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vilsoo · 9 months

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୨⎯ CHAPTER ONE ⎯୧

incubus!fushiguro toji x fem!reader

꒰ ✟ ꒱ GENRE: horror, demon au, nsfw 18+, porn with plot.

꒰ ✟ ꒱ SUMMARY: Sex demons are not as provocative as you think they are. Not only do they engage in sexual acts with humans, they thrive off their flesh and haunt them in their nightmares. When an incubus disguised as a Reverend turns a hungry eye on one of the parishioners, gruesome events at the cathedral slowly unfold; blasphemy, gore, and terror…

꒰ ✟ ꒱ CHAPTER WARNINGS: sacrilege, religious slander, blasphemy, WC: 2,391

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written in toji's pov, narration style similar to the Netflix show, "You." this takes place in a fictional setting; St. Reze University & Cathedral. banner art made in 2021 by chosofty!

‎ ST. REZE CATHEDRAL ‎ ֺ PRESENT TIME

‎ TOJI

I was born to be an affront to God.

A cruel infernal creature like me, born and raised in Hell, until, I made the decision to leave and never return. The regrets of leaving my past life in Hell started crawling down my spine these past few weeks. I knew I wasn't going to love my new life in the human realm either, but I had no choice. I had to be ordained as a Reverend for a Catholic University, where I sustain through dreadful church hours and its absurd practices.

From what I've witnessed in the course of religious history, the people of this church have less ethics than most witchcraft practitioners I've fucked in the past.

It was a shame for a man like me indeed. Accommodating these sheepish Catholics that devote to a religion I couldn't care less about— yet here I am personified as a Reverend fool. If my demon counterparts from Hell saw me like this months ago, the humiliation would infuriate me greatly. But now that I'm "reborn," I finally stopped giving a fuck of what humans and demons think of me.

Dark grey clouds shrouded over the cathedral as I saunter down the alleyway, stopping under an arch. Gloomy weather and heavy rain filling the campus felt oddly comforting to me. I had my cigarette, perching it between my lips as the fire of my lighter meets the end of the roll. I leaned against the roughness of the arch, watching the rain and exhaling the smoke. Then I allowed my mind to fall back to its numb state, feeling indifferent about being late for Mass.

It was annoying to find out that I wasn't alone, though. Because behind me, in this pouring alleyway, you found me.

The harsh splashes from the puddles could be heard from this distance. In need of shelter from the rain, you sprinted all the way to the arch where I was and halted right beside me, catching your breath. I must admit— I was a bit irritated of your abrupt presence. Having my peace disturbed as you scrutinize me with those mysterious, prying eyes of yours.

How the Hell did you even find me? A student like you was not supposed to be here.

My nonchalant, dead gaze remained on the cobblestone pavement as I inhaled. Part of me wanted you to leave. Gone. It's rude to stare, do you not know that? I assumed that my cold, aloof behavior from a Reverend like me was rather perverse and intimidating, especially when I'm smoking on these "sacred" church grounds without giving a damn. But you... you kept your gaze onto me like a moth to a flame.

I was a total stranger. You should've known this all along. But you still chose to stay with me here, and we stood in strained silence as the rain palpitated.

"Never seen a priest smoke before," you suddenly pondered, but your voice was loud and clear enough for me to hear amid the heavy rain.

I give a furtive glance from the corner of my eyes. A beam from the glowing streetlights nearby hovered over your face, the depths of your features visible for me to see. For a minute, I was intrigued. Piercing, beautiful eyes with a lurid gaze on me, evoking such curiosity as I have right now. I am once again met with the bitter taste of arson between my lips and exhaling the grey stench to the mist.

"Not a priest. Reverend," I deadpanned.

"Oh, sorry. Have I seen you before? I don't think I've seen you around at church. Were you just recently ordained?"

I had no desire to reply because I really don't care. It was pointless of me to since I wasn't in the first place. But something clicked in my mind once I took it to all in. You, an unsullied woman— gullible of the prospecting, flagrant danger you've now encountered. A student like you was never supposed to find me, yet here you are.

I hear a sigh fall from your lips, exasperated from how awkward our encounter was. "Nevermind, then. I'll just be heading to Mass now—"

"Don't," I retorted suddenly, completely nonplussed of the words that just slipped out of me. What the hell am I doing? "The walk to the cathedral from here is… too far. There's nowhere else for you to wait ‘til the rain dies down."

You scanned the area again, rubbing your arms as the chill from the mist crawled down your skin. "Are you sure you don't want me to go? I don't wanna bother you..."

How apologetic. Just like most of the sheepish Catholics here at St. Reze that practice a religion dedicated to forgiveness. Perhaps my hint of interest for you was enough to entertain me as the storm subsides. Encountering me while I'm slightly under the influence of drugs... Usually I have no desire to associate with pesky Catholics and students, but you...

I don't know why, but hearing your voice for the first time was like dipping into radiant honey and velvet. I felt inclined to speak my mind just so I can hear it again, tossing the worn out cigarette to a puddle and making the effort to face you completely.

The sky was now melting into darkness, shadows filling the angles of my face as I turned to you. "I think it'd be dumb of you to leave when it's raining this hard. And hopefully you're not a dumb girl, are you?"

I was expecting a more sheepish response, but you chuckled instead like it was a rhetorical question. Even the subtle grin stretching across your face somehow softened my nonchalant expression.

"How are you even a Reverend? You seem more like a layman to me."

"I wish," I mumbled. "But I wouldn't be making more money if I wasn't in the clergy."

"Just in it for the money? You're not… committed to serving the church?"

Fuck no, I replied in my head. But I decided to stay silent and stare at the sky, noticing you studying my emotionless face in the corner of my eyes. Naievety and gullibility is really in your nature, just like all the pathetic Catholics and penitents here. I fucking hated it, but your curiosity was just... delectable to me for some reason. It made a wave of questions rush in my head that I was tempted to solve myself.

"Are you?" I spoke sardonically, side-eyeing you.

“Yes. I am,” you replied confidently with a smile. “Serving God and attending the church has been a big part of my life.”

How sad. How pitiful. A lost little lamb like you, blinded by the wrong truths of an absurd religion just like everyone else here. Living by this pathetic promise of an eternity without sin, pain, and fear… But such servile mannerism from you strangely amused me; I wanted to provoke it just for the fun of it. Derisively taunt your beliefs little by little and take away that religious burden; almost like corrupting you…

I need to stop.

The heavy rain had finally subsided and the puddles on the ground were now gentle and smooth that a water lily can bathe in it. There was a soft rattling sound coming from the palm of your hand that I did not notice before. Something smooth and ivory, almost like pearl beads glimmering from the dull alleyway lamp posts.

"Anyways… Aren't you supposed to be at the church early?"

“Don’t really feel like going right now,” I prompted with a small smirk. “What’cha got there?”

“This? My rosary.”

Your hand opens to a sterling silver crucifix rested on your palm attached to luminous pearls and red beads shaped like rosebuds at the “Our Father” mysteries. I didn’t know that these “sacred” objects could be customized as decorative jewelry instead.

“We like to have our own decorated rosaries here,” you suddenly explained like you’ve read my mind. “You can tell a lot about a student’s personality with how unique they are.”

My gaze suddenly wonders to your face that was emerged from the shadows. Even though my eyes were tense and my jaw was clenched, it felt as if my expression was gradually softening. Maybe it was the cigarettes slowly easing me. Who knows? But perhaps something clicked in my mind tonight; the unexpected scenario of you rather beguiling me. A woman with shameless passion for some deity capturing my attention— that's something I'll never forgive myself for doing.

"Can I see yours?" you suddenly asked, your eyes meeting mines for the first time it felt like you eroded my senses. Such an innocent and mindless question, but yet here I am; taking in your curiosity that was just as deadly as lethal drugs were to humans.

I dig into the pockets of my cassock and open my lifeless hand without a word. This was the rosary I was given when I was ordained; acrylic resin beads of black enamel and a translucent smoke color, glassy and polished like gunmetal. You scrutinized it like you were in an endless trance. I couldn't understand what a stranger like you found so fascinating about it.

“It’s so… you,” you mused.

I frowned slightly, not really understanding what that meant either. “Well if you like it so much, have it.”

But I guess I have emerged from the shadows too. Maybe the cigarette was enough to ease my palpable mood from such a fortuitous encounter with you. I didn't want our conversation to end, though. I didn’t want any of this to end so soon. I was starting to feel some sort of amusement. But it wasn’t until you looked at me, really looked at me; your sultry eyes simmering as you met with mines.

No words. No words at all. It was just the soft rain and your fingers grazing my palm ever so gently. Those lingering wet fingertips as you unravel the beads like how a god would trace the outlines of spiritual blood vessels. I look down again when my palm meets a cooler surface. Your pearl rosary was dropped right in my hand.

"Mine for yours," you muttered with a soft smile. "I'll give it back at the end of Mass."

And just like that you head down to the cathedral, leaving me alone to contemplate everything. It makes me realize how I didn't want anything to do with you at first. How I barely cared for people like you… But it wasn't until a wondering sheep like you made its way through the darkest route, like the valley of the shadow of death, encountering your sin and fate right there…

It makes me wonder. Would a stranger like you worship me like you worship your god?

When the rain had finally cleared and the light of the monochrome moon poured over, I decided to come to Mass a few minutes later. The Saturday Communion prayer was being recited as I sauntered to the pew where the rest of the clergy sat while. As much as I hate this job and find these practices meaningless to me, I needed to get paid for this shit.

"Most glorious virgin Mary, mother of god and our mother, turn thine eyes in pity upon us miserable sinners. . ."

There were different ways Catholics receive the blood and body for the Holy Sacrament. We let the devotees take the chalice by hand at the altar, store it until they get back to their seats to drink, or let us place the chalice on their lips. But such practices were painfully unappealing to me who gets bored and impatient easily.

Drifting my attention from the service, I scrutinize the gothic architecture of St. Reze. The rays of the moonshine from the mosaic suddenly coruscated the pearl rosary you gave me. The light captures my gaze as it shimmers in the palm of my hand. My thumb grazes the glassy material and the memory of us under the rain immediately lingered in the edges of my mind. I look through the crowd of heads to find your familiar face.

There you were.

I found this all so amusing of you; that redundant devotion you display so proudly for your god. When the prayer finally finished and the devotees walked out of their pew, I watched as they kneel at the altar with their elbows pressed on the mahogany bar as they await for Holy Sacrament. Majority took the chalice by hand while others took it to their seats. After giving out the elements of consecrated bread and wine, repeating the words, it was finally your turn.

You shot a quick glance at me as you kneeled at the altar and signed the cross; the pure epitome of surrender and submission. Never in my years of this life have I met a woman with this kind of sensuousness. Both of your hands laid on your thighs and your neck was arched back, lips parted like an invitation for the wine.

Titillating. The way look at me from below with a half-lidded gaze. Your eyes have betrayed your true nature, more prurient than the last time we stared at each other.

Exhilarating. The way your lips travel to the moist spout of the gold, letting the bitter wine ravish your tongue. I watched your neck, the way how you swallowed. A small drip escaped, trailing down your chin.

It was lucky for you nobody has drank from that chalice before. But nothing about this was holy. If anything, this was sacrilege. I'm not one to crave for anyone's attention, especially from one like you; but I've finally got to taste it this very fine night. If only you knew what you were doing to me right now…

No words. Just the intense undertones of temptation we have suddenly surrendered to. Because that… that felt like worship.

That was what worship feels like from a stranger like you.

Then you were gone. I couldn't recall much after that, but I do remember, how my eyes followed you the whole night, diverting my attention to you at a distance where you could never leave my sight. Only then had I come to realization of your luscious features and a savoring body, like the essence of sweet nectar and ambrosia.

I couldn’t wait to see you again at confessionals.

TAGS: @suget @azanthys @haezen @heavenlyevil @saturniac @vampnyx @emomanswhore @divinedabi @slut-manifesto

ALL WORKS BELONG TO VILSOO/POISEUNS © 2023. originally published April 10, 2021. do not steal, plagiarize, or translate without permission. do not repost/share any of my works where minors have access.

#ཐི♰ཋྀ ⋆ 𝐆𝐎𝐃’𝐒 𝐖𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐄. ๋࣭ 𖤐 #toji fushiguro smut #toji fushiguro x you #toji fushiguro #jujutsu kaisen toji #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk toji #toji x reader

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happilyhertale · 4 months

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Hot pleasure – Daemon Targaryen x fem!reader

Summary: You've been walking through the white landscape with Daemon for some time now. But relief seems to be at hand when you discover a hot spring.

Pairing: Daemon Targaryen x fem!reader

Warnings: Smut; 18+; NSFW; Oral (m receiving)

Author’s note: English is my second language, please forgive me if I made any mistakes (:

Word count: 1.7 k

Other stories of mine

12 days of smuff

Amidst the tranquil landscape, you traverse the snow-covered landscape together with Daemon. The world around you is a pristine white canvas that stretches as far as the eye can see. An unbroken line of trees surrounds you, their towering forms cloaked in the icy garb of winter and reaching high into the sky. Daemon alternates gracefully between walking beside you and staying behind – a silent sentinel keeping you safe. Occasionally, an annoyed sound or a whispered murmur escapes him.

The further the quiet journey progresses, the more the stillness of nature overwhelms you, disturbed only by Daemon's sporadic expressions of discontent.

"How much further do we have to go?" you ask after a while, but there is no answer. A glance over your shoulder shows you that Daemon is a little further back and seems to be lost in thought.

You pause for a moment and start to grin slightly. Slightly, you bend down to pick up a handful of fine snow. Forming a perfect ball, you turn and walk backwards, a mischievous smile playing on your lips. Daemon, still absorbed in his own thoughts, doesn't notice your whimsical distraction. Unimpressed, he continues walking, his eyes fixed on the ground. Only when a gentle bump against his chest interrupts his reverie does he look up and his intense gaze remains fixed on you. Before he can react, another snowball whizzes towards him and hits him just next to the spot where the previous snowball hit him.

"What the hell are you doing?" he asks with a hint of annoyance in his tone. Your reply, however, is nothing more than a light-hearted giggle as you turn away. Your legs carry you quickly, leaving him behind in a dusting of snow. "Hey! Wait!" Daemon calls after you, the clatter of his sword and dagger creating an almost rhythmic melody in the silence, accompanied by your quick footsteps on the snow.

"You can't just run off like that! How am I supposed to keep an eye on you?!" he shouts, endeavouring to catch up with you. Your laughter echoes and a quick glance over your shoulder shows you that Daemon is gaining ground. As you look ahead, you run towards the end of the huge thicket of trees.

You quicken your pace and come to an abrupt halt at the end of the forest, gasping for air, a slight stinging sensation spreading through your chest as the cold air fills your lungs. "You know you can't get away from me anyway!" Daemon shouts, approaching and grabbing you from behind. But undeterred, you concentrate on the landscape in front of you. Despite the heavy breathing you share, your attention is captured by a strange sight – a lake that defies the winter cold. Wisps of vapour rise from its surface, and the distant sound of a waterfall punctuates the scene.

"What is that, Daemon?" you murmur, feeling his grip loosen as you stare mesmerised at the mysterious lake spreading out before you.

"A lake," he says, pointing out the obvious, which you only respond to with a roll of your eyes.

"I noticed that too. But why does it seem warm?" you reply.

Daemon slides his hand down your arm and comes to stand next to you.

"Because it's a hot spring. It's warm even in winter," he says to you and starts to walk closer to the bank.

"What are you doing," you ask him, but you don't hesitate for long and follow him.

"Well, we both need a clean-up... and the water's warm," he says, starting to take off his belt and sword.

"You're insane..." you say quietly.

"Well... you need a hot bath too," he says, grinning.

"Shut up," you mumble and keep walking.

As you walk past Daemon, you don't see his eyes following you. You are drawn to the calm shore and the thought of diving into the warm water is irresistible. After all, the inviting warmth of the water promises respite from the long journey, which you desperately need. Your coat falls with unhurried grace, followed by the cascade of your dress.

The brief pause gives way to the decisive moment when your foot plunges into the cosy warmth of the water, an escape from the cold air. The rest of your body glides seamlessly into the temptation. Your skin feels as if it is being penetrated by a thousand needles as the warm water tries to bring warmth back into your body. But amidst the pristine white expanse, you are finally enveloped by the soothing warmth. There is an almost involuntary smile on your lips as you take in this paradoxical situation.

As you swim through the water and turn round with a feeling of liberated joy, you catch sight of Daemon diving into the lake. You are grateful that the warmth of the lake has already made you blush.

Your eyes immediately fall on the scars that adorn his body and tell an endless story of battles. But you can't help it and your gaze falls almost automatically on his loins and your thoughts take on a life of their own. You swallow visibly and can't stop yourself from imagining how big it is when it's...

An attempt to look to the side, to concentrate on the beautiful surroundings, is not successful for long. Your gaze falls back on his broad shoulders and muscular chest – but before you can let your gaze wander again, the water casts a veil over Daemon as he dives deeper into the water. You continue swimming on your back towards the waterfall and notice the tips of his hair slowly filling with water as he swims slowly towards you with a grin on his face.

"You like what you see?" you hear him say and suddenly you feel caught out.

"What...? No! You wish..," you say, but Daemon just chuckles.

And suddenly, before you can react, Daemon is standing in front of you, grabbing you by the hips. You cry out softly, but Daemon silences you and presses his lips against yours.

His hands glide around your body and find your bum. You gently slide closer to his body as he grabs hold and pulls you closer. You can't resist the urge to slide your hands down his neck. But Daemon has other plans and pushes you further back. Slowly, the water releases your bodies – but Daemon's body presses against yours, protecting you from the cold. You gasp and gladly let yourself be pushed backwards, but when you hear the splashing of the waterfall coming closer, you interrupt the kiss.

But Daemon is already pushing you through the warm veil of water. Your scream still echoes through the air, accompanied by his light laughter as he steps through the veil of water himself. The warm mist envelops you, but before you can complain, he silences you again. The water is up to your knees and he growls slightly as your hands move over his body. You break the kiss and your warm breath mingles. His eyes are slightly closed, but you see his pupils dilate with lust.

You slowly sink to your knees and you hear him growl. As you see his hard manhood in front of your face, your previous thought is confirmed... your mouth waters and you bite your lip gently. The urge to close your fingers around his length seems unbearable and so you follow the urge. A grunt sounds as your fingers slowly move up and down. Your gaze goes up to Daemon and you see him grinning slightly. But as your hand closes around his cock, he lets out a shaky breath, a grunt catching in his throat as he desperately tries to regain his composure from the sensation. As a sign of his dominance, he slides his hand into your wet hair and holds it tight – and you understand his request immediately.

Daemon lets out a moan as you slide the head of his cock past your lips. Almost immediately you taste the bitter flavour, which elicits a moan from you. His fingers dig deeper into your hair and grip the back of your head as his hips begin to thrust. The sudden movement makes you sway slightly and your hand slides to his bum, digging into his firm flesh. He only grunts louder as your mouth opens wider, letting him penetrate your mouth.

Your eyes meet as he grunts loudly and watches his cock disappear into your sweet mouth again and again. Relentlessly, his hips work their way towards your mouth, thrusting deep into your throat while your head is in his firm grip. You bob your head up and down, your cheeks go hollow. The wet sounds escaping your lips would have made you blush if they didn't turn you on so much. Tears well up in your eyes as he teases your warm walls. You suddenly gag as he thrusts violently and tears run down your cheeks.

"Yes... take it," he grumbles and you feel his cock twitch in your mouth.

Saliva runs down your lips, unable to swallow but Daemon only grunts again, thrusts harder into your mouth and continues to hold your head firmly in his grip. Another violent twitch goes through his cock as you gag again. Your gaze is fixed on his face as his eyes narrow, but still his eyes don't leave yours until he is almost brought to his knees by a wave of pleasure. He resists the urge to defy your limits and thrust his cock deeper into your throat.

The movements of his hips become bumpier, but his grunts become louder as you realise that he is pumping his cum deep down your throat. You eagerly try to swallow it all, but it's too much. Some of it runs down the corners of your mouth and down your chin. Daemon opens his eyes and grunts at the sight. His thrusts ease and his grip loosens slightly in your hair as he slowly releases your mouth. You're breathing heavily and still looking up, gently wiping the remnants of his release from your chin.

"You liked the sight of me after all," he murmurs a little breathlessly.

You raise your eyebrows, "Oh shut up," you say.

"Make me," he just mumbles and pulls you up. You gasp briefly, but then he wraps his arms around your waist again and kisses you.

@hoshi-miharu-blog @arryn-nyx @aemonds-eyeball @praline357 @melsunshine @drinking-tea-and-be-obsessed @lauftivy @valeskafics @bl4ckph0enix @autumnhymns @fan-goddess @msmorningstaarr @dreamlandcreations @hopelesswritergall @wetbitchlibrary @aemondsbabe

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akunoniwa · 5 months

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Prying

AN: i feel kinda evil bc the ending is sorta abrupt but this shit was getting too long babes... unless?

Synopsis: In which you and Dottore discuss pet names in conversation at first, putting them to good use not too long after...

Pairing: Il Dottore x fem!reader

Warnings: MDNI, Dottore finds your humiliation to be v irresistible..., use of 'master', 'daddy' (once! hear me out lmao), etc., mirror sex

WC: ~5.2k (she's long-winded, sorry, i think...)

You don’t understand the appeal.

As soon as you mentioned off-hand to Dottore that you didn’t understand why some thought it was hot to refer to their partners as ‘daddy’, he wouldn’t let you live it down. Not only did he find this addictingly humorous, but he also found himself curious… Perhaps you just never put it to proper use. Before you mentioned it, he didn’t have any opinions on the matter, let alone knowing it was a matter to begin with. But the fact that you were basically telling him that you would feel so degraded, so violated if you were to actually call someone this… He wanted to know, he wanted to weaponize this somehow, jokingly of course… He thinks.

“It’s just… Like, that’s how you address your father as a young child… Ya know?” You turned your head in the crux of your pillow towards him. You both lay in a leisurely type of bare, simply winding down from the day. Dottore had long set his book down, charmed by this topic.

“Well, wouldn’t it just… I’m not sure, darling… Some people are just so desperate to feel small, but I couldn’t tell you why or when it began. Sounds morbidly incestuous, to a degree.” You scanned his defined profile as he looked at the ceiling in thought, more committed to this investigation than you expected.

“Right? Like, why not ‘master’ or even… I dunno, someone not related to you?” You were waiting for this very reaction from him, a smirk pushing his fine smile lines to be visible.

“You never seem to call me any of those things…” Somehow the smirk dressed itself as a pout before your eyes.

“I– You never asked…? I don’t want to just randomly address you as something that might make you feel… Uncomfortable.” You must’ve forgotten who you were speaking to, a man who never seems to falter, a seasoned masochist. Even still, you stood your ground… In truth, the prospect of calling him anything other than his name simply embarrassed you, but you tried to keep that close to your chest in secret.

“I suppose you’re right.” He chose to respect your reasoning, “What if I asked?”

“Then I guess… If that’s what you like, I would do it.” You spoke matter-of-factly. In addition to the inherent embarrassment, you honestly found it hard to want to call anyone, any of those names, as you don’t usually give in that easily. This was something that only added fuel to his enduring fire, your playful resistance, the process of melting away your pride and dignity… All for him.

“You don’t even use my official title anymore. It’s almost funny, you’re the only one I like hearing my given name from, though usually, it’s only in here that I hear it.”

“Because you asked, you buffoon. You asked me to call you that because you told me you liked it.” You couldn’t keep a hold of your laughter any longer.

“Did I?” He remembers the day he did so, but found too much enjoyment in teasing you as he stroked his chin in faux thought.

“Maybe you should call me ‘master’.” Your giggles were running circles around the room.

“Would you like that?” He turned his head to you, his eye contact haunting you briefly, “Unlike a certain darling, I wouldn’t feel embarrassed to honor your filthy little wishes.”

“I said I would!”

It was his turn to chuckle, his deep voice resounding gently above you like its own duvet, “But you’d be reluctant, as you just informed me. Unfortunately, I find it amusing when you’re out of your comfort zone because I can tell when you’re just being your shy, bratty, self. You’d tell me otherwise.”

“Then we can both be masters.” Your laughter caved like a burst dam, dying at the thought of how ridiculous that’d be.

His face was hysterical, lips pressed so hard they’d lost their color as he tried not to let his laughter free, “I don’t know how that’d work… I don’t think we’d get anything done. Would we both be on our knees or just in a stalemate of power stances?”

“Stop– Stop talking.” The laughter was making your stomach tickle, unable to stop as he continued the hypothetical.

He rolled on his side to face you completely, “If we’re both standing in the power stance, how would one bend the other over their knee? It’s a logistical failure, darling.” His hand snuck over to gather a tear from your reddened face as your giggles died down. Perhaps being a buffoon wasn’t so bad if he got to hear your true laughter emanate from your infectious smile.

“I’d say we fight for the title, but… You’ve told me in various ways how you prefer to be the loser in that situation.”

“Try it,” you suggested, “Just try calling me master once, I wanna know how it feels.” A delicate, mischievous smile still lounged on your face.

An opening unlike any other, he’d overpower you with what you thought would be your pedestal. The sounds of blankets shifting flooded your ears as he moved to straddle over you, his powder blue hair hanging in ornate waves around his face.

“Is this not cheating?” You placed your hands on his blazing chest above you, your eyes lingering on how his arms flexed to hold himself over you.

“Only if you tell me it is… Master.” He didn’t hesitate, his eyes a deep, sappy scarlet, “You make the rules.” He referred to you like this so languidly, so heavily as he awaited what you might do next.

“I suppose I’ll allow it… I don’t feel very masterly when you’ve got me caged like this.” You took a liberty only the one ‘in command’ would, experimentally pinching his raised nipples for a reaction.

His long lashes fluttered as if a moth were shaking off dew. God, he wished you’d never stop, but he didn’t want to say that just yet, “Wouldn’t a master simply… Take control?”

He bent his arms to allow for his upper body to lean into you, his lips, taut once more in his trademark smirk, nearing your left ear, “Or… are you already stepping down?”

He felt your right hand slide down his front, anticipating your touch to collide with his exposed length, unfortunately the only thing he couldn’t conceal. He was easily aroused by you, though he was discovering… Toying with you like this, almost a perfect balance of submission was making his body rage for you. His willingness to even think someone had the higher ground was only because of you, finding that… Maybe he didn’t mind being controlled by you. But what really riled him was the thought of that pretty word leaving your mouth, so exasperated, barely able to think about anything beyond him.

Your hand sunk slowly against his searing, rigid body, not surprised to find he was already hard, his cock pronounced as it hung over you. You’d debated on touching him or not, but something about taking him into your hand was addicting… Just stroking his length, pulling on him deliberately from shaft to tip, as if you had him caught on a leash of your touch.

His voice, no matter the words or sounds that he used it for, was the key to your demise, deep with an alluring timbre. Quickly your mind was reminded, that he is the Second Harbinger… People find this man to be deplorable and menacing, his voice is only heard making barbaric commands or bickering with other deplorable, menacing Harbingers. All for good, supported, reason. But here, on top of his usual stony tone, grew flowers through the cracks of his demeanor, pollinated as you stroked him. His lips were so close… His shameless, sodden groans fall right into your ear. He was effortlessly always in control, knowing how susceptible you are to him.

“Don’t you want to tell me what to do, Master?” You wanted to punch him as he whined this into you, though not without defiance, his tongue shocking the helix of your ear, a trail of ice left behind. He wouldn’t dare allow himself to miss how your breath lurched in your throat.

You responded with a harsh enough pull on his cock to only remove your hand altogether, “You’re too good at this…” Not that you could mind too much. You pushed his chest in a way to urge him off of you, to which he easily obliged as you both switched places. His length pressed against his lower stomach as you sat over him to grind your pooled wetness along the underside.

“How long do you want to play pretend, darling?” You felt his hips gyrate up into you ever so slightly, ��You clearly cannot get out of your mind, too busy wishing I was taking over it.”

You thought for a moment, wondering how you could catch him off guard… How you could make him lose himself, even for just a second. Your uncertainty was making it difficult, “How about…” You hesitantly removed yourself from him to retrieve a toy from your bedside drawer, laughing inwardly, almost nervously at his impending reaction.

He wouldn’t mind what you brought, his intrigue piqued as you revealed your futile efforts to best him in his own game. Your choosing a dildo could mean a few things in this situation… Did you want to fuck him? Was he to watch as you fucked yourself? He waited with bated breath, already missing your heat against him.

You returned to your position, a buzz of pleasure shooting through both of you at the continued contact. He’d do anything at this point, just wanting to see how far you’d go so he could obliterate you equally and more afterward.

After briefly taking it into your mouth, you dragged the wet tip along the center of his front, all the way up to his chin, “Would you suck cock for your master?”

A foreign feeling, not unlike pleasure, barrelled through him as he saw the look he was waiting for in your eyes, “You’re asking me?” Chills trickled through his body, all the way up through his nose as a pleased sigh.

“Be good for me… All you have to do is open your mouth…” You strung him along, though he was too turned on to care, parting his lips to allow you to slowly push into his mouth. He could feel your legs tensing on either side of him, your clit throbbing against his cock as he did so… This was so good.

“I wanna see your eyes.” You weren’t so much dominating him but rather he willingly entertained you by playing along, this is what he told himself anyway. Looking into your soul as his lips clung to the rubber so sweetly, his dextrous tongue working with more enthusiasm than you expected… You didn’t think he’d look so pretty doing this.

Once his spit generously coated the dildo, you dragged it from his mouth, depriving his twitching length of your sopping pussy as you sat between his opened legs. Opening your own, wide enough that he could see the lustrous stage you’d set. You easily slid the dildo, gleaming with his saliva, into your beckoning cunt as he was made to watch.

Well played, he thought… You looked so beautiful as your cunt clung to the dildo that was just in his mouth, your contorted face making it evident that you simply wanted to be filled… Your pace was slow with purpose as you imagined him fucking you like this… He wanted so badly to be inside you, to hear your abashed, small, voice call him dirty things. You swore you saw his cock jolt with impatience.

His right hand lunged unhurriedly towards his sex, but you swatted it away, “You’re only allowed to watch.”

His lovely voice shaped as a threatening laugh met your ears. Threatening as in he’d let your antics wrack up to be used against you at the right time. His eyes were forced to shade themselves as he looked down over his toned torso, watching you intently. The only way you would be able to dominate him would be by his own hand… or cock. You had so many opportunities to learn from his example, though your mind was probably checked out at that point.

His movements to resist your words ceased, watching as you increased the pace of your self-assault, glorious sounds of your wetness snapping into his ears. His lower lip tucked between his teeth, your left hand playing mindlessly at the soft skin of his upper thigh… He couldn’t help but feel the fault lines of his heart threaten to burst at the lovely sight before him. It felt like his gaze alone was propelling your hand, the tension was caustic and heavy.

You brought yourself to the edge of your release, movements shaky as you caged over him like he’d done to you before. You only had to bring the toy to his lips for him to gladly collect your sweet, his moans, deeper than the Chasm, almost infusing with it as he did. He loved how your eyes branded him as you watched… Maybe you were learning something after all… How to adeptly destroy him, one glance at a time.

Setting the dildo aside, at this point, you just wanted to kiss him. His lips were glossed with a brew of spit and cum, but that only made it more enticing. Like leaves brushing against each other in a gentle breeze, your lips found his. His whole body felt particularly sensitive, your nips at his lips almost a tickle as you teased him. That is, until he captured your face between his hands, lifting his head to press up into you. It felt like the kiss had been placed into a kiln, searing and intense as he was exposing how much he just needed to have you. His heart attached to yours like jumper cables, reinventing what yearning felt like as his tongue swam against yours, disregarding aesthetics and grace.

You both were only left more of a mess than before. As you parted, briefly a salty thread of combined spit, like a spider web, hung between your lips before snapping silently.

His hands pressed down along your curves as if shaping clay, pausing at your waist. Your arms were growing tired, and you couldn’t keep your mind off the gravitational pull of your throbbing cunt, knowing how his cock merely sat in wait. You wanted to lay on his chest… For some reason, his grin only grew.

“Was it worth it? Do you feel transformed, master?” He batted at you with his words like a cat playing with its prey, knowing it was his turn, whether you decided that or not.

“You did well, darling.” You commented in a voice that mocked his own, causing you both to laugh in unison for the second time. Your head dropped in a forfeit as he squeezed your sides.

“Making fun of me, now… I see.” He clicked his tongue, returning to the program that he would see through to the end, “Go stand by the stool in front of the mirror.” He ordered as his hands dropped in time with a sensation of excitement in your stomach, starting with his interpretation of this act.

You obeyed, the kinetic flow of wanting to please leading you to where he directed. You were made to observe your naked body, though distracted when he approached from behind and sat beside you on the stool, “I want you to lay over me, your pretty ass perked for me.”

He could see a familiar gleam in your eyes that sent him universal, knowing you were following his every word like footsteps in snow. Bridged over his legs, his right hand found your plump ass as if it were a magnet, caressing your supple skin. You knew what his intentions were, though, bracing for how and when he’d deliver his first blow.

“Do you truly think, darling… That you’d be able to overpower me without me letting you?”

Whatever your answer was, he wanted to feel the recoil regardless, “You’d just tell me your submission was ‘playing along’ even if I did.”

His hand lifted but a few inches to collide with your ass cheek, gathering your flesh in his hand like a duvet, “It’s against your nature...”

You reeled in how he assumed his harsh demeanor so effortlessly, “Do you think the other Harbingers know you’d clearly bow to my will under your guise of controlling the uncontrollable?”

This clap to your ass felt more personal, making you wince as a squeak snuck out of your throat, “I don’t give a single fuck about those insolent boors. I’d not admit your curiosity in them, though you know I’ll just hit you harder.” Your eyes locked on his own in the mirror as he had well already caught onto your antics.

“So it goes… Perhaps I do wonder about them.” You pushed the topic over the cliff, the punishment he’d give could only really be a reward.

He tried to not allow his heart to be swayed by your taunts, “You think they aren’t familiar with your pathetic moans coming from my office?”

“If they’re anything like you, that’d only intrigue them further, I would think…”

Smack.

This time you gave him a moan of rejoice, growing addicted to the sting, his hand falling over the crest of your ass to explore your cunt. Your wetness overflowed to coat your clit as it threatened to drip, loving his aggression.

“Hmm… I’ve barely grazed your desperate cunt until now, and it seems you’re trying to insinuate something foolish. Then tell me, my sweet, insatiable, darling, what or who is it that you want?” His middle and ring fingers pressed into your soaked, petal-like lips, coaxing you to answer.

You were debating… Should you weaponize another man’s name to provoke him… It feels like foul play, as you really had eyes for no other madman but himself, he knows this well. But what if…

“You’re always hanging around that opulent-looking one with glasses… Pantalone, was it?” You chose to improvise listlessly with war anyway.

He gritted his teeth, eyes diverting away from you for the first time. He knew you were just trying to play the cards you had, God, he knew. But something inside could not prevent the inherent, possessive tendencies from making some kind of appearance. Of all the Harbingers, of course you’d choose Pantalone as your mode of combat. He’s such a duplicitous excuse of a man.

His two fingers plunged into your hole, he watched as the muscles in your back tensed, feeling your front wriggle over his legs, “I see how he looks at you, darling. He is so acquainted with wealth, he’s used to having everything available to him… He sees you with me and knows his ability to be conscious of his own existence will be compromised if he even thinks about touching you.”

His hand retracted to instead give your weeping clit a generous slap, the wetness enhancing the sound, then sinking back into you. His lithe fingers felt so dizzying as they paced against your spongy walls, how could you think of anything but that?

“Really, I brought it up because the thought of them seeing you like this turned me on, not because I want to fuck them.”

“Invariably, if they somehow saw me like this, you’d be the only logical cause… Look in the mirror, look at yourself.” His free hand slid under your face to push your cheek in the mirror’s direction, “Who are you bent over so pitifully for right now? It almost sounds as if you’d like an audience…” He noted where your eyes were as you followed his roaming hand at your backside, “Tell me.” He demanded, swatting your ass once more. He couldn’t chain back the grin on his face, waiting to see which title you’d attempt to christen him with.

You weren’t about to give in to what he wanted most, your pure humiliation…, so you opted to at least repay him equally, “You, Zandik… Master.”

“Really…” His fingers returned to your sopping cunt, more so as a reminder rather than a means of pleasure, “I think you know what I want to hear… I’ll give you another chance.”

Your face cringed slightly, though that wasn’t enough to disguise the way your hole clenched around his stilled fingers at the thought, “Fuck…”

He hunched down to ensure his words were clear, “You brought this up… It was eating away at your mind so badly that you thought it was safe to bring it up to me? It’s at the tip of your little tongue, darling… Your face is such a tender shade of red…” His hand pumped slowly into you, as if to lure it out of you with his feigned compassion, “Tell me, pretty baby, whose fingers are inside you right now.”

Your eyes looked to the supposed heavens for a moment, “I hate you.”

He scoffed sharply, “That sounds more in character… You’d be such a contemptuous little brat for me…” He gathered your hair haphazardly, pulling your head upwards, somehow amplifying his ministrations, “Go on, who’s got you bent at his will.” His tone was low though infected with his shit-eating grin.

“Fine– You… Daddy.” Your voice had almost entirely checked out. You knew he wouldn’t let you leave this position until you did so.

He laughed a riot right into your ear, though hissed like the snake he is afterward at the sheer pleasure of winning, maintaining his pace, “You look as if you could hurl, darling, but I don’t think I’ve felt your cute cunt clench around me quite so hard… You’re dripping down my fingers, I ought to make you clean this mess up.”

You whined as he increased his pace, egging you on, “That’s right… So fucking tight…”

In actuality, he didn’t care much for the pet name but rather just your adorable embarrassment, so he decided he wasn’t convinced, “Why not embrace it a little more…” Getting you close to the edge, retreating his hand only to prod at your lips, “Why not taste your humiliation, since you hate calling me ‘daddy’ so much? Hmm?”

You were shivering as the denied orgasm left you high, though not so much dry, taking his slender fingers into your mouth. Your tongue weaved between them so as to clean them completely, his eyes sharp, jabbing into your face as he watched. That feeling again, as if an hourglass had been flipped, all the blood rushed to his core as he fucked your mouth with his hand. When he was satisfied with your work, he slowly dragged his soaked fingers along your back to trace back down. You shook at the chilling trail it left.

“Hmm,” There was an arrogant triumph to his voiced sigh, “So sensitive, too… It drives me crazy, darling.” He moved to grip your waist, urging you off of him, “I wonder… Would you suck cock for your master?” His words wagged their fingers in your ears as he adjusted you to sit on your heels before him.

“And you say I talk shit?” You ran your hands flush up his parted thighs, observing how cute his folded tummy looked as he sat, watching you. His faint happy trail, the glazed plains of his pale chest in contrast to his florid, angular face. For a moment, he said not a word, realizing how desperately he required your touch, in any capacity. His cock leaned heavily to the side, as if in its last attempt of an exhausted taunt for your lips. Your hands closed in on him, his eyes fluttering as they gently pulled at his flushed length.

“I love it when you moan for me…” You mentioned as an aside before taking his swollen tip between your velveteen lips. His head fell back, and a groan, like a smoke ring, hovered to the ceiling.

His fingertips pushed their way through your hair, though with no other intent but seemingly to distract himself from losing himself too soon. He played with your hair almost domestically, petting you along as you took as much of his throbbing cock as you could. You could tell he so badly wanted to buck into your mouth, your hands gripping him at the pivot of his thighs and hips as he writhed… You wished he’d let you in on this kind of raw desperation more often, as this version of him played in your mind so sweetly.

“Such a good girl for me, fuck.” He’d never called you that before, but the sensation it conveyed in your brain felt as if your soul had fallen out of the window of your body. He had you where you couldn’t refute it, making you swallow that, too, without resistance, “I knew you’d like that…” He laughed wickedly despite his exasperated state, and it felt so good, “My good girl…” He almost sang it down to you the second time, making your chest waver, coasting your hands upwards against his tense torso. He untangled his hands from your hair, easily blanketing yours against his waist, effectively lulled by the lush of your touch.

His fingertips dragged down the stretch of your arms, over the horizon of your shoulders to round back to your face, causing you to pause in wait. Your eyes lazily gravitated up to his own, his face was tipped as he peered over his nose in his lecherous way, “Come here, darling, where you belong…”

Upon your standing, he twisted you around between his hands to face away from him, then pulled down at your hips to finally lower your pliant, sobbing cunt onto him. The friction of his firm chest against your back alone was tantalizing enough, his hot breath steaming your skin from behind making your body slack in his grasp. A hand left your side, gripping his length to align himself. The initial pleasure of his tip making contact with the magma that was your arousal against him was suffocating, your eyes heavy with refined lust, though you couldn’t tear them away. He lowered you onto his cock at a meticulous speed, so dreadfully slow, you swear you could feel his pulse. His groan of contagious desire shot through your spine as you watched him disappear inside you as he left you to sit completely full of him for his own amusement.

“Look at you, pretty darling, how you like to watch yourself take my cock so beautifully.” His wet lips played on your shoulder blade to leaf between his words, “How I wish this very image were branded into my mind…” Moving towards the crook of your neck, your head inadvertently swayed to the side to allow access, his hands forcing your hips to grind in his lap. His teeth brushed over the sensitive base of your neck, your shoulders raising as he teased your skin. You felt as if you were losing your grip on a certain aspect of consciousness, the way his thick length stirred inside you, brushing and shocking every nerve.

“Keep moving just like that…” He instructed in a whisper as his hands left to tend to your breasts, adding yet another layer of dizziness as he pinched and kneaded. He loved the way the soft skin of your ass brushed against his inner thighs, your cunt tied and bowed around his shaft so perfectly. He’d pause at your neck here and there to peek at your face, a delirious focus on maintaining your movements… Your precious sounds that now flowed shamelessly from your lips, he truly could never get enough of you.

You tried to lift yourself, needing to be properly rearranged from the inside out, but he halted your attempt, unraveling a whine, “I know, I know… My good girl has been working so hard…” His eyes fixated on how your slick literally overflowed, trickling down to his balls in a lewd stream. How you squeezed around him upon that name… It was too much for him to bear, “You really do like that, huh darling?”

“Mmhm…,” is all you could manage, your thighs twitching impatiently, an indescribable feeling winding up your body, “God, please just let me move.”

“I didn’t even have to ask you to beg, you sorry little thing.” He guided you to lift, your vision flickering at the sheer strength of the awaited friction, “Tell me more… How much do you want me to fucking destroy you?”

You gave in to his game, unable to resist, “So badly, Zandik, please.”

Finally, your hole just barely reached the precipice of his raging cock, holding you there, “I could make you cum just like this, giving you only what you barely need as you wished I’d fuck you right– Please what?”

“Fuck… Please, please fuck me, I need your cock… Please.” You squirmed as your voice was hoarse and almost unfamiliar to even yourself as you pleaded.

He slammed you down onto him easily, given how soaked you were, hardly able to wait himself, “When you’re this wet, I would think my cock is the only thing you need.” He talked both you and himself into oblivion, sticky slick between both his and your thighs accentuating the frantic collision of your bodies. His fingers were soldered to your waist, gripping you as he moved your body at his pace, watching as your breasts flailed rhythmically in his thrusts’ wake. He wished there was a way to consume the buttery noises you were making on top of him as his own bled into them.

You adored how his lips hung open, how his brows tensed upward as he exhibited both complete focus and abandonment, his mind devoted only to the way he fucked you in this moment. You found him infuriatingly handsome as it is, but to see him so breathless, his vast vocabulary reduced to exclusively vile taunts, he was utterly ethereal like this.

His lips curled up as you eyed him so intensely, forcing you off of him, the sudden vacancy in your cunt making you want to scream. He stood behind you, feeling up your front as he did so, “I can’t describe the feeling I get when you look at me like that, darling…” He turned you to face him, hastily stealing your lips for a kiss that dug into your chest like his nails did your back as he searched your skin hungrily.

Upon stopping, he moved to hold your chin in place, your face displayed in his hand like a gemstone gleaming in the prongs of a ring. His swollen lips were still close, his crimson eyes had a glow to them, almost, cascading a dense shadow of need over your features, “However I may call you, you will most importantly, always, be mine. …And I hope… I will always be yours, darling.”

#il dottore x fem!reader #il dottore x reader #il dottore smut #genshin impact x reader #genshin smut #作文

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itsmaferart · 1 year

Text

About Yuri:

Funny thing is that most of us fans are expecting this arc to be the 'Yuri's redemption' arc…. And so…. was something like this…. or so. —I end up as a cry baby after being shot for saving the chihuahua girl- Honestly It's hard to expect that this arc was going to represent such an abrupt change. In SxF the characters suffer from a slow and steady process, at least the Forger's are like that…. So, Yuri will take a while to show the best (or worst) of himself.

One interesting thing about Yuri's character, —at least to me- is that you don't necessarily have to like him, in fact, it can be enjoyable to watch him squirm in frustration and pain when he fails (sabotaging Twiyor) because most of the time he's a huge jerk.

I think Yuri's purpose is to explore how negative country influences can brainwash vulnerable young people even if their intentions are genuinely noble. In the end they fill their brains with a bunch of propagandist garbage in exchange for them working for the government and helping them stay in power. That is, a person's genuine feelings about protecting a family can be severely influenced by the social and political context.

Seen that way, Yuri IS a victim of the war, and he is a rather weak prey, who instead of being seen as someone directly hurt by the government, works for them and is congratulated for his labor…. So, Yuri is not portrayed as a tragic being, with whom you feel sorry despite his bad actions (Like Billy with Red Circus), but on the contrary, you want to give him a good kicking.

However, despite all the negative things Endo exposes about Yuri (which is too much) he shows that he still has a good side to rescue: the love he feels for Yor (as twisted as it is) is a genuine love and superior to any order of the SSS. Because Yuri doesn't care about his government he cares about his sister, his only family.

The biggest problem… perhaps… is that the way Yuri sees his relationships outside of Yor, is very much influenced by the Ostanian mentality of gaining power, to supposedly protect his country (his sister)… when all he is really protecting is the stay of one group of people in control of a country

Endo always punishes Yuri for his bad actions, always looking for us to see him with a weirdo that causes heartburn because he....is very broken. But he also takes care to show us that underneath that mountain of awkward weirdness there is a good person…. even if he doesn't show it very often and so far it's only towards Yor

Yuri's head is full of garbage… governmental garbage and very wrong ideas about protecting

If we recall, a major basis for Yuri is his childhood, as he claims to "hate himself for feeling useless", for being a burden to Yor —Because, Yor doesn't work for her, he works for him— That's why he became obsessed with being an outstanding student and holding a position to repay all the work she did for him.

So Yuri's goal was to become someone important who has a lot of power to obtain the supposed power to protect his sister, (or so he wants to believe). But in Ostania the only way to be powerful is through economic and political means. Yuri and Yor were poor and orphans, therefore, being a military policeman gives him enough political and social power (from the shadows).

The lie is that the power of the SSS is not to protect its sister, not to protect its inhabitants, not even to protect a group of children imprisoned by terrorists. The SSS only protects the political leaders and their stay in power at the expense of the innocent.

Ostania's policy is repressive, violent and cruel -Violence is power, violence controls, intimidates and eliminates whoever crosses your path.. Creating the idea of the evil world outside and inside its borders, everyone is trash and that if something bad happens to them it is because they surely deserve it. The government is supposed to be the good guy, because it protects, but it only protects itself.

His intentions are genuine but his methods are going in entirely the wrong direction. Yuri wants to do what is 'necessary' to create a safer world for his sister but the power he has and is wielding does not create a more peaceful world, but a more violent, hostile and resentful one.

But he has not yet understood the difference

The most interesting thing in Yuri's possible evolution is to find the difference between what he actually protects and the way he does it. He can't make the world safer for his sister if he can't even make the world safer for a child...And the SSS way is definitely not!!

So Yuri is a huge idiot Yes! …. but he still has the capacity to change for the better (or worse). Knowing that he felt a shred of empathy for the slanderer because he showed he cared about his family, and especially... He genuinely went to help save Anya (for Yor), his will for his niece is very weak, but at least I think it's a little seed change for the non-favorite uncle

#Spy x family #Yuri briar #Loid forger #Yor Forger #Anya forger #Spy x family manga #SxF #spy x family #loid x yor #Twiyor #franky franklin

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emil1863 · 9 months

Text

Dazai AU (!!CH 109 SPOILERS!!)

Ghost Dazai AU: Post current arc Dazai doesn't come back. Well, he does... Just not in the way he was supposed to.

Basically: Chuuya is the only person able to see him for plot convenience. Maybe Atsushi can like sense him as well for fun gags while were at it.

Dazai probably said, "Until death do us part," to Chuuya at some point, and bro took it to the next level. Even death wont do them part.

Odd happenings happen and idk emotions?

But I got the idea from seeing one too many memes. Dazai really just. Doesn't die. Also for the current arc I can't really see his own arc and story ending just like that. If feels really abrupt and sudden, like there's so much left to explain with him. Or at the very least, explore. We don't need to fully understand Dazai, but I always feel like we are missing fundamental parts of who he is. Or maybe I'm illiterate because this could also be the case.

A++ Character right there, love him and some days I cannot stand him.

Chuuya though, needs a break. Maybe. A vacation? I know he kinda dips for a good amount of chapters then shows back up, kicks ass, then leaves. But uh, I dunno, something about being a vampire with no autonomy sounds incredibly upsetting. Very traumatic. 10/10

Goiang to try and add onto this tomorrow when its not past my bedtime.

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mouschiwrites · 3 months

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hear me out 🗣️ 8 and 20 from the prompt list but with lloyd ‼️

You got it, my friend! Hope this turned out okay ^^”

Word count: 1.2k

Ninjago - 8. “Come here. Let me hold you.” and 20. “Your hands are warm.” (Lloyd) (300 follower event)

The floor was cold and hard, cobblestone scraping your palms as you were carelessly tossed into the cell.

You let out an enraged roar, stumbling to your feet and lunging for the door, but you weren’t quite able to balance yourself, so you toppled onto your stomach. Your fingers stretched to the door, but you had to jerk them back when the heavy iron door almost crushed them.

You cursed loudly, hissing at the new pains in your body. “As if they didn’t already beat me up enough.”

You sat up, flinching at the motion even though you were going slow. You looked yourself over, gently touching the blood that seeped from a couple especially bad injuries with your fingertips. But the worst pains were coming from your ankle, which wasn’t bleeding but was starting to swell frightfully. You figured it was probably broken.

Tears welled in your eyes, as much from pain as from frustration. “This wasn’t supposed to happen,” you huffed, wiping at your eyes with your sleeve.

“No,” a morose voice came from the darkness. “It wasn’t.”

Perhaps the worst part of this whole situation was that he was caught, too; thrown into this very dungeon a mere few moments before you.

“I’m so sorry, Lloyd.”

“What are you sorry for?”

You stared blankly at the ground. “For getting us into this mess.”

“Wasn’t your fault,” Lloyd said calmly. You glanced over to him, surprised to see how cozy he looked in the corner of the cold cell. He had his hands folded in his lap, and he was looking at you as if this was all the most normal thing in the world.

But when he saw your tears glistening in the torchlight, his face twisted into a frown.

“You don’t blame yourself for this, do you?”

You looked away, the abrupt motion jarring a tear straight down your face and off your jawline.

“Oh, Y/n…”

“I’m sorry,” you rasped.

“Come here. Let me hold you.”

You couldn’t bring yourself to meet his gaze, but you still shuffled miserably over to him, ignoring the numerous painful points on your body. They were nothing compared to the vortex of guilt you were feeling inside.

You rested your back against him, letting him wrap his arms around you. “You can’t blame yourself for this, Y/n.”

“It’s all my fault,” you spat bitterly.

“It’s no more your fault than mine. We did everything right; we were quiet, we stayed out of sight, we were following the plan—”

“Then how did we end up here?”

“Well—”

“I was staring at the guards,” you cut in, ignoring him. “I thought to myself, don’t you dare so much as blink, Y/n. And then I blinked. And then the guard looked right at us!”

Lloyd was quiet for a second. “Hold on,” he said, his tone suddenly losing its gentleness, “you think that we got caught because you blinked?”

You huffed in response.

Laughter filled the cell. “You think—you think he could hear you blink?”

“How else would he have known we were there?”

“First Spinjitsu Master,” he wheezed, “that’s hilarious!”

You snapped your head to look over your shoulder at him. “Are you laughing at me?”

“I’m sorry,” he managed between giggles, “but that is rich, Y/n.”

“You sound like you don’t believe me.”

He shook his head, finally regaining his composure. An amused grin lingered on his lips while he spoke: “There is no way that guard heard you blink. It was pure misfortune that got us here. Nothing more, nothing less.”

You just turned away, hoping to avoid further scrutiny. But your silence spoke louder than words.

“Y/n, you have to believe me,” Lloyd tightened his arms around your waist, bringing you close enough for him to kiss your shoulder. “It was not your fault.”

“Then whose was it?”

Lloyd thought for a minute. “Well, it was obviously that guard’s fault.”

You looked over your shoulder at him. one eyebrow raised inquisitively.

��He was probably bored, and decided to glance around for something interesting to look at. Very irresponsible of him, looking for distractions like that while on the job.”

You couldn’t help a little smile, which didn’t go unnoticed by Lloyd before you turned back around.

“As a matter of fact, I think he was in such a hurry to get us in here because his boss called him into his office.”

“To fire him?” You suggested, your smile only growing.

“Oh, definitely. I’d say he was a repeat offender on the getting-distracted offense. You could just tell by looking into those eyes. Those big, beautiful—I mean delicious—I mean—”

“Lloyd!” You could hold back your laughter no longer. You clapped one hand over your mouth and gripped your stomach with the other, snorting as you tried to cease your giggles.

The noise set Lloyd off, too, and soon you were both in a pile on the floor, literally rolling with laughter.

You came to a stop side by side, facing each other with softening smiles. Lloyd’s eyes were twinkling with the joy and hope that you always looked to when you needed motivation to keep going, and you were sure yours were shining with admiration.

Lloyd reached out and grabbed your hand, entwining his fingers with yours.

“Your hands are warm,” you sighed, bringing your other hand to enclose his. He put his other hand on top of it in turn, letting you absorb the warmth.

You stayed like that for a while, staring into each other’s love-stricken faces, your hands clasped between you. Your chests slowed in their rising and falling as you regained your breath from your giggle fit, and soon you were breathing deep in perfect synchronization.

Lloyd’s eyes suddenly flicked up and behind you. You didn’t need to turn around to know that he was looking at that heavy iron door.

“Okay,” he resolved, suddenly heaving himself to a sitting position and dragging you along. “Time to bust out of here.”

He tried pulling you to your feet, but you shook your head frantically and gestured to your grapefruit-sized ankle.

He inhaled sharply through his teeth as if he could feel the pain himself. Then, glancing between you and the door, he shrugged with a smile that you wanted to believe wasn’t mischievous.

“Guess I’ll have to carry you.”

In one fluid swoop, he threw you over his shoulders and charged at the door. You saw a bright flash and in a second the heavy iron door was crumpled on the ground.

He shifted you to a bridal-style carry as he hurried down the hall. “Okay, we probably have five minutes until they come for us. We’ll have to be sneaky, or that time will be much shorter.”

You nodded, trying to will the blush out of your cheeks. For such a lean guy, Lloyd was remarkably strong; something you always somehow forgot, resulting in you blushing like a school-kid every time he showed off like this.

Much to your dismay, caught your darkening face, and a smug grin came to his lips.

“Don’t blink. I wouldn’t want them to hear us.”

“Shut up,” you snorted, covering your face with your hands.

Thank you for taking part in our 300 follower event!! :D and thanks for reading, take care lovelies <33

(divider by saradika)

#ninjago #lego ninjago #ninjago x reader #lloyd garmadon #lloyd garmadon x reader #lloyd x reader

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mari-the-bimbo · 2 years

Note

hihi plsplspls a continuation from the storm brewing pt2 of the dorm sukuna series😭 if ur busy, its completely understandable🙏

The storm ended

A/N: I finally present to you a happy ending! Sure, it’s not great but ya’ll wanted fluff so here it is 😭

2 AM

It’s was 2 am when you sat on the sofa, patiently waiting for your dorm mate who confessed his feelings for you without giving you an opportunity to reply.

Eventually, heavy footsteps enter the living area. You know it’s him, you look up expectantly. And as his red eyes meet yours, you watch him quickly swivel on his feet to leave the room again.

“Sukuna, wait!”

He halts in his footsteps but his muscular back is still turned to you.

A moment of silence passes before he grumbles “you should be asleep, you got classes tomorrow”

You can’t help but sigh at your caring dorm mate who always found a way to worry over you. You wish he didn’t hide behind a disguise of an abrupt mean man.

You stand up and slowly walk towards him. “How am I supposed to sleep after what you told me?”

“I told you it’s fine if you don’t like me back, I don’t expect you to. What else is left to lose sleep over?” He retorted defensively, making you furrow your brows.

“My feelings, Sukuna”

You watch his broad shoulders tense at your words. You sigh as you walk closer to him and place your hands on his shoulders, slowly coaxing the pink haired man to turn to face you.

Your brows furrow in concern as you take a look at his face and notice the bags under his eyes and the reek of cigars. He frowns at you, waiting for you to elaborate.

But instead you brush your thumb against his cheekbone, run a finger against his dark circles. He squeezes his eyes shut, as if to shut out the feeling of your touch.

Suddenly his large tatted hand grabs your arm roughly, “don’t” he says. “Don’t do this to me”. You could hear the hurt in his voice and it made you wonder how long he was repressing these feelings.

You tilt your head in confusion, “kuna… how could you be so stupid?”

This time it was the pink haired man’s turn to express confusion as he stares at you with confusion.

You smile as your hands find its way to his shoulders again. “How could you not realise I like you too?”

His eyes widen at your confession. Left too shocked to speak.

“I’ve liked you all this time too an-“ but your sentence remained unsaid as a sudden large hand on your waist pulled you closer until your lips was smashed against Sukuna’s.

The surprisingly soft lips moved feverishly against your own, tasting every inch of your lips, cradling your head to an angle so he could kiss you deeper. You were so lost in the kiss, you didn’t even realise when Sukuna had you pushed up against a wall.

You tried to pull away for air but Sukuna refused to let you go, grumbling against your lips when you placed your palms flat against his broad chest to push him away, finally giving in after a while.

You both breathe heavily as he presses his forehead against yours. “I don’t want to ever stop kissing you now” he teases as his rough thumb plays with the saliva that sat on your bottom lip.

You giggle at his little confession, but you’re taken by surprise when he grabs your chin as holds it up to look up at him. “Do you really like me little one? Because if not, I’m okay with still loving you from the sidelines”

You smile sweetly at your protective lover and nod, making him return the smile with his own crooked lips.

But suddenly you pout and you take his hands in yours. “But kuna’ I think you need to work on your possessiveness before-“

“Before we enter a relationship? I know, I know angel. I’m gonna work on it for you” he says reassuringly as he strokes your hair.

“But once I’ve worked it out.. you’re gonna be .. with me yeah?” He struggles, and you laugh at his awkwardness.

“Are you asking me to be your girlfriend once you’ve worked it out?” You ask with a cheeky grin on your face as you lean closer to your lover, he chuckles deeply at your antics.

“Yeah that” he says with a crooked smile, looking away from you so you wouldn’t catch the usually dominant man feeling shy.

“Come on, let’s go to bed now! I got classes tomorrow, you gotta drop me off right?” You say with big puppy eyes as you pull on his arms, making him chuckle at you once again. The way you knew you had the big scary man wrapped around your finger was funny.

“Fine let’s go” he says as you walk up to the rooms hand in hand. “Can I sleep in your bed ‘kuna?” You ask.

“Ew why would I let a tiny ugly brat like you in my bed?” He teases with a toothy grin, and contrary to his words, he picks you up and heads towards his bedroom.

“Eek! Sukuna!” You yelp at the man suddenly holding you up with a firm grip on your butt, making you wrap your legs around his waist.

“Quiet little one, you’ll wake Yuuji up, keep the screaming for my bedroom” he dirtily suggests as he bites your ear playfully and you hide your face in his neck in embarrassment.

You could just get used to this <3

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upgradewater · 2 months

Text

The result of Goku's training with Shenlong when he flies off at the end of GT...? Goku using Shenlong's small amount of dragonly god ki? Why not both!

I started drawing this before the news about Toriyama's passing became public, so it feels kinda weird. Weird as in posting it in general, and posting it a couple days later.

I was inspired by a screenshot of one of those "what if" videos that showed Goku in a dragon form that was blue and purple with wings. I guess he was supposed to look like the evil smoke dragon? I went for a more traditional Shenlong-based look.

I wouldn't say my form(?) is a Goku/Shenlong fusion though. I'd dragon him up more if that were the case.

Anyway.

I used to watch GT a lot as a kid because i had easier access to it via DVDs (my rental store didn't have DBZ) and there were more reruns on. I watched DBGT more recently, and of course there are tons of problems. Pacing being the biggest imo. I think they didn't know what to do with the series.

But a lot of my early db fanart as a kid circled around GT and its ending. I think they stuck the landing there, although a little abrupt. Yet it's very precious to me. It had that mysterious air around it, and like the original DB og ending of Goku flying off with Chichi, or flying off with Uub at the end of Z, I think him flying off with Shenlong implies there were of course more adventures to be had for Goku.

Now that i think about it, that's kinda what Super was missing, huh... Of course he has Beerus and Whis' planet, but it ain't the same.

...Well. I wouldn't have written this all about this drawing if i wasn't waxing nostalgic about DB in general. And i know Toriyama wasn't involved in GT's writing, but it was nice to get this out of my system.

#my art #dragonball #dragon ball #dragonbabble super #dragon ball fan art #dragonball fanart #dragonball fan art #dbgt #dragon ball gt #dragonball gt #shenron #shenlong #son goku #goku

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deathonthe · 20 days

Text

ferrari parked outside | 1633

pairing: charles/max

rating: explicit

word count: ~5000

tags: established relationship, slightly non-linear narrative, under-negotiated kink, somnophilia, riding

summary:

Max is an embarrassing amount of gin and tonics into the night when Lando shouts very loudly into his ear. “Does Charles pay for everything for you?” “What?” Max shouts back. “I mean like– Seems like he’s always paying for you, mate,” Lando says. Holds both hands up in the air and dubiously glances to the side. “Not that I’m judging or anything.” “He doesn’t pay for everything,” Max lamely insists.

director's cut:

the following are my notes and thoughts during the writing of this fic. they should in no way influence the way you've interpreted it! but feel free to read it to gain some extra insight into my pea-sized brain

ok. one thing u should know about me is that i will constantly push the max verstappen babygirl agenda no matter what. sugar baby max is pretty adjacent to that

i spent an awful about of time deciding the opening scene, between first scene (B) and the following directly after (A), idk how many times i swapped the two. i was afraid if i started off with B, it would kinda give a tacky record scratch effect when u reach A. but starting with A made the progression into B seem unnatural and too abrupt so. in the end i went with B, then A because the fic gradually loses its seriousness and matches the kinda light humour it progresses into

the line "I want chocolates and those bread rolls they bake fresh." took me a god awful amount of time to write. at first i wanted max to specify a monte carlo cafe to make it seem more genuine but all the reviews for cafes in monaco were in french! which i suppose i should've expected. in the end i went with that even though i'm not completely happy with it

another thing u should know about it is that i care about character voice and characterisation above all else. i try my best to emulate how these people sound. i always sift through so much interview material while writing a fic to try and get the drivers' voice tones and linguistic quirks and body language as accurately and naturally as possible. and too be honest, i don't think i did that very well in this fic. i think i could have imitated it better

a little bit of french, of course. they live in monaco, charles speaks french. max doesn't speak enough, so not quite as much french as other fics (for example, for esteban and lance, i would generally write about half of their dialogue in french if they were only speaking to each other in a scene. it feels more authentic as esteban and lance communicate in french when they are talking to each other in real life)

i designated charles three terms of endearment: baby, cheri and mon cher

nothing made me happier than when it became canon that max calls charles 'charlie' in real life, because i was gonna scrap it from the fic because i thought it sounded ooc

to be clear, i never intended to give charles a daddy kink in this fic. you can assume he doesn't have one. neither does max

the running joke is that this is actually a proposal fic and not a sugar baby one

in the lando scene, when max cuts him off before he can finish his sentence, lando is about to say: "and charles also paid for martjin to dj at this red bull party for u." i wasn't sure if the implication was very strong, though

in actuality, max cuts off lando with a "fuck off" and lando says later "why the fuck would i be, charles isn't my fucking boyfriend" but i thought that was too many fucks and ended up taking all but one of them out

i know charles doesn't drive a red laferrari

the other running joke in this fic is obviously charles is not ever watching the whale documentary seriously. he was instead always thinking or focused on something else in his head

the ice cream scene came to me in a fever dream

charles can't actually procure the cheesecake factory, he's about $125 million in net worth. the cheesecake factory is over $1 billion

i am not a fan (i.e., i am actually just a hater) of when max is depicted like an aggressive, overly possessive, hyper-masculine suave, dom caricature from an e l james erotica novel and when charles is just delegated the softer, more feminine counterpart automatically. so. u see me subverting that expectation a lot

i had a lot of fun writing victoria's part where she cooks both charles and max within 100 words

did you know this fic is exactly 14 pages on google docs? i thought that was pretty cool

if i had to sum up this fic in three words: chekov's schrodinger's proposal

thanks for staying 'til the end!

#max verstappen #charles leclerc #lestappen #mv1 #mv33 #cl16 #3316 #1633 #f1 fanfic #i call it a director's cut but really it's just me yapping #my fic #f1 #formula one #formula 1

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boytouya · 1 year

Text

「SAINT」 ; takami keigo | hawks x male reader

wc: 1.5k

warning: suggestive themes & language, religious themes, one (1) crude joke about nuns, abrupt ending (scrapped fic)

additional tags: priest reader (kinda), incubus hawks, probably some religious trauma, agnostic writer who doesn’t know how to write things relating to demons + religion

a/n: this is loooong overdue and also months old, i’m so rusty so i’m so sorry if this isn’t good. anyway there’s about 3-4 versions of this fic so if you see it somewhere else dw abt it (unless stated otherwise)

Your fingertips trace the thin, pale paper of your annotated Bible, cold pages crinkling under the weight of your palms. Covering for your father, a well-liked priest, was not an easy job— especially when you strayed further and further from the Holy eye with every passing moment. The pews of the church remain dimly lit, moonlit and almost sparkling under the glass stained windows. The rich, brown and polished wood glows, light dancing between warm yellow lights aligned by the aisles, and despite the unwavering wholeness you should feel, you stare back at the empty seats with nothing but loneliness.

It was only a matter of time before you begged someone, anyone, for even a sliver of company.

You exhale slowly, reaching up to readjust your hair, even if it doesn’t actually move. Your wrist in your peripherals momentarily consumes your vision, but you make no effort to quicken your movements. The last time you’d felt this way he encountered something darker than light, something tempting. Something that, still, reminded you of your own loneliness, and the exhaustion that comes with it. The memory remains fresh, as though you were hit with a hammer amalgamated from the darkest parts of your mind, unbeknownst to the consequences.

In a Church, you suppose, love is always in the air, a thickening aroma that’s much too sweet for your liking. It sticks to the murals within the room, it clings to your goosebump ridden skin, it’s plastered to every page you turn to. It’s excruciating. It’s exhausting.

And yet, with the smell of his skin lingering on your body, your mind empties, and your thoughts simultaneously erode whilst coalescing into a serene hum stuck in the far back of your mind. The bittersweet tranquility floats above you for just a moment, descending as soon as moonlight peeks through the windows and into your darkening, tired eyes. It stares back into your irises, taunting you despite your expensive effort to avoid it.

It and it's dark children who hide behind the muse of a wickedly comforting smile. But, you decide, it’s because that’s what you seek.

It, who sleeps beneath darkening shadows, moonlight dancing across its shiny eyelids and painting its face with a silver hue. The way it bounced off its skin, you’ve ong since decided night was made for it. An Incubus. With warm skin and a glowing, crimeon tattoo below his belly button, a thin tail with a pointer end, strong dark wings, and a scantily clad choice of clothing. With angelically golden locks of hair, that fall in his face from time to time, and just as golden eyes.

A strong jaw, furrowed eyebrows, calloused and veiny hands that look rather large— or so they’d seem when they glide across your skin, sharp claw-like nails that drag against the wood pulpit.

It— or, he, who’s hands curl into fists as he grasps at the decorative cloth on the pews’ arms like a lifeline (or in most cases, your hair), as if holding them tight would somehow keep you there with him, limbs tangled and lips locked. Sinful in a place supposedly free of sin.

He, who stirs under the sun’s gaze, uncomfortable warmth blooming from his body. But you… You want nothing more than to hold it in his hands, cherish the comfortable silence and bathe in his inviting body heat, hidden away from the chilling air that signifies winter’s welcome.

He— Keigo, you’d come to learn, who wakes at the feeling of your trivial eye, with long eyelashes that bat against his cheek with grace. A smile places itself upon his lips, but before he can speak, a yawn ripples out his mouth. You watch as his sharp teeth nestle into his gums, completely relaxed under your critical gaze.

The rosary beads wrapped around your fingers slip, smacking against the ground where you two stand, and gasps leave both your lips. You, somewhat mortified as you quickly kneel, tucking your feet beneath your body as your shaking hands reach for the blessed beads. Keigo quirks an eyebrow, much more awake as he steps out to place his heavy boot just beside your fingertips.

There’s a sickening sound of friction against the polished wood beneath his shoe.

“You look better this way,” He exclaims, an uncanny smile splitting his lips as he crosses his arms. It’s almost impossible to notice the bulge of his biceps, your eyes trailing the way his fingertip taps against his flawless skin. Ignoring how obscene this must look— kneeling beneath an incubus in the middle of a church, with no one but the moon as your witness— a scoff leaves your mouth, and you decide the tainted prayer beads will do fine resting on the floor. “No, really! You should stay like this.”

As you begin to stand, his warm palm presses into the swell of your shoulder, keeping you hunched over, your face basically pressed into his hip. It slithers upward, resting at your cheek. His large hands obstruct your vision, nimble fingers pressing into the meat of your cheek as if it’ll leave a mark. Under different circumstances you’d have keened into the— almost — intimate touch. Under different circumstances you’d have kissed his palm.

“Keigo—”

“It’s almost natural at this point. You and the nuns must go crazy in here,” His eyes shift, much darker than before, and something tells you he doesn’t find that joke funny. From what you can see, his body stiffens awkwardly. His jaw clenches, then his Adam's apple bobs, and suddenly the air feels much thicker. “Don’t you.”

His question falls flat on deaf ears, as you’re too lost in thought to even think about what he may be insinuating. His thick eyebrows twitch at your hesitation, the hand resting on your cheek suddenly tightening around your jaw. Your lips pucker, forming a small ring as he forces your eyes to meet his.

And, finally, like you’ve fallen out of a twelve story building, the weight of his words hit you like concrete. Against his strong hand you mutter, “Don’t even say things like that.”

“Hm.” He hums, releasing your jaw with faux disregard, releasing the prayer beads beneath his feet. He watches your frantic gaze flicker back and forth, your lips pursed as you chew on the insides of your cheek. You’re as cute as he is touchy.

He could just eat you alive.

Why’re you here, demon.” Your tone falls flat, missing whatever malice you were supposedly injecting into your tone—and even if it had come out as a hiss, it wouldn’t have phased the being.

“Ooh, ouch,” The blond knocks a large fist to his chest, knocking himself down and stumbling dramatically as he feigns offense. Your stare is heavy on his form, despite the constant insults you just can’t seem to look away. “You wound me, Father!”

“Keigo.” His tail jumps, straightening at the sound of his name passing by your lips. He grins, cheeks blessed with dimples and freshly shaven facial hair. His demeanor remains relaxed, tufts of hair swaying ever-so-slightly as he steps around you in circles, taking in the sights as if he hasn’t seen them a billion times before.

“Always so angry!” Takami chirps, long nails brushing against your cheek as he pinches at whatever remnants of baby-fat you had on your face. Suddenly, the goofy, love-struck expression on his face faulters, and his golden eyes harden. “Whether you want to believe it or not, I felt you calling for me.”

There’s a glowing, magenta ring around his irises that you aren’t sure were there before, burning bright in comparison to the dwindling candles adorning the walls and hallways. You’d hate to admit it out loud, but there’s something inviting about it. As unfamiliar as neon lights accompanied by city streets and the smell of recreational drugs, but simultaneously as familiar as the warm buzz of the sun through glass-stained windows.

“Liar,” You bite your tongue, the bitter taste of nickels and dimes drowning your senses. Blasphemy. “I’d have to be a whole different type of desperate to even—“

“Aren’t you?”

Ignoring the prickles of heat that dig into your skin, you let out a frustrated sigh. You almost want to yell at him, loneliness and desperation are different levels of isolation, and you don’t want to think about where that puts you. His silly, ill-attempt at rendering you speechless wasn’t in vain: he’d won. For now. Proud of himself, Keigo hums in assurance and places his hands on your shoulders. He runs much warmer than the average human, and if he’d been any warmer, his palms would burn right through your clothing and scorch your skin.

”I know,” He pulls you forward, placing a hand behind your head as he cradles your face into his neck. You can hear him take a deep breath, probably trying to engrave your scent into his brain. To bottle it, keep it there, and have it whenever he needed. His warmth makes your eyelids heavy with sleep, and you find yourself sinking into his embrace. Reluctantly, your hands rest at his waist, the pads of your fingertips digging into his toned back, equally wary of his tailbone. “You’re not. Maybe I’m the desperate one.”

TAGLIST: @zawadni @indigowren21 @cannedfoodisbestfood @junkwhoore @dilfchoso @sanderssidesangsttrash @i-d0g @kaito-asmr @jream-23 @mhasimp666 @princejasno @onehellofasimp @corporeal-terrestrial @angelaturservice @shadows-of-nightmares @double-homiecide @rintarosaku @saturnsbend @trailsnix @luckduckanon @oddball215 @toodeepintofandoms @devilgirlcrybaby @playb0ysuna @uwiuwi @yuzukeni *if you’ve changed your username pls let me know!

MASTERLIST

#hawks x male reader #hawks x you #hawks x reader #hawks x self insert #hawks x y/n #bnha fanfiction #bnha x male reader #bnha x y/n #mha x reader #mha x male reader #mha x you #bnha x you #x male reader #male reader

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bae-del-moon · 4 months

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With Love, From the Other Side of the Apocalypse | Preview

pairing: sunwoo x f.reader rating: M (for suggestive and violent themes) | TW: death, blood, and zombie-decaying bodies genre: angst, romance, post-apocalyptic!au | childhood friends-to-lovers-to-exes-to-lovers, slow-burn fic summary:When the world came to an abrupt end, the years you spent avoiding your hometown and those who came with it after graduating high school fell kaput. After months of solitude, you find yourself packing what you can and driving for days just to get back. Unsure of what you expected, you find yourself having to confront the mess you left behind. You're no stranger to a broken heart. Neither are they. You're the one who broke Sunwoo's heart, after all.

A/N: a stolen moment in time from the draft fic that leads to one of my favorite scenes. here's to the new year & posting this fic soon 🥂

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Your breathing is shallow now, and you're half convinced you're going to pass out just as you're about to meet your end. It’s hopeless, you finally accept. You stop trying to pull your foot out of the mud and fall onto your ass, hands falling beside you, fingers digging into the mud.

All around you, the zombies clump together, hands outstretched as if you were already in front of them. You wait for them and suddenly wonder if zombies are capable of teasing. Or does this count as torture? Because you're sure you've watched them move faster before, crowd around something living like it was a race. Or were they only fast during the apocalypse, when they were all freshly turned?

There’s a sudden rustle to your left, and you flinch.

There it is. The zombie (zombies?) coming from that side has yet to lose its zeal. Against better reason, you twist towards it to wait for it and watch as it comes through the tree line.

He bursts through it like a bull on a rampage, the hood of his poncho falling off his head like a parachute, and everything slows down. Lightning flashes. Zombies start to burst through the tree line behind him. And your life flashes in front of your eyes.

You lock eyes with him. Suddenly, Sunwoo’s ahead of you. Not the one who found you by coincidence looting a grocery store for food, but the fifteen-year-old you left behind. He’s smirking at you, his backpack slapping against his back as he runs toward you. He’s still in his soccer uniform, cleats and all, and his hair is damp in sweat. Strands of it clump together against his forehead.

He laughs.

“It’s not sweat!”

Your lips don’t move, but you can hear yourself answer him.

“Yes, it is!”

“It’s not! Come here! I swear! I want my kiss!”

“It totally is! Even your face looks all sparkly with sweat.”

“That’s because you think I’m handsome! OH!” He kneels in front of you, hands around one of your legs, huffing. “Shit. You can’t blame me for this. All I wanted was my kiss.”

“Yes, I can! I was running away from you!”

“You promised me a kiss.” He whined, pouty, and you could feel yourself fight back the laugh that was building up inside you at the look on his face. You'd only been teasing him. Sweat or not, you were going to kiss him like you always did before the two of you went home.

“Sunwoo.” You huffed out with a barely suppressed laugh. “I’m only joking.”

“How was I supposed to know that?”

You laughed and shook your head, “Sunwoo.”

He lifted his gaze from your leg, the pout still prevalent over his lips. You smiled widely, and then locked eyes. Your smile dissipated without a single word exchanged between the two of you. Before you knew it, you could feel his breath fanning over your lips, your nose nearly brushing his. Your body buzzed, and you could feel your breath start to come out in long shudders.

“Y/N, you need to try pulling your leg out! Pull! Pull it!” Sunwoo, voice raised into a near yell, fell onto his knees next to you.

You stared at him, stunned as fifteen-year-old Sunwoo disappeared, and the twenty-three-year-old Sunwoo took his place. He struggled, both of his hands wrapped around your ankle as he yanked at it frantically, trying to dislodge your foot from its muddy mold of a prison.

A shuddering breath, much like the one you'd just remembered, escaped you suddenly. The world sped up again, your will to live resuscitated, and you pulled at your leg again. It continued to refuse to budge.

Desperate, you took a quick glance around and felt your hope start to falter again. The group of zombies following you were closer now than ever. Half a minute, you decided, maybe less.

“This isn’t working,” Sunwoo grunted.

“You’ve got to go.”

“Stand up.”

You could still feel him pulling at your shoe. “Run.”

“Stand up!” Ten seconds. The flat, croaking moans of the zombies melded together and muffled the sound of the rain falling through the trees. You stood up as he wished, clutching his arms, and forced him onto his feet, even as he resisted you.

A second later, when your eyes met his wide ones, you mustered all the strength you still had and pushed him away.

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You can find the FULL fic teaser here!

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gapsbetweenlovers · 1 year

Text

the way to his heart: part three

——

The brazen question Carmen just posed nearly sends you into cardiac arrest. Your heart suffers an emotional beating during the ensuing silence you offer him. Pangs, punches, and paralyzing shockwaves complicate your breathing pattern and render you speechless.

What's the other option?

Well, given that Carmen is taking your reticent reaction with a downward tug of humiliation on his lips and an awkward clearing of his throat, you suppose you could dwell on the logistics of his question while he patiently, albeit pitifully, lingers in your drawn-out bewilderment. You should stutter out some sort of coherent response, anything, but your unintended form of slow torture is kind of what he deserves for springing such an abrupt change of pace on you after months of radio silence.

Option #1: Take him home like you originally planned to. You still remember where he lives since the brain doesn't allow people to forget places once suffused with painful memories. Despite the strange feelings that would no doubt be dug up if you saw the lonely place in which he hides himself, the overall process would be harmless and devoid of muddling things any further. It's simple — You can drop him off, and if he invites you inside, you will politely decline and soften the blow with a parting embrace that could be the last one.

Option #2: Give credence to what he's insinuating. Or, at least, what you think he's insinuating. He... wants to kiss you, right? The closeness in which he currently sits next to you is too warm and inviting to be solely a coincidence. And he's been staring at you differently all day, his sunken blue eyes holding your gaze so intensely, it's like they're trying to tell you something he can't quite verbalize himself. Then there's his lips. You had the gift of making them lift into a smile more than once today, and whenever they did that remarkable thing, it was hard not to imagine kissing them greedily.

Basically, there's a safe option and a this-could-potentially-ruin-everything option.

You stare at Carmen's side profile in deep contemplation, weighing the two hypothetical outcomes of such an unexpected end to your night. And he was the one to initiate it, which is mind-boggling in itself. This emotionally distant man you've held onto in hopes he'd let his defenses down is now suddenly creating an opening to fully love him again after an excruciating wait.

Then again, you could be totally wrong. Maybe the other option Carmen is thinking of involves you leaving him alone on the beach so he can smoke and wallow in his woe.

"I can drive you home, so you don't have to take the bus," Carmen says quietly, the sound of the ocean waves almost overpowering the dejected tone in his voice. You notice it anyway. He's ashamed he let himself become so vulnerable, but he should know by now that that's all you could ever ask of him.

"No, stay," you insist, grabbing his arm before he can begin fleeing the scene. Panic surges in your chest. "Stay and talk to me. You were doing so good."

Carmen shakes his head a little. "Doesn't matter what I have to say," he murmurs while anxiously tapping his thumb on his knee. If only he had a spoon to occupy his fidgeting fingers.

"I care about every word that comes out of your mouth."

When his gaze shifts to yours for a split second, he appears mentally tormented. "Why are you so empathetic toward me?"

"Because it's what you need," you say gently. "Plus, believe it or not, empathy can help with the healing process."

Carmen shrugs semi-passively. "I guess."

Silence transpires. It's challenging to carry out a fruitful conversation when he sets up mental blockades in fear of wandering into sensitive territory. You don't ever attempt to knock them over, though. Patience is a virtue, and you know he'll one day find the means to reopen his wounds in his own time and allow himself to experience grief in all its raw, unpredictable glory.

The misery of grief is that there's no endpoint. It's a never-ending cycle that only wears a person down over time. It may get easier as the seasons change, but it always lies in wait like a predator camouflaged in the tall grass, ready to ambush and tear open the flesh of wounds you thought were healed.

Just when you're about to speak again, Carmen, with that broken look in his eyes, asks, "Do you remember Mikey's funeral?"

Caught off guard, you tilt your head curiously and reply, "Yeah, of course I do. Why?"

——

Carmen looked devastatingly handsome in his black tuxedo and matching bowtie. He stood next to his parents and sister in the funeral home while a long line of people offered their sympathies one by one. You observed from afar, watching him give fake smiles and handshakes. There was inconceivable grief simmering underneath the surface, and the bags under his eyes were sorrowful enough to show he was hurting deep in his bones.

His hands were calloused and restless. His soul was shattered and bereaved.

When you finally approached Carmen as the last person in line, the tears you forcibly kept settled in your waterline spilled over with a gut-wrenching amount of condolence. You saw Carmen blink abruptly like he was lost in an insensate stupor and flinch back to the present before you were thrust into his arms. He didn't cry. There were no choked breaths or sniffles, no drops of wetness on his skin. He was hollow.

You, however, were inconsolable and filled to the brim with mournfulness. Sobs racked your body, and you tried to keep them as quiet as possible, but the ache in your throat needed too much release. Carmen softly shushed you as you wept, one of his hands reaching up to cup the back of your head while the other wrapped around your trembling shoulders.

You should have been the one comforting him. You loved Mikey dearly but had only known him for a fleeting time. Carmen grew up with him. They were brothers together, and they didn't get to say goodbye. Why were you the one falling apart?

"I'm sorry," you managed to vocalize, giving him weak solace. "I'm so sorry, Carmy."

He took a deep breath that seemed to drain everything out of him, then exhaled tiredly into your hair. "So am I."

——

"I didn't shed a single tear that day," Carmen says, a shaky, self-deprecating sigh escaping him. "And I-I thought about that for a long time after. Felt really guilty."

"Everyone grieves differently. You were numb and hadn't processed it yet."

"But he was my brother. And there was just... nothing. Complete emptiness."

"Don't beat yourself up over it. I'm a very sensitive person," you admit matter-of-factly. "It doesn't take much for me to get emotional."

"I know." He swipes back a gold-tinged curl that fell over his forehead. "God, I know, and it fascinates me."

"It fascinates me too. I'm pretty sure I've cried over a sunset before.

Carmen gawks at you like you just confessed to a prison-worthy crime. "What? Seriously?"

You grin, admiring the moon and how it reflects off the rippling lake. "There's nothing quite like a Midwestern sunset. Sometimes, they're so breathtaking that I just sit and tear up over how beautiful this world can naturally be. How lucky are we to collectively experience such a spectacle? And it's different every day. Imagine how dull Earth would be if we were handed the same sky repeatedly."

He accepts your random soliloquy by pursing his lips and nodding slowly. "Heard."

"Anyway, I used to despise how sensitive I was. It took a lot of time and effort to embrace my fragility. But now I'm glad simple things like a sunset can trigger those emotions and make me feel alive."

You've learned that being sensitive is not a weakness. The inner strength and intuition that comes with feeling things profoundly have led you far in life. Now, you can hopefully guide Carmen, who's lost in a labyrinth of his own affliction, to the same place.

"I think maybe... you're my sunset?" It leaves his mouth as an uncertain question, and a disgusted grimace quickly overtakes his face. "Wow, that's the lamest thing I've ever said. Never mind. Jesus Christ."

All at once, your heart pounds, expands, and takes flight. This is what you've always craved from Carmen, this soft side that seldom sneaks out. His cheeks are flushed with adorable chagrin, and the correct choice between your two options is so fucking obvious.

"Just kiss me if you're gonna say stuff like that."

Carmen's eyebrows rise higher than the goddamn exosphere. Good. It's his turn to be sent into cardiac arrest. You don't know how you expect him to react to your boldness. Right now, he's looking dangerously close to the vicinity of your lips with the slightest hint of a smile.

Then he laughs and says, "You're such a dork."

"Well, am I—"

Two of his fingers are suddenly hooked under your chin, and before you can take your next breath, he lurches forward and connects his lips to yours, shutting you up in arguably the most effective way possible. Your nose slides perfectly in place beside his, and your hands travel to the sturdy slope of his shoulders. You hang on tight, scared to let him go. He needs this. You need this. It's been too long since the last kiss. The last one was painful and left seeds of sadness in the grooves of your soul.

Carmen's lips are chapped, but you quickly mend them by delicately parting his mouth using your tongue. The instant taste of cigarettes and oranges makes you groan with pleasure, and Carmen slides his tongue over yours, drinking your sounds. It's muscle memory the way you move with him — the physical dance of romance, the push and pull of sensuality. It leaves you longing for more when he eventually retreats his touch to get some air into his lungs.

Your skin ignites as you chase after more of his affection. Carmen's mouth ends up near your ear, his fingers fiddling with the fabric of your dress. "Missed you," he whispers, swallowing thickly. "I didn't mean to cut you out of my life. I love you. I do."

The hug you give him speaks a thousand truths. "It's okay, Carmy. Shit happens. You're working through it."

He hums in agreement. "And, uh... thanks for not giving up on me. I know I'm a bitch to deal with, but having you here makes me want to be better."

You kiss his warm cheek, then stand and offer him a hand. "We're turning over a new leaf starting tomorrow. You and I have some serious things to discuss — the prospect of therapy, your concerning smoking addiction, and the status of our relationship, just to name a few."

"All right, boss." Carmen slides his hand in yours and hoists himself up with a groan. He then pats his lower back. "Piggyback. C'mon."

You don't hesitate to climb on his back, snugly wrapping your arms and legs around his buff frame. It's awfully familiar. Back in New York, on his rare nights off work, you'd both get wasted and stumble out of bars or clubs with you clinging onto his back because you didn't want to walk in your heels, and you'd rather not walk barefooted on the filthy streets. He'd carry you wherever he felt like, the city alive with neon lights and the darkness failing to catch up. It was a time when you could both forget about the crushing reality of life.

"So, where does kissing fall on your list of things we need to discuss?" Carmen asks, effortlessly hauling you toward his car.

The moon should be envious of how brightly and beautifully you smile. "Oh, we can get a head start on that right now."

When his blissful laugh echoes around Chicago, the grief slowly becomes replaced by a swelling wave of catharsis.

——

#the bear fanfic #carmen berzatto imagine #carmen berzatto fic #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto angst #carmen berzatto fluff #carmen berzatto #the bear #jeremy allen white

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thot-of-khonshu · 2 years

Note

Steamy elevator sex with Jake Lockley.....

Y’all are on one with these asks!!!! They are too good…

Rating: Explicit 18+. It's brief, but it's filthy, folks.

Content: Elevator sex, violence (knives and guns), dirty talk, unprotected p in v, rough sex.

You weren’t supposed to be in this position, legs clasping the torso of the man sent to kill you, teeth nibbling on your earlobe. How did it come to this?

You knew the drill; whenever you came into contact with Jake Lockley, it was because he was trying to end your life, so as much as the excitement stirred between your legs whenever you saw him, you knew it was about to be a battle to stall him away from you.

The first time he tried, he pulled you into an abandoned street corner, knife to your neck, feeling your hot breath combine. You couldn’t help but laugh in that moment and so did he, two sadistic chuckles as you looked into his dark eyes.

He was studying the bow of your lips when you kicked at his crotch and stabbed his knife with his shirt to the other side of the wall. You swayed your hips, accentuating every step.

The second time you were in a car garage. You could sense someone was after you, how cliche to do it in a spacious parking lot. He grabbed you from behind, a gun to your temple and whispered in your ear with his rough and harsh voice.

Buenas noches, bebita.

You weren’t afraid of the cold barrel on your temple. All you could think about was the strain in his voice and in his pants as he grabbed you tightly. He could’ve killed you easily the first time, you knew this. He kept you alive for a reason.

You pressed up against the bulge in his jeans, hearing him groan into your ear made you embarrassingly turned on. He pressed the temple to your skull harder as he pressed up against you harder. The curve of your ass in your skirt feeling him through each roll of your body. His hand on your neck loosened, his leather gloved hand making its way to your quickly puckering breast.

That’s when you collided the back of your head with his front. His gun clacking to the ground as you kicked it away and pinned him to the car.

“I’m gonna say this once and make it clear, if you want to fuck with me it's clearly not going to go well for you. So I suggest you leave. me. alone."

"And if you want to stop trying to kill me, you know where I am."

You climbed into your car, speeding off as Jake stared at you in awe, knelt on the ground in search of his gun.

And you didn’t hear from him for a while. You could perform your other mercenary jobs, walk clear and think about what you'll be able to buy once you have some money coming in.

And then you walked into your hotel elevator. Things started off normally, a crowd of people all were inside and then slowly, people left to their respective floors and they left you with a broad man with his head down, eyes hidden behind a newsboy cap.

"Hello, Jake." You leaned up against the back of the mirrored elevator. Without a sound, he pressed the STOP button, and the lift went to an abrupt stop.

He turned towards you, his usual sneer written right on his face. His arms trapped you into the enclosed space you were in. You both looked at each other for a moment, you with an amused grin. How bold of him to come back.

He quickly grabbed at your hair behind your back, yanking it all into one rope, causing your head to lift up. You could feel his heavy breathing down your neck as he began to suck.

You moaned, pressing into him as he took his other hand to caress the side of your face, tracing his thumb on your bottom lip.

"I haven't come to kill you, bebita. Not this time." He growled.

You grabbed the cap off of his head, yanking it to the other side of the elevator so you could run your fingers through his dark curls. Jake removed his hands from your hair and explored your body, lifting your blouse off of you and wasting no time with pleasantries.

Soon you found yourself getting fucked into the elevator wall by Jake Lockley, the mercenary sent to kill you.

He had you hop off of him and turned you around so you could face the mirrored elevator wall. You watched as he lined up his thick cock, precum seeping out into your tight pussy.

"See how hard you fucking get me, baby? How I couldn't kill this pussy yet until I got to fuck it? How I had to feel how wet you are for me?"

"I'm so wet for you, you feel so fucking good." You whined as he drove himself into you, feeling incredibly full.

"I'm not gonna last long. You'd like that wouldn't you bebita? You want me to fuck my cum into you?"

You whined as he drove harder into you, you able to watch his every move through the elevator mirror. You could hear the sounds from your sex as watching him sink his fingers into your hips only made you wetter.

"When we're done, you're going to be so full of my cum, I want to feel this cunt milk me, baby. Te voy a destrozar."

He started fucking you even harder, making you clench and wail into the void of the elevator space. You didn't care if anyone could hear you on the other side; you were so wound up and ready to feel Jake fill you up to the brim.

He grabbed your throat, moving you up where you could see your breasts move up and down from the rapid movement.

"That's right, let me see those tits bounce for me." He growled into your ear. "Fuck, I knew this pussy would be so fucking good. I wanna feel you cum all over my cock, bebita."

He grabbed your jaw, pounding into you even harder. You've never been fucked like this before and you've lost all inhibition. Soon, you're convulsing on his dick, grinding out your orgasm as he groans into your ear words of encouragement to keep you cumming.

He wasn't long after; you felt his warm cum shoot into you as he filled you with sharp thrusts as he loudly groaned. You both took a moment before he slid out of you, his cum running down your leg.

"And don't clean it up. I want you to walk around with me in you all day. I know, I'll be watching. I always am. "

#jake lockley smut #jake lockely x reader #Jake lockley X you #jake lockley #moon knight #moon knight smut #oscar isaac #oscar isaac smut

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jinwoosungs · 2 years

Text

{ 74 }

the still doll.

lies of p. | au

halloween special; inspired by the horror movie -the boy-

warnings: slight dark themes bc it's technically an early halloween fic.

pinocchio x fem.reader

your friends and peers all called you crazy for actually wanting to fill the job as a nanny at a place that became to be known as the dark manor, but you suppose that desperate times call for desperate measures when you and your family needed the money being offered for simply taking on the job.

besides, you’ve met with mr. geppetto and his wife antonia before, and they were nothing but lovely to you and the local kids. they never once flaunted their wealth and were big donators to the local church. everyone was often curious about their lives and wondered just how they became so wealthy, but never has anyone asked the older couple out of respect.

with what little information you knew about them, you knew that they had a son who liked to keep to himself due to his shyness. because of his innate introverted nature, he was more often than not an elusive figure that spurred a plethora of rumors pertaining to the dark manor. stories liked to circulate, like how the young master of the mansion was born horribly deformed, or had suffered burns that scarred his once beautiful face beyond recognition. that he was so monstrous in appearance that he became the village’s own boogeyman in a sense to the young kids that ran around the city of krat whilst spreading rumors about him.

and this was the same manor where you had accepted the job. you simply answered an ad placed within the city's newspaper, detailing the job of watching over the same son that had so many terrifying rumors pertaining to him. no one was brave enough to take on the job, that is, until you came along.

you had a younger brother who had high hopes of going to school and eventually study to become a doctor. but with what little both you and your parents earned doing odd-end jobs, that dream was simply too much of an impossibility to make into a reality. yet that all changed the moment you saw the ad and quickly responded to it.

with the same newspaper in hand, you feel the carriage you had taken come to an abrupt halt. you clutch at your belongings along with the paper to your chest, eyes widening as you were finally in front of the dark manor's gates.

"we're here, miss."

"thank you, kind sir, for taking me here on such short notice." the carriage driver simply gives you a nod as you slowly let yourself out of it. you smooth back the skirt of your dress with your luggage in tow, feet landing as gracefully as you could manage against the cobblestone streets.

the sunlight was brightly shining as your breath came out as slender white puffs against the winter morning air. you couldn't tear your eyes away from the intimidating manor looming over you, casting somewhat of a shadow over your shivering form. as you wondered just how you could even get into the manor, the gates suddenly began to swing open on its own. mechanical gears were heard screeching as the gates slowly opened, giving you enough space to walk through.

you calm down your racing heart and step forward toward the dark manor, not knowing that you had sealed your fate at that very moment.

------

the door had opened before you could even knock, revealing the elderly couple as they gave you the warmest smile while gently saying your name.

"welcome, dear girl. come, meet our son, pinocchio." the grand door shuts from behind you as antonia gestures at you to take your belongings with you. "i must say, we are most delighted that it was you who took up on this offer to watch over our son while we are away."

"indeed, i'm afraid with what all the little children has been saying about him, our pinocchio is even more reclusive than ever." geppetto's soft chuckle and words makes your heart ache even more for their son whom you had never met.

"so your son's name is pinocchio?"

"yes. a wonderful name for a wonderful boy, if i may say so myself." antonia seemed like the perfect, doting parent, along with geppetto. the way they spoke so highly of their son makes you all the more eager to meet him as you even hoped to become friends with him.

while you followed geppetto and antonia, you had the oddest sensation of being watched. it was enough to make your skin crawl as your ears seemed to pick up every slight crack and movement within the walls. strange, why did it sound like there were rats or something living within their walls? and why would such a wealthy couple allow such rodents to live within them?

before you could even ask, you stopped walking the moment geppetto and antonia leads you into their grand living room, standing almost proudly beside a chair where a young man was settled.

upon finally seeing pinocchio in all of his glory, you felt your knees become weak at the mere sight of him. contrary to how the rumors painted him out to be, the boy settled before you was achingly beautiful. with soft locks of chestnut hair and freckles that decorated his entire face, you found yourself becoming captivated by his sky blue eyes. your mouth became dry, and you weren't sure how to respond.

"this is our precious boy, pinocchio."

you truly were expecting pinocchio to say something, anything to acknowledge your presence-

yet when all you could see was that same vacant stare was when your blood turned to ice.

"again, he's very shy, so we apologize for his silence."

geppetto and antonia must have lost their actual son in a tragic accident, for the only thing you could see propped up against the seat was a hauntingly beautiful still doll.

laughter was felt bubbling from within your throat, whether to hide your sadness for the elderly couple, or just at the fact of how ridiculous this all was, you weren't sure. geppetto's once soft gaze hardens immediately at the sounds of your choked laughter as his wife's attention was preoccupied with what you assumed to be pinocchio's replica.

geppetto takes a hold of your arm, making you drop your luggage as you were forced to follow him. his gaze was grave when he extracts a folded parchment from the confines of his coat, "you must not judge my wife and i so harshly. what you see settled in that chair is indeed our son, and we have put our utmost trust in you when it comes to caring for him."

he unfolds the parchment for you to read, where you now see a list of rules written out:

always read to pinocchio a bedtime story of your choosing, but make sure your voice is loud and clear.

he enjoys listening to records on the record player; always play those records at a loud volume while in the library.

take pinocchio wherever you go when exploring the manor. if you are wanting to make a meal, take him with you into the dining room and always make a portion for him.

by now, your whole mind was spinning. you had to carry that doll wherever you went? and why was he treating that puppet like it was his actual son?

you were so overwhelmed that you didn't even know what to say, or even if you could say anything at all. as if sensing your hesitance, geppetto takes a quick glance at his pocket watch and sighs, "it appears as though antonia and i must get going. i trust you, dear girl, so please, do take care of our precious son. i promise, you shall be rewarded handsomely."

from your periphery, you see pinocchio still settled on the chair with antonia pressing soft kisses across his porcelain skin. despite how frightened you felt, your heartache over how much they missed their son outweighed anything else. meeting geppetto's gaze, you nod and promised him, "i'll take good care of pinocchio."

"that's my girl." he gives you a few pats on your shoulder before joining antonia, "come, my love. everything has been settled."

------

the couple leaves just a couple of hours after your arrival, taking with them a few pieces of luggage before their own carriage whisks them away to god knows where.

you sigh and return back into the living room, somewhat admiring pinocchio. despite how much you knew you should be frightened, or creeped out over seeing something so realistic yet lacking so much life, the sheer beauty of him softened such negative emotions.

without the presence of geppetto and antonia looming over you, you allow yourself the pleasure of fully admiring him. your fingertips ghost over the cold porcelain of his face, tracing at the freckles that dotted his skin.

such attention to detail was something else entirely. despite being a mere doll, he looked so real, so human-like that you could almost convince yourself that he was a living, breathing being. his hair was just as soft as you imagined it to be, and you couldn't stop yourself from looking at him.

a sudden crash coming from within the walls makes your heart suddenly get caught within your throat, causing you to jump away from the still doll. fear suddenly gripped at your heart as you cried out, "who's there?!"

were you going out of your mind, but were footsteps heard coming from the walls? the sounds were so loud as they echoed across the manor that you were certain that those weren't rats that lived within the walls.

this place and this doll-

was it haunted with pinocchio's ghost?

------

the carriage carries the old couple toward a seaside town where they will be spending their remaining time at. geppetto looks over at antonia with concern, wrinkled hands gently gripping at the back of hers.

"are you concerned about our son?"

she closes her eyes with a shake of her head, taking a hold of her husband's hands before answering, "no, of course not. after all, he's loved that girl for a very long time."

"i can think of no other way to make him happy then by bringing her to him."

------

there was no denying that you were scared of staying within the dark manor in close proximity of a potentially haunted doll-

but it was too late to back out now.

a few weeks have passed, and oddly enough, those loud noises within the walls seemed to have stopped. it was as if the ghost of pinocchio (or whoever else) knew that you were scared and didn't want to scare you anymore.

perhaps what you felt was an odd denial, since you couldn't dismiss the strangeness coming from within the manor just yet. wanting to respect geppetto and his wishes, you did follow his rules from day one-

yet unexplained occurrences would happen.

the doll would sometimes appear to move on its own, like how you would find a book to read, or play the record from within the library. you would always set him down on one of the plush couches that were seen scattered throughout the room, only to turn around at upon hearing something move from behind you to see the doll suddenly settled next to you on the floor.

and each time you made meals for you and 'pinocchio,' the plate would disappear without your knowledge and reappear against the kitchen counter, completely devoid of any food.

honestly, all of these odd occurrences were what terrified you even more, but you simply took it in stride and simply went along with your day. thoughts of finally obtaining the money to put your brother through school was what motivated you to continue working as pinocchio's 'nanny.'

you were currently in the kitchen with pinocchio seated on the dining room table, making a hearty stew to help with staving off the cold winter chill felt permeating throughout the mansion. even with the fireplace burning with its embers, it still wasn't enough to warm the entirety of the manor.

as you tasted the broth, you jump upon hearing someone knocking against the back entrance of the manor. you were frozen on the spot from the fear, yet still, your curiosity got the better of you. you step closer to the back entrance and call out, "who's there?!"

"it's me, wick! your grocery delivery boy, remember?!"

oh, he has groceries?

visibly relaxed now, you open the door, seeing a tall and lanky young man with a head of straight, blond hair come in with two baskets filled with what looked like vegetables and meats. he sees you for the first time and does a double take, "whoa, i didn't think old man geppetto also had a daughter!"

"oh, i-i'm not his daughter, i'm just uhm, the hired help."

his eyebrows shoot up in a questioning glance, "hired help? whatever would they need help for?"

you debated on whether to tell him or not, yet jumped when you saw the sight of a familiar doll from your periphery. "ah! pinocchio, how do you keep doing that?!"

the man you assumed named wick follows your gaze to see pinocchio. "aw geez, don't tell me that crazy old man made you watch over that doll?"

“that’s disrespectful of you to say. isn’t this doll based on their son?”

wick then gives you an expression that made you feel like you were some insane person. “not that i know of. listen, my folks and i have always been delivering our produces to geppetto and his wife, and i’ve never seen any sons. just that doll.”

you grimace upon hearing his words, loosening your grip on pinocchio upon hearing the supposed truth from him, "still, don't say that or else you'll upset him. you may not have seen anyone, but maybe they lost him at a young age. here, i'll take care of putting away the foods you graciously delivered."

you attempt to shoo him out of the manor, but there was only so much you can do when he stops moving, planting his feet down against the marble flooring, "now wait a minute, it just doesn't feel right for me to leave such a pretty lady like you all alone like this."

"huh?!" you were flabbergasted upon hearing his words. was he actually trying to court you right now?!

“it seems like you’ve been stuck here for quite some time now, and i just wanted to give you a chance to get out of here and explore krat.” he winks at you, holding out a hand for you to take. thinking nothing of it, you place pinocchio in your other hand and expected wick to shake yours, only to be even more caught off guard when he takes it to press a gentle kiss against the back of it.

his actions make the blood rush to your cheeks, as you struggled to find the words to say.

“the name’s lampwick, m’lady, and i do hope that you give me a chance to take you out of the manor come tomorrow morning.”

you sigh, debating on whether to accept wick’s offer. at the end of it, you smile and give him a nod in agreement. it would be best to try and get out of the manor to avoid having you go crazy and develop some type of cabin fever.

“alright, i’ll explore the city with you, lampwick.” just as you sweetly tell him your name, you were both completely unaware of the shadowy figure that watched the entirety of your interaction with their nails digging into the palms of their hands.

------

you didn’t know why you had such a difficult time falling asleep that night.

perhaps it was the way your heart was racing with anticipation, excited at the thought of exploring krat without being stuck within the dark manor.

with the spare keys to the manor in your possession, you promised lampwick to meet him outside of the manor’s gates in the morning, further completing your plans of exploring the city with the young man.

you didn’t bring too many clothes with you, since you didn’t think you would be doing much outside of the manor, but since the opportunity came up, you figured that there’d be nothing wrong with taking it. as you spread out the clothes you had on your bed, you heard the sound of something clicking, catching your attention.

was that the door?!

you were panicking, heart beating wildly out of your chest when you tried to open your door, only to realize that it was somehow locked from the outside.

“no no no no, please, let me out!” you were screaming, pounding at the door while jostling at the doorknob, only to feel a sense of dread fill you when it wouldn’t budge.

this was crazy, absolutely crazy. there wasn’t supposed to be anyone else within this manor except you and that still doll-

unless-

“pinocchio, is he keeping me trapped here on purpose?”

you clench your eyes shut, banishing such silly thoughts from the confines of your mind when you continue crying out for help all while banging at the door.

admittedly, you became delirious with exhaustion at the end of it all...

you didn’t know when you had fallen asleep while slumped against the door, but by the time you had awoken, the sun was at its peak, letting you know that it was well into the afternoon now and that you had completely missed out on meeting lampwick.

with your body aching and your stomach growling due to hunger, you try to twist the doorknob once more-

only for it to finally open, revealing the still doll you had been paid to watch over settled in front of you. upon closer inspection, you saw that he had a folded piece of parchment settled on his legs. with shaky hands, you kneel down before him and unfold the parchment to read two simple words written in a neat script:

please stay.

------

you were terrified, and you wanted nothing more than to go home.

by now, you were sure lampwick was immensely upset with you for not meeting him that morning, and he had no reason to come back into the manor since he had already delivered the groceries for the month.

you weren’t familiar with the city, and you didn’t have enough money for a carriage back home. you were stuck here, with no clues as to when geppetto and antonia would return.

the still doll seemed to haunt you in every waking moment, and the beauty that you once admired turned stale and dark each time you looked at him.

you tried to follow the rules so as to not upset pinocchio’s ghost, but it was so hard for you to hide your fear.

and tonight was no exception.

you ended up staying in the living room with pinocchio settled on the same seat where you had first met him all those weeks ago. when you thought back on how sorry you felt for the elderly couple and the loss of their son-

but then recalled how lampwick was so certain that there wasn’t any son to speak of,

it simply succeeds in deepening your fears.

“i don’t know what else to say other then i am terrified of you, pinocchio.” you shiver, rubbing your arms with your hands as you paced around, never taking your eyes away from him. “regardless of how beautiful you are, i can’t deny how all this strangeness and mystery surrounding you scares me so much-”

the loud sounds of glass shattering breaks you out of your nervous rants, eyes widening when you tried to figure out where it had come from.

you end up running up the stairs towards the hallways, gasping to see three hooded figures wearing what looked like crudely made bunny masks entering the manor.

“hehehe, this is going to be our easiest heist yet.” the tallest one with the most broadest chest exclaims with glee.

“oh, and i see our little princess is right where we want her, too.” the second, more slender one lets out a chuckle as the shortest one digs their elbow into his sides, “shut up and let’s get rid of her already so we can get started!” it was clearly a woman from the slight trill of her voice, and they were all ganging up on you.

you whimper, knowing that this was probably going to be the end for you. you couldn’t do anything to stop the tears, nor could you scream as your voice seemed to be lost due to your panicked state.

“please, stop, don’t hurt me. you can take whatever is in this manor, just please-!”

suddenly, the sounds of footsteps pounding against the walls becomes stronger and stronger, seeming to increase in its crescendo, catching the burglars off guard as they take a step back away from you.

“the hell? what is that?”

“i thought you said the manor was empty save for that girl and stupid doll!”

“it WAS empty, so what is-”

the sounds of the walls cracking open was getting stronger, and you turn to your right to see the walls slowly split open as a man breaks out from it.

he jumps in front of you, and from that quick glimpse you caught of him, you were able to see startling blue eyes and a freckled face, the same face the puppet shared, but a slightly older version.

the man was dressed extremely well, in a navy blue vest with flowers embroidered within the fabric with dark pants. his shoes were made of the most expensive leather, and you were shocked to find a sword settled within his right hand.

he takes a protective stance in front of you, acting as a shield between you and the burglars.

“this is bad, why does he look exactly like that damn doll?”

the mysterious man doesn’t answer, giving you a brief glance when he tells you, “cover your eyes and ears, my love.”

the moment he raises his sword, you clench your eyes shut and fall down to your knees, keeping both hands pressed tightly against your ears. even with your best efforts, you still heard the loud grunts and groans coming from the young man as the burglars did their best to fight him off-

only to fail within minutes.

the sounds of three bodies falling makes you shiver before you felt yourself being picked up in someone’s arms. you gasp, clinging to the same mysterious man who had saved you as he shields you away from the sight of the fallen bodies. “are you alright, my love?”

you tremble, unable to think straight when you manage to ask, “who are you?”

he smiles, and you couldn’t stop trembling at the splattered blood that littered his features, seeming to mimic his freckles as they seemed to pop out from against his pale face. “i am the same pinocchio you have been caring for, and now i shall be your future husband.”

you couldn’t stop your shivering, unable to look away from him. if you believed his replica was achingly beautiful, then seeing the real person in front of your very eyes was an entirely different experience. his face was so angelic, and his voice, dear god his voice-

it was sinfully deep, as smooth as velvet, and you found yourself becoming even more drawn to him.

“b-but, what about my family? my brother?”

the real pinocchio continues to carry you all while letting out a rich chuckle, “not to worry, my love, for when you become my wife, i shall give you all of my riches. that shall be more than enough to provide for your family."

you knew you should be terrified of the mysterious man who spent most of his life living within the walls of the dark manor and took down three grown adults with ease-

but you couldn’t do so. more so than the fear was the feeling of deep intrigue at the knowledge of his existence. so all those strange occurrences were because he had been real this whole time-

and looking at him now, you couldn’t tear your gaze away from him, even when he places his thumb to caress at your bottom lip.

“please stay.” he repeats the same words he had written to you, making your eyes widen as the warmth returns back to your cheeks.

you were absolutely enchanted by him, you were sure of it as you found it harder and harder to try and look away from him. he kept smiling down at you, appearing so soft and gorgeous that it takes your very breath away.

“i’ll stay.” you finally tell him, forever sealing your fate as being tied to him, the hauntingly beautiful still doll now come to life.

a.n. - i decided to write and post this early bc i had a stressful day, and wanted to cheer myself up by writing another lies of p pinocchio story ｡ﾟ(TヮT)ﾟ｡ this was a fully written story of the anon who gave me the prompt to write a lies of p story based on The Boy ♡ hope it met your expectations dear anon!

currently unedited, but i'm too excited to finally post this 😌

all stories are written by rei; reposts, translations, and plagiarism are not allowed.

#liesofp x reader #lies of p x reader #pinocchio x reader #.stories

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