping that this will make the scary fae child leave his clan alone.

#warrior cats #warriors #warrior cat #warrior #tallstar #firestar #kittypet #fae kittypet au #longtail

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shadowlali · 7 months

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ranch owner alejandro pining after the town pastor's daughter. she sneaks him out during a little soiree in celebration for alejandro's return after herding his cattle up north for sale. so ale being the gentleman that he is, refuses at first but brings her to his ranch anyway. they go into the homestead and they *CAR CRASH NOISES*

pastor's daughter

COD AU - Rancher!Alejandro Vargas x pastor's daughter!reader

[18+] wc: ~ 2.8k masterlist part two

warnings: NSFW, some proofreading, no use of Y/N nor too many details on reader’s appearance (reader can be picked up by Alejandro and he’s taller than her), POV swapping (hopefully easier to follow than my last work), pet names (mami, niña, traviesa), mutual pining, fingering, oral (f! receiving), unprotected sex a/n: not sure if anyone has noticed but i am obsessed with writing the scent of the COD men. i had to look up the definition of homestead and i think its a farmhouse/ranch house? sorry if i got that wrong nonnie <3. tejana is a style of cowboy hats. traviesa means naughty (feminine). niña means girl/little girl but can also be used in romantic settings. niña traviesa means naughty girl

This was a bad idea. The church only wants to show their gratitude, but his collar feels tight and his pants even tighter. You walk around the patio in a dress that just about reaches the tops of your knees. Your soft thighs peek from underneath and it takes all of Alejandro’s strength to stay away. He can only watch from afar as you talk amongst the parishioners like a perfect little host.

This particular soiree is due to his recent and ongoing donations to the church after another successful sale of cattle up north. Alejandro tries to lie to himself, that he does this because he's a good, God-fearing man. That it has absolutely nothing to do with how after each donation, you hug him and press your warm body to his. It has nothing to do with how you kiss his cheek bordering the corner of his mouth and whisper your thanks in his ear.

Alejandro isn’t stupid; lustful, but not stupid. He can see the mischievous smiles you send his way, the lingering looks. While he might be tempted, God knows he is, you being the pastor’s daughter stops him every time. All hell would break loose if anyone in town found out the wealthy rancher was messing around with the pastor’s daughter. Alejandro can wonder what you look like beneath the pretty dresses and pink bows, but he won’t allow himself to touch.

“Alejandro,” the town’s pastor says as he places a hand on Alejandro’s shoulder, “gracias de nuevo. That money is going to help us so much.” [Thank you again]

He blinks as he faces your father, quickly focusing his attention on the conversation. “Of course, it was the least I could do.” Alejandro wonders if the pastor can read his mind, if his face shows any guilt or surprise.

“This church will look brand new by the end of the year and so many children will have new school books,” the pastor continues.

“Alejandro, always so generous,” you say while drifting over to your dad’s side.

“He really is, God will repay with much more,” the pastor says while saying a prayer. “I have to go speak to the other guests,” your father turns to you,”why don’t you show him the Sunday school classroom?”

“I can do that,” you respond while linking your arm through Alejandro’s.

His body stills at the touch of your hand but he lets you lead him into the church. The double doors are open and light streams in from the setting sun, illuminating Alejandro’s tan skin. He looks like a man, strong muscles from working outside everyday and big hands that can easily pick you up. The heat from his body roams over your skin, your nipples becoming sensitive and wetness pooling in your panties. Definitely not the reaction you should be having while in church.

You’ve wanted Alejandro from the moment you met him. He’s different from the younger guys in the congregation, more confident and self assured with a voice that holds so much authority. It's no surprise that the other single women at church try to flirt with Alejandro and get his attention, yet you know his eyes follow only you.

Being the pastor’s daughter means every aspect of your life is carefully monitored by your parents. From the clothes you wear to the way you talk, everything must be perfect. And it is, to an extent. You play the character well and no one suspects it's a facade. Beneath the bible verses imprinted on your brain and the modest dresses that cover your body is a deep ache. Something that you hope Alejandro can fill.

His voice is soft and low, ”te ves hermosa.” [You look beautiful]

You smile, even though Alejandro tries his best to keep you at arms length, sometimes he can’t help but give compliments or lingering looks. Now standing in the middle of the church, you take in the black cowboy boots, dark jeans, and white short sleeved button up. Each article of clothing fits his arms and strong thighs perfectly. He clears his throat and takes off his tejana to run a hand through his thick hair, red blooming on his neck.

“Thank you, you look nice too. Although, a little tired right?” You respond.

He hums in response,” Yeah, a little. Lots of work.”

You slowly mold your front to his, uncaring that the doors are wide open and anyone can walk in. You place your hands on his chest and run one up to caress the soft hair on his head right underneath his hat. Alejandro grabs your waist but doesn’t push you away. His eyes flick between your lips and back up to your eyes

“Your body must be so sore,” you voice just above a whisper.

He breaks eye contact to stare up at the ceiling, breathing deep. “What are you doing, traviesa?”

You continue, ”Wouldn’t it be nice for someone to massage all the pain away from your body?”

A small groan vibrates in his chest when you place a light kiss on his jaw. Alejandro closes his eyes and grips you tighter but doesn’t respond.

“My dad brought out the good wine. Soon no one will care or remember where we went–”

“This is a bad idea.”

“If you take me back to your ranch I can show you how much of a good idea this is.”

As he opens his mouth, you hear voices approaching the doors. He gently pushes you off of him and you think he’s going to walk away but instead he grabs your hand and leads you out the other exit. You both manage to exit the building without being noticed by anyone else. He walks quickly to his truck and unlocks the doors with the keys from his pocket. Alejandro swings open the passenger door and motions for you to get in. Before he closes the door, he glances back at the church for a few moments.

“Alejandro?”

He turns back to you and closes the passenger door. He walks around the truck and jumps in the driver’s side. His ranch isn’t far, only about a 10 minute drive. You can’t exactly read his thoughts. He holds your hand in his much bigger one, but his eyes stay on the road and he doesn’t say anything else. You decide to stay quiet too. The drive is soon over and Alejandro parks the truck in front of his ranch.

“This is a bad–”

You roll your eyes,” So you keep saying. Then what are we doing here, Alejandro?”

He finally turns to look at you, his eyes sweeping the entirety of your face. He nods once and yanks you over to him, your tummy pressed against the center console and his hand cradling your skull. Finally, Alejandro’s lips meet yours. Despite how desperately he grabbed you, the kiss is soft. It’s nothing like you were expecting. His lips are plump and his trimmed beard tickles your sensitive skin.

You kick off your shoes and unbuckle the seatbelt, breaking the kiss to climb over the center console. Alejandro groans once you land in his lap and he unbuckles his seat belt as well. You fuse your mouths again, this time more overcome with need.

His cologne isn’t strong, but you can smell cedarwood mixed with his sweat. You breathe deeper, loving his scent. Alejandro wraps his hands around your lower back and pulls your hips in closer. Your dress slides up and you land right on his hard length. Whimpers leave your mouth as you gently rock into his lap.

With your hands on his neck you can feel the rapid pulse of his heart under your thumb. You keep grinding your clit against the rough material of his jeans, most likely soaking them. Alejandro presses his tongue to your bottom lip and you open your mouth, pressing your tongue to his.

It’s entirely wet and sloppy and desperate but this kiss is exactly what you need. He moves a hand to grip your jaw and begins to nip a path down to your neck.

“Mami,” he drags out the word, "I've wanted this for so long.” Alejandro’s licks and presses small kisses on your neck.

“All you had to do was ask,” you moan.

“Lets go inside, yeah?”

You nod quickly and move off his lap to press against the center console. He opens the door and gets out, a wet spot present on his jeans from where you grinded down. You begin to reach for your shoes but he grips your thighs and you get the message.

You wrap your arms around his shoulders and link your legs around his lower back. Alejandro is strong, carrying you with no issue. You kiss and run your nose over his neck wanting to be as close to him as possible. Without dropping you, he unlocks the front door.

“We’ll go up to my room–”

“No,” you whine, ”I want you now.”

He kicks the door closed and walks fast at your words until he reaches the living room. You unlink your legs to move to the couch but he stops you, spinning you around and making you bend over the armrest.

Your face lands in one of the pillows as he flips up your dress and yanks down your panties in one fluid movement. Alejandro touches and pinches the soft skin on your ass before landing a quick slap.

He watches the recoil and does it a few more times, slap, slap, slap, loving the moans that fall from your mouth. He kicks open your legs and watches your pussy open like a flower. It glistens with your arousal, swollen and pretty.

Alejandro watches your hands grip the pillow the moment he sinks a finger into your warm entrance and places another hand on your lower back to hold you down.

“Qué niña tan traviesa,” he says as his finger curves inside of you,” if only your parents could see you now.” [What a naughty girl]

He plunges another finger inside, twisting and moving them faster. “Hermosa, and perfect,” he bites out, ”just needed someone to ruin her, yeah?”

You bite the pillow, tears pricking the corner of your eyes with each plunge of his fingers. You manage to stutter out a yes, oh God, yes before you’re back to drooling on the pillow. You can hear him laugh behind you and press himself closer. You don’t have much room to move with Alejandro’s hand pressing on your lower back.

Your swollen clit begs for just a little attention. A few swipes with his big fingers and you’ll come instantly. You were already close in the truck, and you can hear the obscene squelches of your pussy and his fingers.

Before you ask, he drops to his knees behind you. His fingers keep moving and you feel the gentle touch of his tongue on your clit. You jump at the sensation, attempting to grind back on his tongue but his hand stops you.

“Stay still or I’ll stop.”

You listen to him. He moves his hand from your lower back to grip your ass cheek then flicks his tongue on your clit. The arousal drips from your little hole down to your clit, giving him a taste of your sweetness.

Alejandro decides to be selfish, moving his tongue up to gather more of your taste, knowing you're close from the pulse and flutter of your walls on his fingers. He can hear you begging above him, por favor, por favor, por favor.

Alejandro moves back to your little button and flicks his tongue repeatedly. You tighten around his fingers and your body begins to shake. You let out a scream into the pillow as you feel warm shocks spread from your core.

He doesn’t stop you while you grind back on his face, pussy swollen and overstimulated from his tongue and beard. He lets up once you move your hips forward and reach a hand down to push him away.

Alejandro stands back up, wiping his face with his clean hand. He unbuckles his belt and drags down his zipper, releasing the tension on his dick. He grips himself with the hand still covered in your arousal and pumps his length.

He presses the tip right at your entrance and pushes in a tiny bit. You try to rock back into him but once again he stops you with a hand on your back. You lift up your head with a whine.

“Alejandro, please.”

“Please what, niña?”

You groan, frustration burning in your chest.

“Come on, traviesa,” he mocks, ”what do you want?”

He keeps rocking into you, the tip breaching your entrance but not quite pushing in.

“Please fuck me! Please, please –”

Alejandro thrusts in with one swift movement, sinking all the way into you. You bite on the pillow and groan deep within your chest. He stills, hands gripping your hips. Your walls pulse around his length to adjust to his size and he lands another slap to your ass.

“No te muevas, no te muevas, ¡no!” He repeats through gritted teeth. [Don’t move, don’t move, don’t!]

You can’t help it, you flutter around him and rock back. He lets out a pained breath and slowly slides out before roughly thrusting back in. Alejandro claims every inch of your pussy with each deep thrust. He starts slow and once he’s found a good rhythm, begins snapping his hips faster. You’re delirious and stretched to your limit, screams muffled by the pillow.

“Niña tan perfecta, ruined by me. What would everyone in Las Almas think if they saw you? If they knew how wet you were for me, hmm?” [Perfect girl]

You jerk back and squeeze around him.

“Mierda – you’d, you’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Alejandro continues.

You’re too cockdrunk to respond and can only manage to whine his name over and over. The longing looks, teasing, desire burning in your stomach every time you saw Alejandro; it all led to this moment.

This beautiful moment where his cock fills and marks you from the inside. You can feel the mess you're making, slick covering your inner thighs and his base.

Alejandro feels the heat claw in his lower stomach. He won’t last much longer plunging into your wet pussy.

“I, I need you close, hermosa,” he says as he reaches a hand to rub your clit.

He gathers your mess with two fingers and brings it up to your button. Already too overstimulated to think, you unravel underneath him. Drool comes out of your mouth as it opens in a silent scream. You quiver and shake around him while he plunges into you.

Alejandro’s vision flashes white and suddenly he’s spilling thick cum in your little hole. Each snap of his hips is hard and rough until he empties himself completely. He pulls out slightly to see the mess he made inside of you.

With the small amount of energy left in his body, Alejandro stands you up, takes a few steps and lands with a thud on the couch, never once slipping out of you.

Your back presses against his front and your thighs are spread on either side of his legs. No words are said in the next moments, only the sound of heaving breaths heard through the living room. His hands move to caress your thighs and you lean your head on his shoulder.

“Okay?” Alejandro asks.

You turn and press a kiss to his jaw, ”Amazing.”

He lets you rest for a few more minutes before he ushers you into the bathroom. With a washcloth he wipes the tears and sweat from your face. He cleans up the slick and come that drips out and then makes you sit on the counter while he changes his jeans for a clean pair. You don’t notice him pocket your tiny panties.

“We need to get back,” he says as he places a soft kiss on your forehead.

You have a happy smile on your face as you begin to feel the ache in your core. You’re going to need a long soak in the tub once you get home.

“Let’s go,” you say.

Alejandro carries you bridal style back to the truck and you put your shoes back on. Soon, your back at the church, cars still in the parking lot. After checking your reflection one last time in the mirror, Alejandro leads you back in.

“Where have you two been?” Your father asks as you and Alejandro walk back out to the patio.

He’s sitting on one of the chairs with your mother and a few other parishioners. You can see a few bottles of wine now empty and cups spread across the table.

“We were –,” Alejandro begins.

“I was showing Alejandro some of my favorite bible quotes in your office. I guess time just... got away from us.”

“Que dulce, mi niña,” your mother replies. [How sweet, my girl]

A few others happily agree, not suspecting a single thing.

“Que dulce,” Alejandro says as his hand rubs your lower back.

#alejandro vargas x reader #alejandro vargas x female reader #alejandro vargas smut #cod x reader #cod mw2 x female reader #alejandro vargas #cod mw2 smut #shadowlali

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lomlhwa · 1 year

Text

i can't take it (c.sb)

pairing: student!soobin x tutor!reader

preview: if soobin wasn't failing korean history, he never would've met you. he doesn't know whether it would've been better that way or not. all he does know is that, you wouldn't be on top of him right now if he was passing.

tags/warnings: hard dom!fem reader, sub!soobin, bondage, lots of grinding, 69, fingering, handjob + blowjob, a couple slaps across the face for soobin, degrading (reader is MEAN but soobin is into it), praise, pet names (mommy, momma, mistress), edging, overstimulation, f & m orgasms, unprotected penetration (wrap it before you tap it), belly bulge kink, size kink, creampie

trigger warnings: reader is really mean but it's all in the name of pleasure i swear

wc: 2.6k

song recs for this fic: scar by the boyz, chained up by vixx, baby don't stop by nct u, ridin' by nct dream

a/n: this is 2/2 fics dedicated to @toxicccred <3 i really hope you like this subby soob fic. i'm sorry if the random korean war facts in the middle of the smut is weird, it was part of the story T-T

then…

korean history is soobin’s worst class despite literally being korean. he’s not good at memorizing dates or people’s names. his history classes in general are not his forte.

hell, the only thing he’s managed to remember from this class is the name of the pretty girl that sits at the front of the class and always has her hand up.

“y/n,” the teacher says, interrupting soobin’s train of thought with the name of the exact person he was thinking of. “please, enlighten the class with the right answer to my question.”

soobin can see you nod, the smile on your face shining all the way to his back row seat.

“the korean war was fought between north and south korea following clashes along the border and rebellions in the south. said war began on june 25th, 1950,” mr park smiles at you. his favorite student. the undeniably pretty teacher’s pet.

“can you repeat what y/n said, mr choi?” the teacher calls up to soobin, once again snapping him out of a bored daze. you turn around to look at him, catching him off guard.

“t-the korean war was between t-the north and s-south over rebellions and border c-clashes,” he stumbles over his words, avoiding looking at you while he speaks. he knows what you said. he always listens when you speak.

“and when did it begin, soobin,” mr park pressed on. “o-on j-june 25th, 1950,” the teacher, now obviously satisfied with borderline humiliating soobin, goes back to his lesson. you almost feel bad for him.

by the end of class, you’d answered every single one of mr park’s questions and he had tormented soobin to repeat what you had said every time. he honestly wanted to disappear.

“soobin, please stay after class” the teacher says as the bell rings. he sighs and gathers his things before walking up to the front of the class.

“you do realize you’re failing, right?” mr park says as soon as soobin is standing in front of him. soobin nods. “ 43% in my class is not going to get you this credit, soobin. you need to start paying attention and doing the work or i’ll have to fail you-” his rant is interrupted by a sudden knock on the door.

he mumbles a ‘come in’ and you peek your lovely little head into the classroom. he almost finds himself smiling in your presence. you smile at the teacher before sauntering into the class.

“i’m sorry, i couldn’t help but overhear that soobin is failing your class, mr park” you make a fake sad noise at the teacher. he laughs and nods. “i could tutor him” soobin’s eyes widen. he swears that they almost fell out of his head in shock.

“that is a wonderful idea, y/n. what a kind offer,” you smile at soobin, finally forcing him to really acknowledge you. “what do you think?” soobin nods hesitantly at you.

“words, soobin,” your statement almost sounds like a command. it sends chills through his body. “yes, i would appreciate your help.” mr park clasps his hands together and sighs.

“if you don’t get your grade up with y/n’s help, i will fail you,” the teacher threatened. soobin gulped before darting for the door to get to his next class, which he was 15 minutes late for.

now…

soobin fiddles with his fingers, sitting at your desk in your bedroom. you’re getting a sheet of paper out from your bag and he can’t help but peek into your shirt as you’re bent down.

“okay, soobie, how many times was seoul captured during the korean war?” you ask him. it’s his weekly quiz on everything you’ve tutored him on. your midterm exams are coming up and soobin needs to pass.

“uhhh, 4 times?” you nod before reading over your question sheet again. you came across a question soobin consistently got incorrect. a question that would for sure be on your exam.

“when did the fighting end and what signified the end?” you cock your eyebrow at him. you’re going to be very upset if he gets this wrong. you’ve done nothing but go over it for the past week.

“20th of july, 1953 and i don’t know what signified it,” soobin looks defeated as you shake your head in disappointment.

“you really can’t do anything right, can you? can you answer a question correctly?” are you… berating him? it feels like something deeper than that to him. it feels somehow dirtier.

“are you too busy staring down my shirt to fucking listen to me when i speak, soobin?” it is something deeper. you’re not berating him, you’re degrading him.

“is that what your problem is, you stupid slut?” you pull your shirt over your head and glare at him. “are these all you’re interested in?” you grab him by the hair and shove his face between your breast. “is this what you wanted from me? did you really think i wouldn’t notice your glances?”

soobin’s eyes roll into the back of his head as you speak to him. who knew that such mean, degrading words could come out of your pretty mouth? he can feel the tent in his pants getting bigger and tighter every time a sentence comes out of you.

“i knew you’d wanted me to fuck you since we met. i saw the way you looked at me every time i walked into class,” soobin flushes red. he thought he’d been discreet.

you pull his head away from your chest and connect your lips. you get up off your chair, grabbing soobin by the collar and leading him to your bed. you disconnect for a moment so you can tell him to sit on your bed. you settle yourself in his lap, your core hovering directly over his bulge.

you reconnect your lips in a messy clash of tongues and pools of saliva. you suck on his bottom lip before biting it lightly. you rock your hips back and forth on his growing bulge. he tilts his head back and lets out a deep groan.

“you’re fucking pathetic, you know that?” you say as you crawl down your bed. you gesture for him to undo the button and zipper on his jeans. you tug them down his legs before tugging his underwear down too.

when you take in his full size, your mouth gapes in shock. he’s massive. you can barely wrap your hand around it fully. how is this size even naturally possible?

you take your own pants and underwear off before crawling back up to him. you plant a fat kiss on his lips before flipping around and hovering your core over his face. you come face to face with his length, the tip red and dripping precum.

you wrap your hand around him the best you can before leaning down and swirling your tongue around the tip. he wraps his arms around your thighs and connects his lips to your sopping cunt. he sucks on it lightly as you pump him at a slow pace.

“what a whore. this hard for your tutor? embarrassing,” you pump him faster and he groans against your core. you lean down again and take as much of him down your throat as you can before gagging. the constriction of your throat makes soobin’s head spin.

you bob your head up and down, trying to take more of him with each pass of your lips. he pulls his mouth away from you and adds his fingers instead. his hips begin to stutter as you pump him along with sucking on him.

“when did the korean war end?” you say, out of the blue. soobin’s eyes fly open, looking at the ceiling. “fuck, i don’t know momma,” you shake your head, disappointed once again. you let go of his length completely and listen to him whine in protest. he was so close.

“whores don’t get to cum until they know the answer,” you reach behind yourself and push his face back to your core. “think about it and make your mistress cum,” you let go of his head and he loses himself in you.

he slurps up your leaking juices. his tongue focusing on your throbbing clit. his nose brushes your hole every once in a while, sending your head spinning. he teases your dripping hole with his fingers, but never fully sinking them in.

you’re shaking and racing towards your orgasm faster than you expected. soobin’s mouth is more talented than you could’ve ever anticipated. soon enough, you’re spilling yourself onto his tongue.

you get off his face and grab his cheeks. “give me the fucking right answer,” you demand. he shakes his head. he really doesn’t know. “dumb slut,” you harshly slap him across the face, but not too hard. soobin’s length twitches at the harsh contact.

you reach into your bedside table and pull out purple ribbon. you unravel two longer parts and grab one of soobin’s hands. you use one of the parts to tie his hand to your headboard, making a cute little bow on his wrist. you repeat the same process on his other wrist.

“what a pretty little bitch, all tied up for me,” you kiss him again. “do you like your cute little bows, whore?” he nods and struggles against his restraints as your brush your hand over his cock lightly. he whines against your mouth when you grip him, pumping ever so slowly.

“i’m gonna quiz you again. every right answer, i’ll go faster. one wrong answer and i’ll stop. don’t fuck up,” you explain. soobin nods hesitantly. he should’ve paid more attention. now, he’ll really have to rack his brain.

“who was the leader of south korea during the korean war?” you halt your hand completely until he answers. “syngman rhee,” he mutters just loud enough for you to hear.

“good boy,” you slowly move your hand again before asking another question. “who was the leader of north korea during the korean war?” soobin pulls against his restraints, your pace driving him insane.

“kim il sung,” another right answer. you pick up the pace again, causing soobin to curse under his breath. he bucks his hips up into your hand, needing more.

“two more questions, slut,” you sigh, rolling your eyes at his desperation. “how many war fatalities?” he should know this one. he always gets this type of question right.

“3 m-million,” correct again. your hand begins a much faster pace. soobin is beginning to lose his mind. his orgasm creeping up on him faster than he’d like. too fast. you’d never let him cum already.

“last one,” you give him a sweet smile. a demonstration of kindness that feels foreign in this situation. “when. did. the. korean. war. end?” you emphasize each word with a hard tug on his length. he knew that’s what you were going to ask.

“july 27th, 1953,” finally. the right answer. you’re over the moon. you speed up just slightly, really smiling at him this time. “good boy. good fucking boy,” he throws his head back, his hips stuttering.

“momma, k-k-kiss m-me, please,” he asked so nicely that you couldn’t resist. you kiss him softly in comparison to your fast pace on his length. his breathing significantly picks up by the minute. you know he’s close.

“cum for me, slut,” you demand. he nods. shooting pathetic ropes of cum all over your hand and his stomach. but, your hand doesn’t stop. you continue your merciless pace. he takes his lips away from yours to cry out at the overstimulation.

“ah! t-too much, mommy,” you scoff at him. “pathetic behavior from a pathetic slut. i know you can give me another one,” your hand quickens again. soobin’s eyes roll back so hard it almost hurts.

when he re-opens them, you’re licking the drying cum off his stomach. his second orgasm hits almost instantly, this time also dirtying your hair in the process. he whines loudly, wishing his hands were free to cover his mouth.

you finally let go of his cock, giving him some time to catch his breath. embarrassment finally hits him. his high pitched whines, the names he called you, those were completely out of his control.

out of nowhere, your mouth is next to his ear. he can feel your hot breath against his skin. “can i take you raw, soobie?” he just about chokes on his own saliva at your question. he nods. “please do, momma.”

you settle your knees on either side of his hips. you lift up slightly to slide him into you. you sink down slowly, the stretch stinging your core. soobin gnaws on his lip as you take him in fully. he can slowly see the outline of himself in your stomach. he desperately wants to reach out and brush his hand on it.

once he’s fully sheathed in you, you just sit there for a moment. you feel like he’s in your organs, his tip practically kissing your cervix. you almost feel like you’re going to explode.

“p-please move, mistress,” your hips move on their own at the title. you nod. you place your hands on his ribs for balance. you lift your hips up before slamming back down. soobin sinks his teeth into his bottom lip, mesmerized by the way you look on top of him.

you set a steady pace riding him, making sure not to press on his ribs too hard. soon, your legs start to cramp and your pace slows down. you’re losing your high and so is soobin.

“lemme help you, mommy,” he pulls at his restraints again. you’re too sore to complain so you untie soobin’s cute little purple bows. he massages his wrists for a moment before turning his full attention back to you.

he places his hands on your hips before snapping his hips up into yours. he manages to set a merciless pace, thrusting up into you. you collapse onto him, wrapping your arms around his neck, panting into his ear.

“momma, gonna cum. please can i cum?” he begs. you nod into his neck. “cum inside me, baby. gonna cum for you too,” you shove your face into his neck more as your orgasm crashes over you.

the way you clench around him, your moans in his ear and all his pent up energy makes him release into you. he pumps into you with 4 pathetic shots. the warmth of him filling you up calms you down.

you get up off him slowly, his cum dripping out of your cunt and staining your bedsheets. you scramble off your bed to grab wet cloths. you come back and place one on soobin’s forehead to cool him down. he hadn’t even realized how hot he’d become. you use the other cold, wet cloth to clean off his stomach and clean yourself.

“i wasn’t too harsh, was i?” you ask, kissing soobin softly all over his face. he shakes his head. “you were perfect, momma.”

“if you fail your exam, i’m gonna be so much worse.”

exam result day…

you grab your result folder from your professor before walking over to soobin. you clasp your hands together and walk to your house hand in hand.

as soon as you walk in, you head for your living room.

you open your results first. 98%. a high grade as expected. you’re satisfied with this result.

soobin’s turn to open his folder. 45%. a fail.

he glances up at you in fear. you scoff in his direction. you gesture down the hall, basically just telling him to get up and walk his ass to your bedroom.

he knows what’s coming.

#lomlhwa #txt #tomorrow x together #soobin #choi soobin #txt smut #tomorrow x together smut #soobin smut #choi soobin smut

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partywithoutsmiling · 30 days

Note

Alright darling (can i call you that?) the Rock Beast AU just became my new ✨️hyperfixation✨️ so prepare! Please tell us how does John reacts to his bitty B becoming a Monster

Once he actually finds out who the great Beast is, not very well obviously XD

But if that AU would be a fic, it would be at least couple chapters down the line. My idea for Poppy's and Branch's escape is that while at first they crossed quite a distance through air, soon they were forced to travel by foot, as Branch's wing becomes injured and trying to take flight again would be foolish.

A blessing in disguise it turns out, as the Rock Trolls under Barb's command do not think to stop and search the ground, not that close to their territory, and our duo hides out of sight in the undegrowth, just to see their Angler Ships pass overhead, clearly heading towards the Pop territory

(the thought for this AU being that Barb is convinced that Pop poses exactly the same amount of threat as it did in the ancient past, where they were the most numerous, and seeing the pitiful number of Pop trolls rounded up, figures there must be more Pop villages hidden deep inside the woods that make their territory- so it would make sense to her to think Poppy and Branch went to get more back up- which is correct in a way, as Branch's intention was to fly them all the way to Bergentown, as having giants for allies would become handy in this case)

Meeting John Dory was a complete accident. Headcanoning that he had bad business with the Rock Trolls in the past, he probably decided to skeddadle into the wilderness once he saw the activity in the sky, not wanting to deal with that business- and I liked the idea that the Neverglades were actually a sort of natural border between Pop and Rock, a contested piece of land for both. Usually quite content to sleep out and about, either under stars or in Rhonda, the storm and all the chaos happening around him has him relocate to well known and explored caves- in which he finds Poppy and Branch, who sort of unanimously decide to keep their travelling to the night time, where it gives them less chance to be spotted.

Neither group is thrilled to be discovered by the other, at first- John Dory simply on the principle that lone trolls seems to be bounty hunters more often than not (and this one has a literal monster by her side!) and Poppy... well, for the exact same reason really XD she had been burned by her trust in a stranger- one that led her into this mess she is in- and the source of her major guilt is standing right behind her.

However, compared to JD, she is injured; an unexpected dip in the lake left her feeling sickly, and she is starving- and Branch is hardly doing any better. So it all ends up in a rather tense stand off, where Branch is the only one spiralling, because holy shit that's his brother

And he wants to wail and he wants to sink his claws into JD's face and tear that smug ass grin off his face- and it's the shock of that thought that has him to do neither of those things, and instead forces him to evaluate the situation a bit better.

Because for all JD's abandonment, he is a Pop Troll- and that means a potential ally- and so it is with a gentle nuzzle that he sooths Poppy's unvoiced fears and worries, and encourages her to ask JD for help

The introductions come, of course- but Poppy doesnt mention that Branch is a troll-turned-beast, and while JD's expression turns rather strained at hearing Branch's name, there is nothing that would clue him in that Branch is *his* Branch (His precious baby brother, who he thinks is dead for several years, and being an expert at avoidance of painful truths, there is no way he is sharing that with a complete stranger)

So as far he knows, Poppy's "pet" just has a rather unfortunate name, and Branch's colours are again rather washed out.

Branch just doesnt want to deal with the mess that is his familial trauma and is quite relieved JD doesnt have a clue to his original identity

(of course Poppy, desperate to socialize after being locked up with no-one but mute Branch for company, ends up bonding with JD rather quickly- especially after he treats her wounds and offers her a safe shelter- and finding his collection of memorabilia snowballs into discovering his identity as THE John Dory- and Branch's connection to it all, when John Dory, unable to resist the force that is Poppy, eventually talks about all his brothers- including Bitty B)

Also, this isn't connected to that scene, but even then I think you would enjoy this little treat:

----------------------

Branch was injured.

That much Poppy could observe, from the simple way he was carrying himself.

The rush of their escape didn’t seem to want to pass; the pink troll felt like every breath came out with accompanied tremble, and her heart was keen on making itself as loud as possible- it drummed hard in her ears and pulsed in tandem with the ache that throbbed mutely through her sore arm.

The sudden dive and crash into the murky depths of the lake jostled it- but at the time, her mind was hardly crystal clear enough to focus on anything but uncoordinated flailing as she panicked from the shock of the chilling water, trying to instinctively kick herself up to get to the surface. A great deal of her attention had also been overtaken by fear; for her life, yes, but also for Branch, as she had seen him seize up in one blink and then start falling out of the sky in another, his grip on her- previously strong and secure- now limp and weak, a puppet losing all motion as if its strings were suddenly cut.

Yet it was him who dragged her out of the lake in the end, his great head going under her belly and chest and lifting her high above the surface, leaving her clutching onto his mane with painful grip, gasping and sputtering, a sob roughly tearing through her throat before she could stop it. The sudden relief of air filling her lungs once more was not enough to mask the sudden pain that laced through her right arm, and Poppy had sobbed once more, clenching her eyes shut, burying her face into the soggy mess of Branch’s hair.

Low rumbling moan echoed from the beast under her, the strength of it- for all that it was quiet- reaching all the way to her core- but she was unable to do anything but breathe, the action shallow and painful, as her arm throbbed throbbed throbbed.

Vaguely, she felt the chilling water lapping at her legs, and her ears twitched at the sound of soft splashes- the body under her rocking forward, Branch’s breath just as shallow as hers, but clearly now moving, swimming, towards what she hoped was dry land.

The sky crackled, a thunder left in the wake of it, and she shivered when a first drop splashed against her back, bringing a shock of ice to her already drenched body. Another moan and Branch lurched forward, his swimming now gaining urgency- even in this shape, he was well aware of the danger that rain possessed for species as small as theirs, especially when it caught them on a lake. The prickle of unease was what had her force herself to lift her herself up, her good arm gripping Branch’s mane more firmly while held the other more securely to her chest.

Already the drops were breaking the surface apart, the water splashing up and sending waves that clearly impeded her friend’s progress; one that seemed to be made difficult simply for the fact that Branch had extra set of limbs that were hardly made for swimming- with one wing flapping or paddling awkwardly to help propel forward, while her other followed at much slower pace. It was the trembles and shakes that seemed to run through the appendage that caused Poppy’s heart to plummet to the depths of her stomach.

“Branch..?”

He voice was a pathetically weak and wobbly thing- there has been a shock, followed by euphoria, when her companion suddenly ripped through the bars dividing their cells like knife through butter. His cell had been a dark and dreary place, cut away from any natural light- hers had a large barred window that showed nothing but the menacing glow of the volcano, its fiery tones casting orange hues into the grim, cloudy looking sky. She had often caught him watching through the gaps of his cell, great glowing red eyes focused intently on the singular glimpse of freedom, and many times wondered if his sudden critter like instincts urged him to take flight. He did many things in the time they had nothing but each other for company, that could hardly hint that his interest could have other reasons. He prowled around, as much as his chains allowed him, and quite often his wings would flap. His claws would flex and his limbs would stretch- and Poppy had thought it a simple restlessness of a trapped animal, frustrated at the lack of necessary space.

She had thought. She didn’t expect it to be a slow exploration and familiarization of foreign limbs and muscles- not until she had been scooped up like kittenbug, and not until they were hurling face first through the window, Branch simply tucking his head closer to his body and tearing through it like a single-troll battering ram.

“Branch,” she whispered again, the sound trailing into a low moan, not unlike his own- but he didn’t respond, not even with a growl- not until she let go of his mane so she could gingerly touch the trembling wing.

The limb flinched and Branch went stiff under her for a moment, soft warning hiss audible even through the loudness of the storm- and though he didn’t stop his swimming, Poppy withdrew her hand as if burned, realizing that now perhaps wasn’t the best time to find out where his hurts were coming from.

“I’m sorry,” her apology was quick and strained ,“I’m sorry, Branch, I’m sorry-“ and the water was now blurring her vision, and perhaps it was her tears and not the rain, and perhaps her ill timed touch was not what she was apologizing for.

But Branch suddenly made a soft chuff, and his head twisted to peer back at her, the lamp like glow of his red eyes more comforting than one would expect. But Poppy hardly felt unnerved by the sight of them- not when she couldn’t feel any drop of malice, and the pink troll heaved a shuddering breath, bowing forward so she could reach and gently rub one of the Beast’s long ears. The appendage flicked, and his eyes blinked slowly, another chuff falling from his lips, before he turned to face forward again, his swimming seemingly becoming more determined.

Poppy swallowed and closed her eyes, her exhale a tad less shaky than before.

They will be okay. They have to be.

#trolls #dreamworks trolls #trolls branch #trolls poppy #trolls fandom #Rock Beast AU #trolls john dory #troll fic

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seravphs · 10 months

Text

ੈ♡˳·˖✶ — GETOU SUGURU x FEM READER

“Sometimes being offered tenderness feels like the very proof that you’ve been ruined.” - On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous, Ocean Vuong

wc — 5.3k

tags — cult leader Getou, follower/non sorcerer reader, religion, the intimate relationship between a god and a devotee, thus inherent power imbalance, occasional plot relevant use of honorifics, love as worship, don’t question why Getou like that, he just is, he’s so delusional, Getou pierces your ears and it feels like something more

His body is unnaturally cold to an unbearable degree, as it always is. He’s not quite human after all, though you don’t have a name for what he is. He calls himself a sorcerer, but you don’t trust everything that comes out of his mouth.

You shouldn’t. He likes to lie, especially to you.

Geto traces the curve of your ear with his chilly fingers, forcing you to repress your full body shudder. You’d never admit that you like it. You’ve grown used to the frost on your face when he kisses you, the ice seeping all the way down through your bones until you’re wracked with shivers, relishing in the physical reminder of your god.

Do normal worshippers kiss their gods?

Probably not the way you do, but their gods aren’t quite so close. They’re rarely so willing to touch, or so quick to initiate. Like most divine beings, Geto likes to watch over. He likes to hold his fragile little possessions in the palm of his hand. He likes to own.

Your ear is numb. He’s preparing you for what comes next, shockingly gentle. There’s trepidation in you, still, though to be hurt at his hands means something. It’s an offering. You’re willing to accept the cost of that when you have nothing else to give.

“Will it hurt?” Your voice is all but a whisper.

“Come now,” he says, vaguely amused. “I’m pushing a needle through your ear. Of course it’ll hurt, my little lamb, don’t be silly.”

“Don’t say it like that, please,” you whine piteously, curling your fingers into the sleeves of his yukata. He indulges you like a particularly beloved pet who’s done a cute trick for him. There’s adoration in his eyes, though you’re sure he sees you as not a partner but a plaything.

“Be brave,” he says, turning to the table he’s set up to his right. “You asked for this.”

Like with most things, you had just wanted his attention. Even now, your fear is mostly exaggerated. It’s all for the sake of seeing him, letting him fawn over you.

You wish he’d keep speaking. He has a nice voice. It’s probably easier to concentrate when he’s not talking, but you wouldn’t mind if he screwed this up. It would just be another excuse to see him again.

The crunch of your cartilage startles you so badly you almost jump, ruining the entire thing. Getou presses you back into your seat with a hand on your shoulder. The pressure just borders on painful. His hand is heavy.

You love being under your God’s thumb.

“Shh-shh,” he murmurs mindlessly as he works, pushing the needle all the way through. Your ear lobe feels just slightly heavier as the metal locks into place.

“There,” he says, satisfied. He steps back to survey his work. You can’t see it, but he looks pleased with himself, so that’s enough for you. “How pretty.”

He laughs when you turn your head to the side, gracing you with more love, more touches. He could give you his affection until it drained him dry and it wouldn’t be enough. You want all of him.

“So eager,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “Slow it down. I don’t want to hurt you.”

But you’d take anything he gave you.

The second ear is noticeably easier than the first. He’s surer of himself, and you’re less trembly.

When he’s finished, your ears flash two new sparks, piercings to match your beloved divinity. He doesn’t mind if you’re arrogant, so you take your time to preen over yourself in the mirror. He stands behind you, a shadow to your flame.

“We’ll stretch it slowly,” he promises. “I won’t let it hurt.”

“We’ll match,” you say wonderingly, touching your ears even though he told you not to. The image of yourself with earlobes stretched with gauges like his is strangely appealing.

This is love, to be made into the image of your god. To become something worth protecting.

It’s all you’ve ever wanted.

Your mother thinks you’re being possessed by the devil.

It started a year ago. In the beginning, it was a creeping sensation down your back, like fingers walking down your spine. Over time, it grew more malicious. You shook with chills in the stifling heat of summer, teeth chattering with an unseen force. Something else lives within you, sucking on your breath.

Malaise chokes the air around you. It chases you, illness and black smog. Life through a chilly, viscous haze is no life at all. You’re the epicenter of a misery so strong the physical world would bend to it.

In some ways, it felt deserved.

You’d been raised to believe that things happen for a reason. A careful balance had been set on your life at birth that you had unknowingly tipped.

If you suffer, it must be karmic.

It feels right. You’ve always felt a desire to atone for your life, though atone for what you can’t specify. The weight of whatever curse you’re carrying around feels like divine justice.

(Later, you learn that curse is indeed the correct description.)

But if your punishment is divine, so is the source of your redemption.

You meet Getou on an auspicious day.

A total of seven wedding processions are spotted on your way to the temple where the man who will save you resides. Everyone is trying to take advantage of the lucky day, including you.

The brides you pass look so different from you it’s as if they’re in a world entirely apart. You feel no connection between yourself and the beautiful women in their bright white shiromukus, an undefinable distance too wide to explain.

Like the moon, their faces glow with the promise of new happiness. They will enter their new lives with joy and humility, as befitting a married woman. Although you are the same species, when you look in the car’s vanity mirror, the resemblance falls short. Eyes, a nose, lips - you all share these traits of humanity, and yet something about you feels fundamentally different.

Your mother has noticed your gaze. She reaches over the center console to grasp your hand, squeezing it lightly.

“Everything will be alright,” she says reassuringly. “Getou-sama was highly recommended.”

You smile at her but say nothing. A million exorcists have tried and failed to cure you. You no longer have any faith in this industry, if it truly is one and not just a series of one con-artist after another trying to take advantage of vulnerable people like your mother.

If this Getou is a scam artist, he’s a successful one. Even if you try to fight it, a sense of awe overcomes you at the grandness of his temple. A staircase has been carved into the side of a steep cliff. The white stone gleams, polished everyday by the natural elements. Salt spray and wind take precedence here, reminding humans that their reign over Earth is only a blink in the eye of a long history.

Here, the world feels old.

Even from below, the temple is large enough to be seen. The red of its wood burns in the sun, making it appear as if the grand building is ablaze. As you get closer, you can see the hanging shimenawa ropes and the shide. You feel small beneath such grandeur.

Even by the millionth step, when pain overtakes your legs, the awe doesn’t leave you.

Can you call it a trap if you walk into it with your eyes open? Though you know all of this wonderment is intentional, you still feel it tearing at your heart. Your condition makes it hard to leave your home. The bright blue of the sky burns your eyes after days spent trapped within your room, walking only as far as you’re able to pace. Standing on the solid stone, feeling the wind tear at your hair, you feel half wild yourself.

There must be a reason the temples are always located in nature. There’s a howling in your heart.

Witnessing Getou Suguru inspires a feeling in you similar to that of the temple. Wearing his monk robes and a small smile, something about him feels otherworldly. There’s a depth to his eyes, a predator hiding beneath the waves. It’s a curious blend of comfort and fear. Even when the idea of approaching him seems as appealing as placing your hand beneath a knife, you feel a call to him.

Your mother says he’s a saint.

That doesn’t feel right.

His hands are gentle when he guides you to sit before him, but you feel the strength in them. The grip he has on you is intentional, like he’s holding something infinitely precious - or infinitely fragile. You fold your legs underneath you, adopting the traditional position for prayer. When he brings your hands together, you clasp them faithfully, and it feels like worship.

It doesn’t matter what else it could’ve been when it feels right. You don’t need to think of anything else.

He guides your head. With your chin tilted down, you can no longer see his eyes. There’s something unsettling about them, like looking into the cold killer pupils of a shark. Without them, you feel slightly more at ease, and paradoxically, more unsafe.

A hum builds in the room as he works. Your ears pop as he traces a slow circle around you, watching, waiting.

“Eyes closed,” he reminds you as you start to fidget.

Your spine jerks under a sudden pressure. You double forward onto your hands and knees, gasping for breath as it pushes down harder. There’s a growing ache in your straining ribs, but you keep your eyes shut as you were told. Your mother makes a muffled noise of distress.

“Patience,” Getou says. “All will be revealed in time.”

He stops in front of you. You can hear the rustling of his robes as he moves. Desperately, you want to open your eyes. The longer you wait in the darkness, the more terrified you feel. In the absence of sight, you feel the intensity of every other sense that much more, trying to make up for this new vulnerability.

In your hindbrain, you register how submissive your position is. You’re prostrate in front of him, begging to be saved. And as if that was all he needed, an acknowledgement of your own deference to a greater power, his hand slides under your chin. You raise your head with him, tears leaking out of the corner of your eyes as you feel yourself beginning to be crushed under him.

When he kisses your forehead, there’s nothing but relief.

The pressure you’d grown used to lifts off your spine. Your body shudders and throbs with bright flashes of not pain, but something adjacent. Only the wetness on your cheeks reminds you that you’re still crying without noise.

You feel full.

There’s something inside of you, something greater. Proximity to Getou feels like holiness, burning up that dark smog you’ve been carrying around your whole life. It feels like you’ve swallowed a star that’s been searing you the entire way down, but the pain is bright and beautiful.

You’re too sensitive to be touched, but someone’s holding you. Your mother is rocking you like you’re a baby again, whimpering into your hair like she’s a child herself. You weep together, one silent and one deafening. All of your anguish pours its way out through her, like she’s a conduit for the things you cannot open your mouth to say yourself. Her noise is yours.

Getou stands over the two of you, waiting.

Something about the way he’s looking at your mother makes you want to divert his attention from her. He’s a god, but a dark one. Every movement is painful at the moment, but you manage to bring your hand to clutch at his robes.

“Thank you,” you whisper through a cracked throat.

He brings something to his mouth and swallows. Revulsion works its way over his face and disappears instantly. He’s like still water - nothing moves him. It all passes through him, diffused into nothing. He’s simply too great to be colored by things as simple as human feelings.

“It was nothing,” he says, and you get the feeling that for him, it was.

Your mother kisses the hem of his robes, thanking him and Buddha. To her, he’s the miracle worker who saved her child. She didn’t see his expression.

“How?” You ask.

“The details would bore you,” he replies. It’s a non-answer and you know it. “It’s all thanks to the merciful heavens.”

But your mother accepts this without complaint, pushing even more money at Getou than she paid for this initial service. Her hands are shaking as she counts the bills, then gives up entirely, pushing it all at him. You’re just as grateful to Getou as she is, but you’re worried about her. Gently, you take her by the shoulders and try to lead her out of the temple as fast as possible after giving him your own thanks.

“Wait,” Getou says. “Leave your daughter here.”

Your mother freezes. Her mouth forms a thin, wavering line of upset, but you can see it in her eyes. She suspected something like this might happen.

“Please, Getou-sama,” she says. “She’s my only child. If something were to happen to her-”

Getou takes her hands in his. “Rest assured, she will be treated with the same care as if she were myself. Nothing will happen to her while I live, I promise you.”

“I can’t-”

“With the curse that I just exorcized from her, I fear she might be weak and vulnerable to attack from other spirits. She may be repossessed as soon as she leaves this building, but she’ll be safe with me. This is the best course of action.”

“Getou-sama, I understand but-”

“Mama,” you interject. “It’s alright.”

You feel a faint sting of regret at the look of open betrayal on her face. Your mother has done so much for you, putting up with a cursed daughter without complaint. You want to spare her that life.

“I’ll get well soon and return to you.”

“I don’t know…”

You put your arms around her, trying to swallow the lump in your throat. She’s carried the burden of your existence for so many years. You want her to let it go, just this once.

So you stay, and she goes.

Getou gives you a room in the temple and promptly washes his hands of you, as you suspected he might. If he’s keeping you around, it’s for his own purposes, though you may not know them. Instead, his servants remain at your beck and call.

You never want for anything, but your days are lonely. Anything is better than how you were living before, however. After that, you can endure anything.

Despite the wishes of his secretary, who’s the most common face you see these days, you’ve taken to having night walks outside. The temple is still as painfully beautiful to you as it was the first time you saw it.

Sitting outside, with your feet dangling over the ledge and the chilly wind against your face, you feel like you’ve been born again. The air is quiet here. You let your cheek rest against the rough stone of the handrail, your arms pillowing your head. There are a million stars in the sky tonight.

A million stars, and you count each one, placing them on one side of the balance.

A point towards goodness.

One for bad.

Another bad one.

The game gets boring after a while. You have no way of determining where your scale falls. Only someone like Getou could do that. Someone blessed.

Your breath is coming in short puffs again. Even pressing your head to the cool stone doesn’t help you swallow down your nausea. Maybe you aren’t cured, after all.

Maybe whatever’s in you is incurable.

Something brushes over your shoulder and is gone in an instant.

When you turn, Getou is standing behind you. His throat works, in the last actions of swallowing. The breeze ruffles his hair as it did yours. Silhouetted against the darkness, he looks even closer to divinity than he did in the temple. It’s like he was made for this - to stand here in nature and command it.

A god.

“What am I going to do with you, hm?” He says, and his voice is pleasant but the undertones aren’t. “Are you trying to get yourself killed?”

“A little bit of night air isn’t going to kill me, Getou-sama.”

“I told you spirits were going to come for you.”

“Is that what that was?”

He looks at you, amused despite himself. It all seems despite himself, as if whatever Getou presents himself to you as is nothing but a skin the real creature inside wears. It peeks out at you from time to time. You’d like to get to know it. Though scary, it seems more appealing than this facade.

“Suit yourself,” he says. He turns to walk away, but you’ve been lonely. Even a monster is a welcome sight when your only companion is silence.

“Where have you been?”

His back still to you, he pauses. “Is that any business of yours, little lamb?”

“You promised my mother,” you remind him. “You said you’d take care of me.”

When he said it, you knew full well he had every intention of breaking that promise as soon as she left. True to form, he continues walking.

Desperately, you throw out, “I want cake! The next time you’re in town, you better bring me some. All you eat here are fruits and vegetables.”

Getou doesn’t stumble, but his step stutters. There’s a jump to his shoulders like a hiccup - or a stilted laugh.

“What is it?”

“Nothing,” he says.

Then, rare honesty.

“For a second,” he says, his smile bitter, “you just reminded me of someone.”

There’s cake at your next meal, and two children. One you were expecting, and the other two you weren’t. They’re hovering in the doorway, watching you with wide eyes.

Or rather, they’re watching the cake. They’re practically salivating as you lift the fork to your mouth. Feeling a little mean, but not mean enough to stop, you jerk your fork left. Their eyes follow it, entranced. Right. Again, their eyes trace your movement. You wave it in the air. Like bobble heads, their chins bounce with their movements as they watch your fork like a hawk.

When you break out in laughter, they realize they’ve been caught.

“Don’t run,” you cajole as they turn, stumbling over themselves. They’re the only other people you see besides the servants. Getou doesn’t visit, and why would he? The divine have no need for the mortal realm. “Come here. I can share.”

They dart out like little fish in a school, never straying too far from each other. Rather than separate beings, they seem like a two headed creature as they snatch the plate you offer them and scurry back towards the door. It’s alright if they’re shy.

They’re children. You understand, even if you’re lonely. No one will talk to you in this vast, empty cathedral. None of the servants will answer you with more than clipped responses, single words to everything.

You miss Getou, his holiness and inscrutability. Miss the way he felt larger than life.

You ask after him, but you never see him. Instead of Getou, his secretary arrives to ask you to not be a nuisance. She’s polite about it, of course, but the message is clear regardless. Someone like Getou is too important to be bothered by the likes of you.

Sometimes, they let you watch him from a distance. It’s not special to you. He has public exorcisms, shows he puts on for his devoted bass of followers. None of them live in the temple like you. His secretary keeps a careful eye on you, never letting you get too close.

It’s enough just to watch at first, studying him, but soon it falls flat as well. It’s no replacement for the actual man. The distance between you feels like miles.

For the most part, they leave you to wander.

The temple is even larger than you thought it was from the outside. You lose yourself in the winding hallways. Every red paneled door and gold lacquered intersection looks the same.

Inevitably, you get lost. Your feet have carried you far from your room, and now there’s nothing to do but keep moving.

Hall after hall blurs together until you hear the sound of voices. You follow the low timbre of Getou’s voice until you come into a screened room. There’s a hole in the patterned cloth, and when you put your eye to it, you see Getou and a young man.

Dim candles burn in the room. The fire leaps in tune with Getou’s breath. As the boy lies on the floor, Getou murmurs over him. Sweat beads on the boy’s forehead as he lets out little shuddering breaths. His muscles move in violent spasms. Your own joints ache in sympathetic pain.

Finally, Getou holds his hand out, though you can’t see what it contains, and swallows once more. He grimaces, as if the taste is revolting. His lips form around the word ‘weak’, then he’s helping the boy up and escorting him to the door. The air becomes suffocating without a third force to stand between the two of you, as if the boy had been a buffer. Still, you watch him.

“Come out,” Getou calls. “It’s not polite to spy on people. Should I tell your mother?”

“Then you’d also have to tell her you’re neglecting me.”

“I’m not neglecting you,” he says, moving the screen aside.

“You said I’d be treated like your own blood.”

“Haven’t I given you whatever you asked for? Even cake?”

You suppose he has.

He gives you a funny look.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” He says, his voice warm and light.

It feels fake, but it still soothes you. A god is a god even if the altar is plastic. All it takes is one worshiper.

“You saved me.”

“Hmm,” he says in response. “You haven’t attracted any menacing spirits lately, little lamb. I suppose I won’t have much more saving left to do.”

Cold fear strikes you with your epiphany. You pick up the subtext behind what he’s saying, even if he’s not aware of it, ever casual in his delivery. The minute you’re free of your demons, you won’t matter to him anymore. You’ll return home and never see him again.

Somehow the idea breaks your heart, when once all you wanted was to be free.

Devotion makes you do stupid things. Underneath the catacombs of the temple, you sit on the cold stone floor, only a single flickering candle to illuminate your path. You don’t know how this works, or even if it’ll work.

You’ve never tried to be possessed purposefully, after all, but where the idea of demons once scared you, now the idea of leaving Getou’s side is more terrifying. You can’t bear the idea of losing your god, not when you just found him.

The candle jumps.

You try to steady your breathing, reminding yourself that this is what you want. Slow, syrupy, your thoughts begin to tumble towards nothingness. You open yourself up to pollution, purposefully making yourself vulnerable. Whatever was preying on you when Getou first found you that night is invited in.

Your breathing starts to come harder. Stars pulse behind your eyes, and a sickly sensation comes over you. You find you can’t stand, feeling a overwhelming pressure physically holding you in place.

Please, you think through bleary thoughts. This has to work.

The pressure is so great you fear your spine will snap. Your world tilts sideways as you slump down to the ground. All of a sudden, you feel so, so tired. As if you could go to sleep right now.

Right before your eyes close, someone gathers you up into his arms.

“You’ve attracted another strong one,” Getou says. “Do you enjoy getting into trouble?”

It’s unseemly for you to disrespect your god so, yet you’re so delirious from your experience that you can’t seem to remember propriety as you curl closer to him.

“I wanted to see you,” you murmur, your eyes filling with tears unwillingly. You wipe them away, feeling childishly embarrassed. How much less he must think of you, to see you reduced to tears by nothing. “You never come visit.”

“I was busy. Why would you even try something like this?” He’s walking now, the rocking motion of his steps making it hard to stay awake. “How did you even know if I would come?”

“I know you.”

A little, anyway. You’ve been watching him, trying to piece together the little moments he slips.

“What would you understand about me?” Getou says. “You’re so weak. All of you are.”

For a moment, something ugly hangs over the expression of your savior, your god. You only catch it because you’re always watching him. His teeth pull back into a cringing smile, as if he’s repulsed by you. As if there’s some kind of inherent taint to your existence. But all of these things pass over his face and are gone in an instant.

You don’t mind your weakness. Otherwise, you might not have met him.

He stops in front of your room. For a second, you think he’ll let you down, and he seems about to, but instead, he pushes through the door. He carries you right over to your bed and pulls the sheets back to lay you down.

“Thank you for saving me, Getou-sama. Again.” You smile up at him.

He laughs, then looks startled by his own reaction. “That’s all you have to say in response?”

“You’re a god, Getou-sama. Of course you think I’m weak. It’s why I need you.”

“You know,” he says. “I can’t tell if I love you or hate you.”

It’s the most honesty he’s ever showed you. Warmth swells in you. You feel obligated to return the favor.

“But you’re being so kind to me right now, Getou-sama. I couldn’t imagine you hating me.”

“You’re right,” he says, caressing your cheek. “I can’t.”

It’s a lie, but that’s alright. If it’s from him, you’ll take even hard love. It doesn’t have to be good. He doesn’t enjoy it. But he does like you, a little, even against his will. Whatever force pushes him away from you, there’s a force of at least equal strength pulling him in.

Something changes between the two of you that day. Getou’s still cold, still keeps you at a distance, but he lets you hang around him. They way you’re treated makes you feel almost like a pet, but it’s alright.

He tells his secretary off for you. She tries to intervene, to pull you away as she often did in the past, but this time Getou stops her with an easy command on his lips. His arm shoots between the two of you, warning her away.

Ever the consummate professional, the shock melts from her face almost instantly as she respectfully nods and fades into the background. You don’t know what this means for your relationship, but now he lets you tag along with him whenever he’s in the temple.

You try not to read too much into things you can’t be certain of, but sometimes the way he smiles at you makes you think he might find it cute, the way you trot on his heels. If he finds you particularly good that day, he might even reward you with a little spoiling, granting you little touches like tucking your hair behind your air or stroking your cheek.

He takes some meals with you now. If it’s breakfast, he’ll make small talk with you, asking you about your never changing days. Even though nothing ever happens here, he stills shows interest in everything you have to say. You preen under his attention, blossoming like a morning glory.

During dinner, he prefers the quiet. The days exhaust him now. You know he’s preparing for something, though you’re not sure what. He’s a little stranger these days, a little more on edge. Sometimes his eyes dart behind your chair, following things you can’t see, though he never lets them touch you.

If you catch him asleep, it’s never peaceful. He dreams restlessly, calling out in his sleep for a man you don’t know.

All you know is that whatever he’s planning is taking it’s toll on him. It’s hard to guess what he wants when he would never show weakness to you. Gods don’t allow their devotees privileges like that.

But you’re determined.

You know he likes you sweet and warm. He calls you his little lamb, his darling thing. You’re the peace he finds when he comes home from hunting spirits or gathering followers. You like to be that for him.

The next dinner you have with him, you pull your chair closer. Normally, you sit at opposite ends of the table. Today, your chair is right next to his.

“What is it?”

Instead of responding, you gather a little bite of every plate on the table and place it in his mouth. He blinks hard, momentarily surprised, and then his mouth curves into a smile. He swallows willingly.

Spoon by spoon, you pick apart each plate to reveal the best, most tender bite. When you’re done, Getou takes your hands and folds them in his. He dips his head and kisses your palms, then each finger, one by one. Slow heat spreads across them as you feel something like divinity move from him into you.

The next dinner, your chair is next to his already, and he’s waiting.

“Hello, my little lamb,” he says. There’s a spoon of food already in his hand. When you sit, he brings it to your lips instead.

One night, he brings you cake and two little shadows.

“Come here, children,” he calls when they hesitate, staying in the dark corridor instead of the warm candlelight of the dining room.

Turning to you, he says, “I hope you don’t mind. Mimiko and Nanako like sweets.”

The shadow creeps into the light, and reveals the face of the two-headed creature who you had tried to coax with came weeks earlier. You smile at them. Only one smiles back, the other looks away, shyer.

Like Getou, they seem to see something you can’t, only they’re much more obvious about it. When Getou catches you tracking their gaze, his hand falters. He nearly drops the cake before Mimiko catches it.

He seizes your shoulder. “Do you see it?” His voice is a hushed whisper, but intense.

It scares you a little. “See it?”

“I knew you were special,” he breathes. “I knew you were different. You’re not like the rest of those filthy mortals.”

“I don’t understand,” you stammer.

“You must have some cursed energy, maybe just a drop, but it’s better than nothing.“

Mimiko and Nanako are smart children. They’ve already crept out of the room, leaving you just with him.

“I don’t think - Getou-sama,” you say, trying to catch up with his thoughts. “I’m possessed, I’m not like you. It’s the devil in me, not a god.”

“The devil can’t have you,” Getou says. “You’re mine.”

The working title for this in my docs was: Getou not like other girls you except replace girls with humans

#sera writes #getou suguru x reader #geto suguru x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader

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randomshitwhore · 1 year

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Classified Intel {Philip Graves x Reader}

word count: 2.1k

pairing: philip graves x f!reader

summary: You are General Shepard's daughter and work for intelligence at your father's base. You help guide the shadows through a mission over comms. but you and one particular shadow have taken a liking for each other.

warnings: mentions of gunshots, pet names (baby, doll, sweetheart, darling)

AN: This is going to be a hidden romance type of gig in this fanfic; so if you hate stuff like this, sorry babe but this fic ain't for you. Be sure to check out the MASTERLIST!

“This is Mr.Philip Graves. He’s gonna be your main focus in intel, moving him and his team along in missions n such. Now Ima let you two get started on this paperwork, you come and find me when y’all are done, alright?” “Yes sir”

You heard the door click behind you and tried to let yourself relax. This was your first real job and you were honestly nervous you were gonna fuck everything up. “So…General Shepard has a daughter” You heard Graves say. “Yes, it’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr.Graves.” You said, extending your hand. “Please, call me Philip. Mr.Graves makes me sound like the grim reaper or something wacky like that” He laughed taking your hand in his and placing his other on top, capturing your hand in between his own. You laughed softly but cleared your throat, wanting to keep yourself professional. “Then I ask you dont call me Ms. Shepard, makes me sound old,” You said. “Anything you ask sweetheart,” He said, flashing you a smile.

You felt your breath hitch slightly in your throat, but again, quickly and quietly cleared in before fixing the topic back. “Shall we um…proceed Mr.Gra-I mean Philip?”You said, motioning to your father’s desk, two packets with paperwork for Shadow Company’s next mission right in the middle. You reached for the packets and brought them to a small coffee table nearby. You sat down on one of the cushioned seats as Graves followed your every movement; still wanting to stay closer to you, he moved and placed himself right beside you, his leg slightly brushing up against yours. “I never caught your name by the way…Ms?” He said. “Y/N,” You said quickly. “Y/N…very beautiful name for a very beautiful girl,” He said, a smile coming to his face as his eyes moved slowly up and down your frame.

You felt a small smile come onto your own as your cheeks heated up. “Thank you, my father picked it out.” You said, picking at the nail polish on your nails. His hand took yours away from your hand and closed it again in his. “Pretty girls shouldn’t pick at their nail polish,” He said, moving his face slightly closer to yours. “Nervous girls do” You answered sheepishly. You both knew this was becoming unprofessional very quickly, but neither of you could bring yourselves to stop it.

“But not uncomfortable, I hope. I’d hate to make you feel that way” He said, not by much but just slightly backing up. You shook your head no, making him move closer to you again. “Y/N, if this isn’t pushing our relationship over a border, and please tell me if it is,” He said, backing up completely and taking both your hands in his. “It would honor me to ask you out on a date later this evening.” He said, moving his hands slightly up and down with every word. You sucked in your bottom lip and looked down at your lap. You tried to contemplate your options but figured you had already crossed borders that were unprofessional enough, so you agreed.

After that first date, You and Graves kept meeting and going over pamphlets full of information and possible flanking strategies to keep the enemy on their toes, but it was getting increasingly complex with Graves being up on you every time you met privately, physically or even his eyes just wandering. Each meeting became increasingly unprofessional as they went on. From subtle touches of your legs to hands to looks; to just full-on pecks on the cheek every time he saw you, this didn’t exclude your father from being around either. That’s the part that made you start to sweat. He just acted like your father was never there every time his lips met your cheek, and your father usually acted like nothing had happened though the first time, it’d be hard to say he wasn’t surprised. He even started to get bolder by calling you sweetheart and doll during the side missions your father sent him on and even in public around the base; earning some questionable looks and whispers from your co-workers.

Those pecks on the cheek turned into kisses, except your father nor anyone else was not around for those. Those were the private moments you shared when you hadn’t seen each other in a couple of days, or in Graves’s case, sometimes a couple of hours. The first kiss between you two was when he waited in an empty meeting room and grabbed you the moment you passed him, locking the door behind you and tapping the glass to black out anyone wanting to look in.

“Philip are you okay? What’s wro-” You started but were cut off by Graves lips attaching to yours. This kiss wasn’t just any kiss, this kiss was filled with lust, wanting, and need. You gently closed your eyes as one of his arms latched around your waist and pulled you closer to him, wanting you all for himself and the other hand tangling itself in your hair. “What has gotten into you, Commander?”You laugh-mumbled into his lips. You knew he loved you, but you had never envisioned yourself in an empty meeting room with him practically throwing himself onto you like a toddler. His lips separated from yours, both of you sucking into large gasps of air. His forehead rested against yours, his thumb gently rubbing your left temple. “I can’t do this anymore…”He sighed, his eyes locked on the floor.

You felt your breath catch in your lungs. “W-What do..you mean, you can’t do this anymore?” You asked, your eyes attempting to lock onto his. “I can’t…stay away from you anymore doll,” He said, meeting your gaze. Your breath caught again, but out of love. “Every time I see you, this is what I want to do. Let the world know, that I am in love with a drop-dead gorgeous woman! But I can’t, ‘cause your daddy would wring my neck out to dry.”He said, his hand leaving your hair and moving to his. “You deserve better than this Y/N. You dont deserve a man that pulls you into a conference room just to kiss you..” He said, moving away from you, planting his ass on top of the table, and letting his hands fall between his legs.

You bit your lip, thinking about your response carefully not wanting to make him more upset than he already seemed. “What if that IS the man I want?” You pushed, making him look at you again. “What if I want a man that calls me a doll, or darling, or sweetheart, or baby, or any of that other sappy nickname stuff? What if I want a man that stares at me instead of listening to information about his own mission?” You said, making him laugh a little. You took in a deep breath. “What if…I want a man that pulls me into a meeting room and kisses me like I’ve never been kissed in my entire life?” You said, grabbing his face. “My dad doesn’t need to know about this. We both want one another dont we?”

“Yes..” “Then fuck what everyone else thinks”

Soon the day finally came. The day everyone had been waiting for…Operation Dark Water.

“Shadow 0-1 to Silver Eagle, how copy?”You heard Graves’s voice come through your headset. “Loud and Clear Shadow 0-1. You and your squad ready?”You answered back, your leg bouncing underneath your desk. This was the first time Graves was away from you since you had first met. You were worried. You and your father knew how dangerous this mission was, he knew the risks. “Silver Eagle to Brave 0-7, Ghost, and Alejandro also with his squad; how copy?” You asked. You got confirmation from all of them, hearing all their voices one at a time come in. “Shadow 0-1 and Alejandro, you have clearance to engage,” You spoke into your headset. “Please be careful Philip…”You silently prayed, watching his dot on your maps shoot across the ocean.

You kept your eyes trained on the boy’s dots, guiding them to possible rooms around the oil rig; listening to the gunshots ring out, and watching the heart rate monitors on the boys as well. The silence killed you, knowing he was in harm’s way terrified you; but hearing his voice over the radio soothed you, listening to him be the powerful and fearless man you knew him to be. “All shadows, missiles on the helipad!” Graves’s voice cut through the radio silence. You felt your heart rate increase, sliding your body over to a computer to see one of the boy’s camera feeds. You watched Soap’s feed as he and Graves reached the fake shipping container and opened it; only to be meant with disconnected wires. “Where are the controls?”

“On that damn ship…” Graves answered, gritting his teeth in frustration.

You felt your heart skip a beat, how could they not be on the oil rig? You had planned this attack for weeks, how could you have missed this?

“Silver Eagle….Y/N!!” Graves's voice came crashing into your head. “Controls are somewhere on that ship” Graves spoke. You sucked in a deep breath, knowing the words your father would want to hear, but not the ones you wanted to say.

“You have your orders, Commander. Stop that missile from launching…”

You watched as the boat crashed onto the ship, throwing your lover's body quite a distance but not enough to cause any harm. You fiddled with your and Philip's special earpiece, untraceable and on a completely separate channel from the ones you both used. You watched as Soap shot off in a direction with Ghost, you took your chance, walked a short distance away where you could still monitor the other half of the boys but not be heard, and pressed your earpiece.

“Philip?”

“What's up, baby?”

You felt your breath lock in your throat, trying to keep your emotions in check. “Are…Are you okay?”You said, swiping your tongue across your bottom lip. “Sweetheart, I'm fine. You worry about me too much. The question I have for you is, are you okay?” He asked as he fired off a couple gunshot rounds. “Mhm, I'm fine. Why?” You asked, picking at your nail polish. “Funny, ‘cause your daddy’s telling me your pacing back and forth…and now your picking at your nail polish,” He said, instantly making you press your hands behind you. “What did I tell you about you and your nail polish, sweet pea?” He said. “Dont do it..”You mumbled.

“And why dont we pick at our nail polish?” “Because…”

“Because why, Y/N? Come on baby, I need to hear you say it” He cooed. You felt your cheeks heat up. “Because pretty girls dont pick at their nail polish” You sighed with a smile on your face. “Good girl..”He said, gently before walking into the balcony of control and taking down more enemy soldiers. You made your way back to your team, feeling a lot better knowing Graves was safe and breathing. You turned around to see your father in a window gallery, his eyes on you. You mouthed ‘stop’, making your father chuckle slightly.

“Shadow 0-1, Bravo 0-7, and 7-1, what’s your status?” You asked, already knowing the answer. “Just got to the control room, Silver Eagle, preparing to disengage missile,” Graves said into the radio. “Silver Eagle, Missile is in boost phase about to burn, how copy?” Graves asked into the radio. You froze and whipped your head around to your father, not knowing what path to take. He looked you in the eyes and nodded. “Solid, Commander. If we can disengage, we detonate..” You said, the command room going quiet. This move was risky, but it was the only option you had. “Roger, Silver. Stand by.” Graves said, sounding, for the first time in the night, afraid of the outcome of your decision.

You watched from body cams as Soap punched in codes Graves ordered him to and listened to Ghost ordering Alejandro and his men to evacuate the rig before the missile shot back into it. You held your breath as the final code was punched in. “All stations prepare for the boom!”Graves’s voice crackled into the radio. “Missle away” Ghost confirmed as you watched his body cam, watching the missile do a U-turn and shoot straight into the rig. You and your team begin to celebrate, as well as the boys; in their own way. “Shadow-1 to Silver Eagle, Good hit. Good hit. Missile and rig destroyed” Graves said, obviously with a huge smile across his face. “Copy Shadow-1. Hustle up boys and get off the rig, and back home. Good job gentlemen, well done” You said, shutting down your power controls and removing your headset, but not before hearings Graves’s voice one last time through your earpiece:

“Hang tight babygirl. I’m coming your way as fast as I possibly can..”

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crazyforbarbatos · 11 months

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Satan Dating Headcanons

Dating Satan would include:

Treating him like he’s his own person

he appreciates that you don’t compare him to Lucifer

and he’s relieved that the one he loves can truly see him

Having the honor of being his first love

It would be you who taught him how to love

and he's going to love you so deeply

he's read about romance so he's sure that he can treat you pretty good

His love is genuine and true

but it borders on obsessive

he's afraid that he'll lose you

thus sometimes it's hard to be with him with the insecurities that rise to the surface

you'd have to assure him that he won't lose you as long as both of you meet halfway and communicate with each other

dating him also means that you probably need to have a shared liking of cats

it’s his life after all

besides books and knowledge

He calls you : Sweetheart, kitten, my love

unlike many others, he would remember all of your emotional tells

when he sees you upset, he’ll be right by your side

he’d do anything for you to smile for him

even if that means moving mountains

however sometimes he may not know about a certain and would need help with what it means and how to deal with him

he’s eternally grateful when you take the time and patience to teach/show him

he makes sure to tell you that he loves you every morning when you wake up and every night before you go to sleep

like any couple, you'll have your fights

despite him being the avatar of wrath, he does his best to keep his cool

but that doesn't mean that things don't get said

even you would even say things you didn't mean

it's not a one-sided thing

but once both of you cool down, you both apologize and talk it out

dating him means you get to sit in his lap when he's reading

and he won't be bothered by the kisses

he will just simply put his book down and smother you with kisses while making you squeal

dating him also means that you get to see everything that makes him blush

first kisses

first intimate touches

new pet names you have for him

and so on

also please let him hold you in his arms

and let him read to you

he loves to rest his chin on your shoulder and brush his cheek against yours

you'll get to go on many different dates with him as he has so many connections

but your favorite dates with him would be to the cat café or the bookstore or library cause that's where you see him in his element

you'll get to see his eyes light up when he sees all of the cats

or you'll get to admire him as he happily tells you about a new book that he found or a series he'd recently started reading

he's not really handsy but he loves to hold your waist while in public

and if people were starting to piss him off because they were being annoying or they were bothering you, he'd simply pull you close, his lips leaving kisses on your neck and cheek while glaring at them

he would protect you with his life

but if he had to deal with someone, he wouldn't want you to see

he doesn't want you to suddenly think that he is the monster from the story

Satan doesn’t like to lose control of his anger in your presence (because of Lucifer or one of his brothers)

in fact he starts to think negatively

he was a monster

what if someday he hurt you while blinded by rage?

he didn’t want you to leave him

he didn’t want to be alone

and he is so thankful and so taken by you when you crouch down in front of him and hold his face in your hands

“Hey, it’s okay. I’m right here. I’m never going anywhere. And you’re not a monster. You’re the smartest and sweetest man I’ve never met. I trust and love you so much.”

and the kiss on his nose would have calmed him instantly

Satan would hold you close to his heart at night and not let you go until morning

also dating him means you’ll probably be adopting/taking care of lots of cats

#obey me headcanons #obey me x reader #satan x reader

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bell-arina271 · 5 months

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Living Spaces for Artists: Interest Survey

Hello tumblr, my name is Arina, and I have considered for several years now creating a living space in the US for artists and creatives alike just starting out on their respective journeys. My idea was to purchase a large house and rent out rooms for incredibly cheap, so that the struggling artist would have a means to live on their own while they focus on their career. In my search for a starter house for myself, I stumbled across two properties that would help me realize this dream even sooner than I realized. However, as with all things, nothing is perfect, and there are a few caveats. The first is that both properties are in the northern United States, which means hot summers and harsh and cold winters. The second is that one is located far from metropolitan areas, and are mostly surrounded by small towns. It would not be impossible to find a regular job in these areas, but may require a commute.

Both properties are in need of renovations. There are several rooms that are structurally sound, which I would be willing to rent out in the case of emergency, but for the most part the buildings would not be available until at least mid-next year.

For both properties, I would rent the rooms out at $200/month, and yes that would include utilities. You would be allowed up to two people per room, and two pets per room. Property descriptions below the cut.

The first property is located in Wisconsin, near the Great Lakes and the Canadian border. From the looks of it, this was a caretaker home for the elderly, and as such has handicap access and multiple entrances. My idea was to rent out the top floor to residents, and then airbnb the bottom floor rooms. From what I’ve been told this area is high in tourism for outdoor activities and the like, so I may even be able to make an arrangement to have a few people have free room and board in exchange for maintaining the rooms, or cooking or cleaning up after guests. (This is a rough work in progress idea.)

As you can see, most rooms still need renovations, but several rooms can be considered move-in ready.

Has a large functional kitchen, and walk-in cooler, which would allow multiple people to use it at once, or hypothetically, sustain a semi-hotel set up.

Several bathrooms are functional and in working order, but would need to be shared. There is one bathroom for every two rooms, and I would need to decide whether to convert a couple bedrooms into bathrooms to accommodate everyone, but at the moment, consider these like dorms where you have to share bathrooms.

And that’s it for the first property! Onto the next one:

This next property is located in Chariton Iowa, about an hour south of Des Moines. Finding a job here wouldn’t be too difficult, though it would require a bit of a commute.

As far as I can tell the whole building is in need of renovations, so this wouldn’t be move-in ready until next year. I would also need to convert a couple rooms into bathrooms, because having 4 bathrooms between 15 rooms isn’t feasible for many people.

And that just about sums it up! This post is for me to see if anyone else is even interested in my idea, but if no one bites, then I will likely buy these properties to convert them into a bed and breakfast/motel type situation.

Or, if people buy these properties before me, I’ll find a smaller property to start small with my idea.

So, that being said:

If you’d like to be updated on the progress of whichever project/endeavor I end up taking, go ahead and follow this blog.

And if you can, please reblog this, or tell anyone you think might need this, so I can see if there are any interested parties. Thank you <3

#affordable house #artists on tumblr #real estate #artist #art

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alatabouleau · 1 year

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German terms of endearments for your fic

.Now, it's been two years since I've fallen into the X-Men/Cherik-fandom and one thing that I have seen continuously is people trying to find terms of endearment in German for Erik to use for Charles (or his mother for him). (I've lost count of how many times I've seen the word "Liebling" spelled wrong) And honestly, no offense. I know it's hard writing a character who speaks a language you don't. And obviously, you're gonna make mistakes. So I thought I'd share my knowledge as a mother tongue in German and let you know some of the most common ways we described our loved ones. ;) DISCLAIMER: I am but one single person, grown up south-east from Berlin, I DO NOT speak for the whole of Germany, nor do I ever intent to, especially since we are anything but a cultural monolith. Just keep that in mind while reading. ;)

Exclusively romantic terms: - Liebste (fem.)/ Liebster (masc.) : literally means "most loved". Closest English equivalent is probably "love" or "beloved". Bit old-fashioned. Makes you sound like a 20th-century-gentleman. ;) Make sure to write it "I-E" NOT the other way around! It would make the opposite sound. - Geliebte (fem.) / Geliebter (masc.): literally "beloved". Makes you sound even older, like Jane-Eyre-19th-century-old. Again, I before E. - Süße (fem.) / Süßer (masc.): literally "sweetie" (I KNOW this is probably now confusing, but trust me.) This is where we get into the... sappy side of German. Like, there are some mid-forty/fifty-couples who use that, but the rest makes it probably just cringe. (I know I am right now really helpful by starting with those that are not really modern, but I've seen this used because people translating English terms so I just wanted to say it here.)

Terms for both romantic and parental love: - Liebling: literally "darling". Classic, neutral, always the safe option for every situation. (I before E ;) ) - Schatz: literally "treasure". Again, safe option, though this leans rather to the romantic side, but can be used for children either way. And then of course, some animal pet names may be used for either children or romantic partners, but honestly, I don't know any couples who do that. So, those will go into the parental category, I'm afraid.

Terms for children: -Spatz: "sparrow". That's what we basically use as "sweetie". You can also use the diminutive "Spätzchen" for either toddlers or said by grandmothers. -Maus: "mouse". same thing. Diminutive is "Mäuschen". Tendency in usage for girls, but can work for either gender. (This is what my Mom still calls me sometimes even though I'm already 22! XD) -Motte: "moth". This is now really rather for girls, and rather those whose names start with M. -Krümel: "crumb". Not used by many, rather comes from the North, also rather used for unborn children in the womb. -Fussel: "fluff". Also not that common but can be cute in my PoV. :) -Hase: "rabbit". Diminutive is "Häschen". This one's rather for boys in my experience.

And then again, at the end of the day, expressions of affection are personal and as we get more personal in German, we tend to use our respective dialects. Yes, there are actually quite a many dialects for our relative "small" country. Around 30, to be concrete. Though they are all decreasing in being used, sadly, as we get more and more globalized and mobilized. However, here are some examples that I know, my knowledge being utterly limited as I am only one single person from the region south of Berlin:

-Kleene (fem.) / Kleener (masc.): "little one". If you ever have a character originating from Berlin or south of Berlin, this can be used for children. -Meechen: "girl" in the dialect of the region called "Lausitz" around the border of Brandenburg and Saxonia. Also for kids. -Schätzelein: diminutive of "treasure" in Colognian dialect. Romantic in nature, though it can also be used in a way like hairdressers in American movies sometimes call their customers "sweetie". (please, if there's a person from Cologne here, correct me on that!) -Liebchen: "darling" or "beloved" in Saxonian dialect, I believe. Rather used by old couples. -Min Dern (fem.)/ Min Jung (masc): "my girl/boy". Northern dialect. In the region around Hamburg, if I remember correctly. Used for kids.

That's it for the moment. I will probably add to this list whenever I learn some new, but I hope this is already helpful for some people. Have a great day! :) Also, if to other German mother-speakers, feel free to share your perspective, correct me if I did put something in the wrong region or enlighten me with other words.

#fandom things #fanfiction writing #german things #germany #cherik #kurt wagner #erik lehnsherr #ao3 stuff #translation

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bleachbyatch-blog · 1 month

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A royal pain

Romantasy AU. PWP sorta. F!reader (Y/n) in an arranged engagement with Prince!Geto. Noble!Gojo screws everything up, in a good way. (Y/n) is slightly bratty.

word count: 3.6k

CW: dubcon bordering on noncon (Geto is entitled and mean), virginity taking, unprotected p in v, creampie, oral (f and m receiving), squirting, technical cheating, dirty-ish talk (Gojo is obnoxious), pet names (good girl, pretty girl), brief geto x gojo, exhibitionism

NSFW. MDNI. 18+

Your betrothed had never really warmed up to you. No matter how many times over the years you were forced to meet Geto Suguru, the first prince of the kingdom, he remained distant. Despite his chilly attitude and calculating eyes, you held on to the prospect of being happy as his wife someday.

But it seemed like every time you started to make some progress with Geto, somebody interfered and that somebody was almost always Gojo Satoru. He was the Archduke’s son and Geto’s best friend. He had a habit of teasing you, mercilessly undermining your relationship with Geto. You were not looking forward to the social season, especially when you realized Gojo would be staying in the capital to attend all the balls and no doubt hoard Geto away all to himself. You just hoped that he would finally stop picking on you so relentlessly now that you were all grown up.

“No one asks me to dance anymore.” You whined watching fashionable women swirl their skirts around the dance floor while their dance partners took them in with appreciative eyes.

“I’m sure it’s because they don’t want to catch the wrath of the crown prince.” Your lady in waiting did her best to console you.

“As if Prince Geto would even notice. He hasn’t looked my way once tonight. He’s too busy trying to outdrink the idiot.” You looked over at the pair laughing congenially over their shared flask. Their cheeks were rosy and they swayed on their feet, just an hour in and they were already tipsy. Gojo caught your heated gaze and sent back an impish wink. Clearly he hadn’t grown out of mocking you.

“My lady, you shouldn’t say such things in public. What if somebody were to overhear you?”

“I don’t care.” You pouted before leaving the ballroom and the boys behind.

You found yourself sitting all alone in the cool darkness of one of the parlors. You just couldn’t watch those two have any more fun without you. You were used to being left out, but that didn’t mean you had to like it. So you decided to spend the rest of your night sulking in the darkness. This is probably why Geto doesn’t like me. Because I’m a brat. But then again, so was Gojo and he got along with him just fine.

The double doors thumped open behind you, sending your heart leaping up into your throat and your pouty thoughts scattering. A broad form appeared in the doorway, long silken hair shining in the moonlight let in by the gauzy curtains.

“Prince Geto.” You blinked at him in surprise before remembering to rise and curtsy to his highness. “A-are you enjoying the ball?”

He huffed out a non-committal response that you were used to hearing as he approached you slowly.

You realized his face was flushed, eyes were too bright. That damned Gojo had gotten your fiance drunk. Geto loomed over you, closing you in between the arm of the couch and his body. He had never stood so close to you and his breath, fanning your hot face, was boozy enough to make you feel drunk too.

“(Y/N).” He addressed you almost affectionately. Your name was so alien on his lips that you couldn’t help but shiver at the sound.

His fingers danced around the delicate pleats in your dress before yanking them up in big fistfuls around your waist. Your dainty undergarments were lined with bows and lace and they did little to keep your modesty intact.

“Prince Geto, what are you doing?”we can’t! Not until we’re married.” You panicked and tried to wrench your skirts out of his hands to cover yourself.

“Last time I checked, you were mine. I’ll do as I please with you.” Before you could continue your protests, Geto had pushed you down so you were sprawling on your back and shoulders, your hips propped up by the cushions of the sofa. Your barely clothed pussy on full display as he spread your thighs painfully wide. “Cute.” He chuckled down at your panties, skimming the laciest bits with the pads of his fingertips, before tearing them clean off with two hooked fingers.

“Suguru!” You gasped, shame heating your body, starting at your exposed, molten core.

He undid his silk pants and took out his rock hard sex before running the bulbous tip over your most intimate parts. Schlick. Schlick. Schlick. You were mortified at the runny mess between your legs, now coating Geto’s pulsating tip. He groaned drunkenly, “Look at you, already making a mess on me.” You buried your face in your hands, trying to hide your reaction to his words. A strange mixture of embarrassment and desire brought tears to your eyes.

His fat cockhead split you open, the tight ring of muscles giving way to him like they were little more than softened butter. He thrust deep inside until his pelvis was flush with yours before he began a staccato rhythm inside you, breaking you in. His body was heavy and unyielding above you as you reached up to his chest just hoping to find some purchase to ground you.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to destroy this tiny virgin cunt.” He growled, his teeth finding the fleshy part of your shoulder. You cried out in pain as his canines tore through the softness of your skin and tears redoubled in your eyes. The weight of his cock inside you was breathtaking.

He straightened up, never faltering from his punishing pace, and placed a large hand down hard on your stomach like he meant to flatten you. It added a new sensation into the mix. A fullness filled your abdomen as he pummeled his way deeper into you. Every thrust had you convinced that you were going to burst.

“Su-u-gu.” You let his nickname slip, one that only Gojo was allowed to call him. “Stop! I-I’m going to-” Your heart stuttered in your chest, thumping its painful rhythm down to where the two of you were connected. Your world grew hazy as you started to spasm around his thick cock. You erupted in a fountain of juices, soaking your petticoat as well as Geto’s lean legs and torso. Sloppy sounds filled the space as Geto used your slickness to propel himself faster, harder. His hips stuttered before he released white hot spurts deep inside you until you were so full you swore you could feel his seed in your belly.

Your insides felt bruised when he finally slid out of you, his cum leaking out to mix with your own. He used the softest layer of your dress to wipe himself clean, but you were too far gone to protest. Your hair had slipped out of its pins and stuck to your damp forehead in places. Your heavy skirts were stained and rumpled and your panties were an unsalvageable little scrap at your feet.

“You’re an absolute mess.” Geto chuckled without sympathy. He still looked immaculate, not a hair out of place. His clothes had survived the worst of it, the only evidence was a small patch of wetness on his pants as he buttoned them back up. “You should probably do something about that before you head back to the party.” Your thoughts were still so disordered that all you could do was glare at him as he retreated from the room, not bothering to shut the doors behind him.

Geto had finally given you an indication of how he felt about you. You had always known him to be cold, but you never would have guessed how cruel and bestial he would be when he took you for the first time. You couldn’t believe the nerve of that man, prince or not, you would not be treated that way again. It was time for you to give him a piece of your mind. You collected yourself enough to follow him out into the winding hallways of the palace. He’d had quite the head-start and you weren’t sure you’d be able to find him. After a few minutes of what felt like a wild goose chase, your anger started to wane and your embarrassment returned. What on earth would you even say to him if you caught up? With a defeated sigh, you slumped against the wall.

A soft sound floated to you from deeper down the corridor. You perked up your ears, eager to hear more. You followed the noises, they were coming from a shaft of moonlight; You stopped dead in your tracks before it could illuminate you too. Pushed up against the wall, head thrown back against the tapestries, was Geto. And down on his knees in front of him was Gojo. That good for nothing mouth of his working over your fiance’s cock, but it was clear to you from the way Geto’s cock hardened, Gojo’s mouth wasn’t good for nothing after all. He bobbed his head and gulped at the shaft greedily, eliciting moans from Geto that were totally different from the ones he’d shared with you. They were soft, whiney even.

You stood there, concealed in the dark, Geto’s cum still running down your legs and forming a pool on the stone floor.

What the hell was happening? You couldn’t bring yourself to look away from the pair of men, your fiance and your tormenter. Geto’s hands came to rest on either side of Gojo’s face so he could rut up into it at a more desperate angle. He was absolutely feral, clearly not satisfied by your own warm hole, he was using Gojo’s mouth as a fucktoy. Clearly he’d never heard of a refractory period.

Gojo braced his hands against the prince’s thighs, taking him even deeper down his throat, his teeth brushing the shaft lightly until Geto was crying out loudly, the party-goers be damned. Hot white seed shot out to fill Gojo’s mouth to the brim until it was leaking out, down his chin and onto his clothed chest. You couldn’t believe that Geto had anymore cum to give after breeding so much into you, But he pumped more and more into his best friend and Gojo struggled to swallow it all down, gurgling with each ruthless thrust into his throat.

Once Geto had returned down to earth, he slid himself out of Gojo’s panting mouth and patted his cum soaked face patronizingly. He left the disheveled man kneeling on the floor alone in the hallway. You watched his profile as he caught his breath and wiped the stickiness off his face as best he could with his sleeve. He rose after a few moments, and turned in your direction. Your heart hammered in your chest. The last thing you wanted was to be caught by Gojo, especially after what you just witnessed him do with his mouth. You rushed back the way you came as silently and swiftly as your wobbly legs would allow and didn’t look back.

***

The next morning, you did your best to avoid both Geto and Gojo. You didn’t trust yourself to act normally after everything that happened the night before.

You wandered down the less trafficked halls and hid out in places they would never be. The greenhouse, the women’s room, the library. You found a lazy patch of sunshine filtering in through a great stained glass window between the rows of shelves deep in the library. It was the perfect place to spend the day without fear of interruption. You tucked yourself into the reading nook with a stack of books and tried not to let your mind wander to the two men.

“Have you seen a copy of The History of the Empire?” A voice broke your intense concentration and you snapped your head up to see Gojo, ringed by the golden light from the window, gazing up and down the length of shelves. “I’ve been looking for it everywhere.” Damn his hide. You should have known there would be no place in the palace where he wouldn’t be able to track you down.

“You’re in the poetry section.” You narrowed your eyes at him, not buying into his bullshit one bit.

“Ahhh. Explains why I can’t find it.” He smiled brightly, eating up your suspicion like it was his favorite pastime.

“I wasn’t aware you could read.” Your sour mood only fueled his playful one more.

“Oh, it’s not for me. It’s for Sugu.” Sugu. There he went with that affectionate nickname again. You couldn’t help but think about their lewd rendezvous in the hallway, out in the open for anyone to stumble upon.

“Have you been seducing the prince this whole time?” You blurted out rashly before you could think better of it.

“What do you mean?”

“Don’t play dumb with me Gojo. I saw the two of you last night…in the hall.” His eyes widened in shock.

“You were spying on us? What a naughty girl. What exactly did you see?”

“I-I…I guess I’m not sure.” Noble ladies were often sheltered and you were no different. You had no words for what you saw.

“Describe it to me.” His voice was husky as he drew uncomfortably near you.

“Stop teasing me.” You pushed him away angrily.

“I’m not teasing. Describe it to me.” He insisted, fingers bruising into the boning of your corset, tongue lashing out to lick at his lips hungrily.

“You w-were down on your knees. And Geto was…exposed.” Your body was alight with embarrassment, having to talk about such dirty deeds while in such close proximity to the mouth that performed them.

“What was exposed?”

“His manhood.” You squeaked out.

“You mean his cock. Then what?” He urged you to continue while his hands roamed up the lacing of your corset.

“You-you put your mouth on him.” You tried to make it sound like an accusation, but your words came out too whiny. You were trapped on all sides, between the bookshelves, the window, and now Gojo’s looming body. You were letting him tease you again. You’d almost made it too easy for him. “You seduced him.” Was all you could say, again, your lip trembling in frustration. He chuckled at you, but it wasn’t the obnoxious sound you were used to. It was almost giddy sounding, like he was glad he’d been caught by you.

“To be perfectly honest, I don’t have any real interest in Suguru. The only reason I sucked him off was because I knew he’d just been buried in you.”

“Excuse me?” You blinked at him dumbfoundedly.

“You heard me. I wanted to taste you, and I figured that might be my only chance.” There wasn’t an ounce of shame in him.

“Me? Why?”

“You really are dense.” He shook his head. “Didn’t you ever wonder why I always did my damndest to keep you away from Suguru, to mock you in front of him?”

“Of course I did. I figured you wanted to keep him all to yourself.”

“No, you little dummy.” He flicked your forehead. “I thought that he would eventually drop you if I could convince him you were nothing but a silly brat.”

“You’ve always been mean, but I didn’t realize that you were so cruel.” Tears pricked at your eyes and your throat tightened sorely.

“Oh, pretty girl, I didn’t do it to be cruel.” He cooed down at you, though he never abandoned his teasing tone. “I did it because I wanted you for myself.”

“What?”

“Before your engagement to Sugu was decided, your best marriage prospect was me. Our fathers had an agreement that promised you to me before you were even born. But the first time Suguru saw you, he wanted you. And the prince gets what he wants.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Then I guess I’ll have to do my best to convince you some other way.” He said before he pressed his lips to yours. It was a heated kiss, and your first. Suguru hadn’t bothered. You grew dizzy, not trusting yourself to breathe for fear of shattering the moment. You never could have imagined enjoying a kiss from Gojo, but he was delicious. His lips were soft but purposeful, as they parted yours, his tongue turning you into something delirious that wanted more. So much more. Without telling them to, your fingers threaded through his hair, pulling him down on top of you as you fell back onto the cushioned bench.

“I wasn’t expecting you to cave so willingly.”

“Shut up.” You said harshly before bringing his face back down to yours. You kissed him until your mind was fuzzy around the edges and your lips were chapped. He straddled you, your skirts riding up as your bodies writhed together. He took advantage, pawing them up and out of his way.

There you were, spread out for the second time in less than 24 hours, under a different man. The man you’d loathed for over a decade. The one who you were so sure would ruin your engagement. And he probably still would, but this time you didn’t care.

He pecked your lips once more before lowering himself down past your hips, his breath hot over the silkiness of your underthings. He pushed your panties to the side, revealing your feverishly throbbing cunt dripping in anticipation.

“What are you doing?!” You panicked as he descended on you with his mouth.

“I’m going to make you feel good.” He said confused. “Wait a second…Suguru didn’t do this with you?” You shook your head frantically. “Selfish prick.” He muttered under his breath before diving back between your legs. Your whole body jolted as his tongue traveled up your slit to find a sensitive patch near the apex.

“Oh!” You cried out into the hushed library as Gojo put his mouth to work, the golden light from the window limning his delicate lashes as they fluttered in satisfaction.

“As much as I enjoyed tasting you on Sugu’s cock, doesn’t compare to the real thing.” He groaned, tongue slippery on your folds as he coaxed you toward your pleasure. He lapped at you with enthusiasm, his eyes bright as he watched you squirm, not away, but toward his face. “There’s a good girl. Just let me love you.” And it was like all the feelings he’d been holding back for years came flooding out as he worshiped you, lavished your sensitive spot until your legs were shaking around his head. You announced your orgasm with a series of loud choking gasps, the quiet around you swallowed them. You hoped to god that the two of you were alone, but not enough to stop him from sucking you to your peak of ecstasy where stars bloomed across your vision and tremors wracked your entire body. A glossy stream of your release bathed Gojo’s face in a sticky mess, and he moaned out his appreciation, drinking you in like you were honey.

“Damn, I’m good.” He grinned, beyond proud of himself as he propped himself up on his elbows.

“Stop talking and take off your pants.” You demanded, not certain where you found your confidence. You rose to your knees and shucked off your panties while Gojo obediently removed all of his clothing.

Gojo unveiled his massive length to you. The head pulsed rhythmically in time with his racing heartbeat.

“Like what you see?” He smirked lazily. “I am a little bit bigger than Suguru, you know.” You didn’t want to feed his ego, but you couldn’t help but marvel at the naked sight of him- All toned muscle and long limbs under perfect unblemished skin.

He spit a long stream down onto his member, and pumped it over himself filthily. Not that he would need the extra wetness, your gushing pussy had that covered.

He lined up his aching cock at your plushness and groaned as your warmth enveloped him welcomely. He pushed in all the way until he was out of room, bumping your cervix. You cried out in surprise and he shushed you softly. “Sorry, pretty girl. Told you I was big.”

“Keep going.” You ignored the pain, waiting for the pleasure you knew would soon follow. He rolled his hips into you, slowly at first, experimentally feeling you clench around him before he found a tempo that had you arching up into him. The veins of his shaft skimmed your insides, making them ripple with a delectable sensation.

“Feels good?” He huffed.

“Y-yes…yes!” That was all the encouragement he needed to lose himself in the feeling of you. He rutted up into you like an animal, the friction of his dick on your messy walls was more than either of you could bear for long without shattering or exploding or simply winking out of existence. All you could do was chase down your high and hope that it wasn’t the last time the two of you would feel that way together.

Before long, he pumped his creamy cum deep into your womb, so pussy-drunk that he couldn’t be bothered by the consequences. You shuddered around him, your ruined hole milking him gratefully as you came a second time. Your breaths mingled as the two of your rode out your pleasure together during the last fucked-out tender thrusts.

You were boneless and heavy, more so with Gojo’s body pressed on top of yours. Sleep threatened to take you after being so thoroughly built up and destroyed by Gojo’s revelations, emotional and physical. But before you could drift off, Gojo’s voice brought you back down to reality.

“So, (Y/N).” He said in his most mischievous voice, lifting his forehead from yours. “Care to tell his highness which one of us is better at fucking you?” He shifted from his position on top of you, revealing your unhappy looking fiance leaning against the bookshelves nearest you with his arms crossed over his chest.

“Well, let’s hear it.” Geto agreed dangerously. You gulped audibly, fumbling for any answer that could save you from the prince’s wrath.

#geto suguru x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk smut #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #geto x gojo #jjk #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen

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zileans-big-cl0ck · 7 months

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hello ive never sent a request b4 not sure how this works pls bare with me too 😿😿 ive seen that u write for pyke and camille (my two fav characters) and i was wondering if u could write anything sfw/nsfw for one of them because theres barely any content for them, ty in advance 😸

✦–Pyke & Camille General Headcanons.✦ (SFW & NSFW)

✦I see someone’s taste never misses, Camille and Pyke as favourite characters!

✧ prompt: ✧ just feeling inspired today to actually write.

✧ champions: ✧ Camille, the Steel Shadow; Pyke, the Bloodharbor Ripper.

✧ reader: ✧ gender neutral.

✧ author’s note: ✧ I feel like Camille isn’t my champion to write tbh, I absolutely cannot caught her character; please pardon me. PYKE ON THE OTHER HAND- But, really, you don’t even know how I’ve been DYING to write something for my favourite boy Pyke. Ignore any mistakes; as much as I enjoyed writing this, I’m really tired :sob:.

masterlist

✦Camille, SFW:

Maybe she is a dominant, noble woman, but you still should valet her, treat he with the greatest respect. That amuses her.

Taking care of her well-being is your sacred order. The lady must be always pleased, cherished.

Of course she can treat herself right. She is a proud, self-respecting woman. But that doesn’t mean she does not enjoy making you submit, serve and obey.

Camille treats you, like you deseve to be treated - like an adorable pet that belongs to her.

And she rewards you generously, always making you accompany her, even if it means sharing with you and her wealthy co-workers the same secret informations of her important work. That is Camille’s way to bestow you with her trust, which is shared like a true gift, making you her little secretary and confidant.

She always keeps you near herself in case anything worrisome happened - or in case someone decided to profane her delicate belonging. Camille is a jealous and controlling woman who holds a firm border between her partner and anyone who may cross their path; she openly fears that the others, the vociferous people, may have bad influence on you. And you must stay as her property, and only hers.

Unfortunately, this entails with her sometimes treating you infantile, like you are not fully responsible. But don’t worry, it also means that she is always ready to do something for you, even if it is the hardest, most cumbersome work that requiers a professional. Because that’s who she is - a capable, deadly woman.

✦Pyke, SFW:

He always watches you from a distance. Pyke is a protective lover, but he desires to stay unseen by the others, all because of his well-known esteem as the Bloodharbor Ripper, the doom of captains. Even if you are not aware of his presence, he is alwats with you, stalking from the shadows, creeping around somewhere between the realms of the dead and mortals like a ghost, keeping an eye on you in case anything disturbed your peace. He would never stand anyone troubling you, which unfortunately can happen anytime in this perilous land. He is almost like a guardian angel, scared for your life and positive to take care of it, but cursed himself.

When he isn’t working, he likes reading. And I will not elaborate on that; Pyke has literally a Shakespeare quote in his own voicelines. He loves reading and you comming up with new book titles and recommendations for him, since he doesn’t have much time exploring this topic himself - his work consumes most of his sacred time, which he divides only between the ardous hunt for his victims and - you.

Though he appreciates your interest in his work, your questions about his day, even if their seem to serve no higher purpose than to start a conversation, he doesn’t want you to know all about his job. Not the things he has done to fulfill the meaning of his afterlife and cross all the names from the manifest. As Pyke came to conclusion, he might be unsure of your possible reaction to him being a killer, which you probably know either way, just never saw it on your eyes. At least he took care of it, to never commit such a dirty work before you. It’s not like he didn’t give you his whole trust, but you seeing his murderous persona might change your feelings towards him- that’s what he believes. And moreover, you might not want to see him how much pleasure he takes from killing.

He would never want you to risk your safety in order to try and get any information about his past, if you ever came up with idea so preposterous. Even if you were convinced that you might get into your hands a piece of knowledge that was out of reach for Pyke for years, maybe even decades. Of course he had shared with you the scraps of memories he still remembered, but there was never nothing solid, declaiming a consistent story. And he stopped caring about it long ago, entombing all the lost feelings in exchange for a new life (well, afterlife), new purpose, new emotions, even if they were ment to be irrelevant forever. Pyke befriended the truth - he, his new self, was never ment to meet with the man he was once before. Even if you were sweet enough, determined, to try and fight, he would turn you off - it didn’t matter if he couldn’t even remember it.

But he hoped it didn’t make you think that he didn’t trust you. He always answers your questions without keeping any bloody details to himself, just doesn’t tend to cover the subject by himself.

✦Camille, NSFW:

The first rule to obey: refer to Camille only as ”Ma’am”, ”My Lady” or, eventually, if she lets you, ”mommy”, so she could jovially call you her pet. A good, obedient little one, who can follow her around.

She would show you to her family, acquaintances, or co-workers with a proud, lustful look. She owns you not only so she could command you, but also to show a little off, to parade with her affable pet.

But you will always remain as her little one, the one under, the once she could crush, quite literally.

She loves the control she wields. Camille is a competent person who clearly deserves her position in the social hierarchy, same as under the cover of blankets. Or just thin walls of her office, where she also adores having you weak before herself.

She often wants you to wear revealing clothes, so the others could trace their lustful gazes, unnoticed as first, but over you. It is a perilous game - she always takes whatever she wants and her feelings are deep, sharp and adamant like blades, incandescent like fire. But you are tantalizing for her, especially when trying to get rid of woeful surrounding.

Camille would never let anyone else touch you, not even get close to you, but how she enjoys watching other people desiring you, yet not being able to ever caught your attention, as your heart belongs to Camille and only her.

Walking around her apartmnet nude, pitiful, with remorse in your eyes, is a sudden turn on for her. She knows you taunt her, tantalizing by the move of your hips, the place where she wants to dig her nails in while putting you in your place, right under her.

Her legs are obviously her deadliest weapon, but also the sweetest gift she can offer. She wants your head between them, squized and trapped in something between a full of pleasure, hot moment and a bewildering threat of her scissors-like blades.

Oh, how she enjoys crushing you under herself, sitting, rolling her hips just to make you squeak, beg and cry for more. And for a opportunity to breathe, as she toys with your fear.

Camille uses her voice to order you around, as she expects unquestionable obedience. The cybernetic, blue lights of her eyes never leave you, always scanning, petrifying, searching.

She never reaches her climax first. She can hold her pleasure back, just until your own release, just to see you succumb to her will and her orders. Only then Camille lets herself cum too, her moans being the sweetest reward you could get.

✦Pyke, NSFW:

What comes first, is that he is not needy at all. Even if Pyke desires touch, he would never willingly admit it, claiming that he is a ruthless murderer. He doesn’t need anything so prosaic.

So you are the one bestowed with the great honor to initiate sex.

And when it actually comes to it? He is absolutely melting, so quickly turned on. Though he wouldn’t admit that, again.

And what turns him on the quickest is probably you admiring him, tracing your fingers over his tattooed arms, your body near his chest, pulsing with pure life, so innocent in its vitality. Because it is something he lacks and therefore - desires with curiosity.

And though it might seem unusual for someone like him - bodyworshipping. An absolute lover for this one, especially when you praise or compliment.

He gets hot very quickly, which always makes him curse under his breath; especially whenever you test his patience. Because of his protectivness, it isn’t unusual of him to grab you with one of his hands onto his lap, always looking for an opportunity to touch you and to be touched, to have you really close. Just to have your beating heart near his quiet presence. Oh, and he is never immune to your teasing, even the slighest move of your hips, even your fingertips brushing his bare chest, is everything to make him grunt with approval.

The sensation of your soft skin, so different from the harsh world around, the fearsome depths, his disgusting prey made from men, intrigues him, alongside with the sick fascination with the contrast between you - a mortal that if he hurts, will surely suffer, and him - a shadow of the past, a revenant, whose heart doesn’t beat anymore.

But he fears you escaping him, like his victims always try. So he pins you, either to the bed below you or any other surface, making sure that you can not hide or run away. Maybe even ties you, but holding you by your wrists with his firm grip until you fully comprehends that you are trapped, usually works.

Despite Pyke’s protectivness, he is nothing close to being gentle in bed. He doesn’t even remember the word gentle anymore, therefore it is natural to treat you they way he thinks is satisfying. It's not like he is brutal, but he takes unimaginable pleasure from pinning your body, much smaller in comparison to his own, by his bare hands sculped with tattoos with force, to pull you hair and to have you whimpering into pillows.

Let him choke you. He is fascinated by the thrill of holding your life in his hands, the same hands that killed countless of men, now showing mercy to someone so dear to him, fragile and mellow. A person he could never harvest the life from, but still takes a sadistic kind of pleasure from playing with this idea. He could do anything to you, because you trusted him, but he won’t cross your boundaries - and he would never let anyone else do that.

Whenever you turn pale under him, white from fear, his gaze stalks covetously, devouring and claiming. But you can read nothing from his face, even if he takes his mask off, as he stays unmoved - but not stoic, he was never a philosopher. Rather in awe, like a conqueror having the key to his soul beneath him.

Your shaky breathing is tantalizing, when you struggle to inale, seeking mercy with your pitful eyes. Because he prefers them on himself, when gorgeous pupils trace his moves, fixed on his body, proudly towering over you.

Pyke is also well aware of the impact that his voice has on you. He is a wraith of his past self, yet he kept his deep, throaty voice that makes you shiver and obey.

Therefore he is suprisingly good at dirty talking, making the voice a great advantage.

Pyke can’t help himself and when with you - doesn’t hold back. Your presence, you squeezing around him, moaning, letting him do these things to you, doesn’t let him last for too long. Even with being the bloody killer, you are his only weakness and therefore - the ultimate form of pleasure, when he can do nothing against your charm, the muffled sounds you let out and the hot atmosphere. Often cums before you, which doesn’t mean he is done.

May be also a little egoistic becausae of the ignorance of your pleas to be more gentle. Just a little.

Also a fan of drunk sex, Pyke is a pirate after all. It’s probably in his blood.

#✦demosthenes writes #league of legends #league of legends x reader #lol #lol x reader #pyke #camille #league of legends camille #league of legends pyke #pyke x reader #camille x reader

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