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#like every struggle he goes through?
timetravelingtoamess · 3 months
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I relate to odysseus because i, too, take ten years to complete something that should be done in 8 months as well as weep every single night
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phoenixcatch7 · 9 months
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What I'd really love to see is a svsss au where shen yuan had the immense powers from saiki k.
Like, svsss is already a romcom of a guy shunted into a fantasy world with meta knowledge and immense power for no reason apart from 'make a happy ending' as a fairly thick veneer over an absolute hot mess of a tragedy with a happy ending, red flags galore, complete with a protagonist completely removed from the concept of romance and resigned to his fate of being abandoned by the people around him because of the circumstances he was 'born' into, but he's funny about it.
The disastrous life of saiki k is a fast paced crack comedy about a guy granted immense power for no reason with meta knowledge of the world as a thick veneer over something a little darker and traumatic with a happy ending, complete with a protagonist completely removed from the concept of romance and resigned to being ignored by the people around him because of the circumstances he was born into, but he's hilarious about it.
Now I don't think it should be a 1-1 transplant of saiki to the svsss world, but to imagine an sy with those powers who didn't manage to find loyal friends, who moved out to live alone as soon as possible to avoid issues with his powers, who gravitated to web novels because of their regular updates as opposed to being constantly spoiled for books with finished endings. An sy who despite his ridiculous levels of power died alone in a stupid way and woke up in a world filled with people who also had immense and varied powers, dealing with the prospect of immortality when his own powers are still constantly growing and interfering with his life, but be silly about it.
I want to see a sy with telepathy still failing to understand what lbhs deal is because of his own denial, a sy with the power to crush mountains with a finger trying not to blow down walls with a sneeze because someone put him on a mountain FILLED with plants in SPRING, an sy who deleted an entire country from the planet aged four trying to dodge overly enthusiastic maidens he keeps saving because he doesn't want to steal from the protagonist and also no, lady, please. Shen yuan sitting in the water prison absolutely deadpan as people try and scare him with 10 iq stories about the acid waterfalls. An sy who hares around the peak trying to avoid being spotted on valentines day as he redirects unwanted admirers and improves his disciples dates just so they can all have a good day.
An sqh who really, honestly truly doesn't know how pidw was made real, honest!! All he could do was see ghosts! It's not his fault the story he wrote to make rent turned into all of this!! But because you're here can you pretty please make some ice, I'm in desperate need of air con and my king hasn't showed up in weeks!
Sqq and sqh playing telepathic chess during boring meetings and sqq leaving him to suffer when sqh is asked a question even though he himself knows the answer.
Lbh trying everything to get shizuns attention and discovering his total weakness to his cooking. Like, will let you cheat in class levels of bribery.
Sqq stalking dourly through fields of aphrodisiac plant because he's raised his body temperature high enough to burn out any pollen before it gets too close and the system just despairing at getting this man to do something interesting.
Cat!sqq transforming back as fast as he can because he's got a meeting in half an hour and having to rush around trying to find something to cover the cat ears he didn't manage get rid of.
Shen qingqiu pulling out his limiters and dropping the mask to reveal a deity in the shape of a man, something crafted purely of psychic energy and burning fury, determined to hold maigu ridge together and keep the realms apart with his will alone, to save luo binghe if it killed him again. A shining aura stretching miles, glowing like a star, halting the earthquake with his bare hands.
Sqq seeing a bug and freaking out so hard he teleports to the northern demon realm and lands in a slushy pond, and sqh nearly giving him away because of how hard he's laughing.
#Like honestly the parallels are great#Long post#Sqq leaning hard into the aloof elegant scholar vibes because he still struggles to control his strength even with the limiters#He doesn't want to hurt anyone.#Sqh: please please tell me what my king is thinking right now he's been glaring at me all day!#Sqq (having been forced to hear an endless carnal monologue for hours from him): oh no not a chance. No way are you getting me involved.#Sqq: whatever insane thing you two have going on go ahead. Just don't involve anyone else in that EVER.#Sqh: bro 😭?!#Sqq: *makes a peace sign and goes invisible*#Sqh: BRO?!! Not even... Expensive northern import for the protagonist to cook with?#Sqq: *reappears with a pop* go on...#Sqh is salty he didn't get the godlike powers when he created the world they're in. Sqq tells him it isn't worth it#Being forced to see the past of an object with just a touch when you live in 5 million words of bad smut?? NO THANK YOU.#But both being espers AND from the same world they're still buddies (much to sqqs dismay).#Sqh is just barely outside sqqs telepathy range on an ding and lives in fear of him sensing him writing and catapulting himself#through the window at mach ten to beat him up.#Sqq every time he has to sit through a meeting with some corrupt official: thought crimes aren't real thought crimes don't count#Sqh: so how are you this bad at feelings. My guy you are an empath.#Sqq: shut up.#Lbh would definitely catch sqq doing something impossible or op and be so head over heels. He's like his father that way.#svsss#svsss au#shen qingqiu#shen yuan#scum villain's self saving system#scum villian self saving system#sqq#shang qinghua#sqh#svsss shen qingqiu
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omgeto · 8 months
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☆ WHEN YOU BREAK UP AND MAKE UP — NANAMI KENTO
summary: fed up with your stagnant marriage, you serve your husband divorce papers as a final cry to show you're tired of his behaviour. but you forget that, although he doesn't always show it, your husband never goes down without a fight.
w/c: 3.5k
cw: angst to fluff, nanami may come across as an asshole but he means it with love, plot with a dash of porn at the end, so mdni!!, semi-public sex (you fuck in an elevator) afab!reader
authors note: first fic on the new blog (wild) but I actually really fw this fic, hope you all do to. not fully proof read so ignore mistakes!!
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nanami's footsteps echo through the dimly lit hallway as he approaches your apartment. his heart pounds against his ribs, a mixture of irritation, confusion, and hurt swirling within him. he had seen the divorce papers, his name scrawled across the top in bold letters, and the shock has left him simmering with resentment.
with a determined exhale, he raises his hand and knocks on your door. the door swings open, revealing his surprised expression. his eyes widen as he takes in your clenched jaw and the tension etched into your features.
"kento," your voice wavers, a mix of surprise and something he can't quite place.
"i didn't expect to find divorce papers on my desk at work," he bites out, his tone sharp and impatient.
your cheeks flush slightly, your gaze flickering away for a moment before returning to meet his stare. "it got your attention, didn't it?" you retort, your voice tinged with exasperation.
"attention?" nanami's voice drips with sarcasm. "you think serving me divorce papers at my job is the way to solve our problems?"
"you've been distant, nanami," your voice holds a trace of weariness. "we've been living separate lives for weeks. i needed you to know that something has to change."
nanami's irritation flares, his patience wearing thin. "dropping divorce papers on my desk is your way of communication now?"
"you've brushed me off every time i've tried to talk," your voice holds a hint of frustration, your eyes betraying a simmering anger. "maybe this is the only language you'll understand."
nanami's annoyance collides with a stubborn resistance, his grip on his emotions hardening. "you know i've been busy," he states curtly.
"busy ignoring me," your voice is edged with bitterness, your expression growing weary.
nanami's frustration deepens, and he steps closer, his gaze unwavering. "you could have talked to me."
you look away, your jaw clenched. "tried that." he reaches out to you but you brush him off, backing out of his space. 
you didn’t know what the exact turning point of your marriage was, but once it came it was overwhelming, swept you both up in a whirl of frustration. nanami didn’t feel like yours anymore – he was a shell of the guy you married. there were no more morning kisses, gentle touches, or late-night talks that once filled your lives. the silence in your shared space became a chasm, widening with each passing day. you pleaded for his attention, for a connection, but it was as if he was slipping away, becoming a stranger.
"you’ve taken this game of yours too far," he scoffs, disbelief and a hint of frustration in his voice. nanami had never imagined it would come to this – the thought of you leaving him was a reality he was struggling to accept. he wasn't blind to the shifts in your relationship, the growing distance, but he had convinced himself that it was a phase. a bad period that could be smoothed out with a little time and patience.
when you gathered your belongings and walked away, nearly a month ago now, he allowed you to go, certain that this was just a phase, a moment of frustration that would pass.
"i thought we were just going through a rough patch," he continues, his voice carrying a self-assured edge. "didn't think you'd take it to this extreme. you really tried to embarrass me at work with that shit, everybody saw y’know, my colleagues, my boss.”
your eyes narrow at his response, the frustration that had simmered inside you starting to boil over. "It's not a game, nanami. this isn't some ploy for attention."
“so you’ve given up on me then? on us?” he asks incredulously, stepping closer to you, studying your face.
your gaze holds his, determination mixing with the hurt that still lingers. "i didn't want to give up, but i can't keep holding on to something that's slipping away."
nanami's eyes search yours, a moment of vulnerability flickering across his features before he masks it with his trademark confidence. "you think i'll just let you go that easily?"
you meet his gaze head-on, the tension between you palpable. "it's not about whether you'll 'let' me. it's about whether we're both willing to put in the effort to fix what's broken."
his smirk fades, his gaze intense as he studies you. "and? are you willing?"
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nanami didn’t realise how silent his home was without you in it. when he returned, he sat in silence, the weight of your ultimatum sinking in. ‘it’s not a game nanami’ your previous words repeatedly echo through his mind. he had always prided himself on his rationality, on his ability to see things logically, but when it came to you, it was an unfamiliar territory,
he had grown accustomed to the routine of his life, the predictable patterns that had lulled him into a sense of complacency. he had convinced himself that the distance between you two would eventually close on its own. and now, confronted with the reality of your departure, he couldn't deny the truth any longer.
“you’ve really fucked this up nanamin,” gojo lectures over the phone to nanami, “you deserved getting embarrassed at your job.”
“i didn’t call you to be told off,” nanami says, pinching his nose “i called for you to tell me what to do.”
“Isn’t it obvious?” gojo questions, “you know what she wants.”
“If i did, i wouldn’t be on the phone with you, would i?” nanami snaps, frustration brewing.
“she wants the guy she married.” gojo states, ignoring nanami’s tone.
“I am that guy,” there was a pause, as if nanami could see gojo’s pointed look through the phone, “well i thought i was that guy. but i know she doesn’t want to divorce me for real, she loves me.”
“does she though?” gojo questions, “remember nanamin, i was there when you guys got married, the way she looked at you then… isn’t how she looks at you now.”
nanami ends the call abruptly, pacing around his living room. gojo’s words sticking in his mind. he had reached out to his friend seeking guidance, but it’s becoming evident that the answers he’s seeking might not be as straightforward as he had hoped.
gojo’s words struck a nerve, he was right. nanami remembers the early days of your relationship, the excitement, the adoration - the way your eyes would light up when you looked at him. but now, the distance, the hurt, it was evident.
he was going to make things right, he had to. you were his wife - his soulmate. he’s known that from the day he laid eyes on you, and he doesn’t want to let you out of his grasp.
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it had been months since you served nanami the divorce papers – he was stalling. you couldn’t deny that he was trying though, the daily flowers that you received, the take out that was delivered to your house without you asking, was a testament to that.
you got daily calls, texts and emails from him asking you about your day, about your wellbeing. he was showing you that he cared, and it  was as if he was courting you all over again. 
his efforts didn’t go unnoticed, your friends and family could see the subtle smiles you couldn’t suppress and the softening of your eyes when his name was mentioned. they hoped for your sake that nanami would keep consistent.
you felt hopeful, and that made you feel dumb. 
but you just needed one more push to feel secure, to feel like this would work – would last. which is why you were standing in the lobby of your lawyers office, your feet tapping nervously against the floor as you wait for your husband to arrive. 
“hi, my love,” he greets, the familiar pet name coming out like a whisper, but it doesn’t go unnoticed, “i guess we should head up there.”
“yeah, lead the way,” you say, your tone warmer than you expect as you take in his appearance. he was dressed in one of his signature crisp suits, in fact it was your favourite suit of his, and he was wearing the hell out of it.
you follow him to the elevator, the hallway stretching ahead as you both walk side by side. you haven’t felt like this in a long time, like a pair, a union. nanami’s presence beside you is both familiar and foreign, a reminder of the life you once shared and the uncertainty of what lies ahead.
“we don’t have to go this meeting you know,” nanami forces out, but you ignore him pushing the button of the floor you need to be at.
“love listen, it doesn’t have to be this way,” he persists.
“and what way is it kento?” you argue, “just because you’ve been sending me flowers, and asking me how i am each day, doesn’t mean you’ve magically became husband material again.”
“trust me, i know that.” he scoffs, “you’re a real piece of work bu-”
“and you’re a real piece of sh-” you start, stopping yourself as you realise that you were the one going too far.
“as i was saying,” he continues, “you’re a real piece of work, but you’re worth it. you always have been, from the moment i met you i knew you were going to cause me trouble but i ended up loving you for that.”
“well tell that to your actions for the past–” you pause, feeling the elevator coming to an abrupt stop, “why did the elevator just close… the last thing i need right now is to be trapped.”
nanami's gaze shifts to the control panel, his eyebrows furrowing. "looks like we're stuck."
you glance at him, your heart racing for a different reason now. "stuck?"
nanami's eyes meet yours, his smirk undeniably playful. "Seems like fate has its own plans for us," he remarks, his tone holding a hint of amusement.
you roll your eyes, unable to suppress a small smile despite the circumstances. "great, just what I needed today."
he chuckles, his fingers expertly unbuttoning his cuffs as he begins to roll up his sleeves. "well, at least we have some time to ourselves. might as well make the most of it."
your eyebrows raise at his nonchalant attitude, your surprise momentarily replacing the irritation. "are you serious right now? we're stuck in an elevator, and you're acting like it's a casual evening at home?"
nanami's grin widens, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "why not? it's not like we can do much about the situation. might as well enjoy each other's company."
you huff out a breath, torn between annoyance and amusement. as you observe him making himself comfortable on the elevator floor, you can't help but shake your head. "you're unbelievable."
he pats the spot next to him, his inviting gesture a silent challenge. "come on, it's not so bad. we can reminisce about old times, or argue about who's the better cook."
you find yourself hesitating, the absurdity of the situation sinking in. with a resigned sigh, you take a seat beside him, your shoulder brushing against his. "old times, huh? you mean the days when you used to bring me breakfast in bed?"
nanami's smile softens, a nostalgic gleam in his eyes. "yeah, and you'd always complain that the eggs were overcooked."
“because they always were.” you retort, with a chuckle. you missed this, being in his space without any of the extra noise.
“i can cook breakfast for you again,” he proposes, “if you just come home.”
“kento i don’t know if i-”
“do you remember our first date,” he interrupts, “my car broke down on the way home from the restaurant, so i put you on my back and carried you for 5 miles.”
“you carried my heels too,” you add, laughing softly to yourself at the memory. your first date with nanami solidified that he was the man for you, the way he shamelessly gave you a piggy back ride, heels and all.
nanami’s gaze locks with yours, his fingers gently grazing your hand “it was worth every step.”
a warmth spreads through your chest, a mix of nostalgia and a newfound vulnerability. "you used to be so sweet," you murmur, your voice laced with a bittersweet longing.
his fingers inch closer, your hands almost brushing against each other. "i can still be sweet, you know," he replies softly, his gaze never leaving yours.
your heart skips a beat, the air around you growing charged with unspoken emotions. "you have a funny way of showing it."
he tilts his head, his lips curving into a genuine smile. "maybe I've been out of practice."
as the silence settles between you, the confined space of the elevator seems to amplify the intensity of your connection. the past rushes back, the moments that you shared, the love that once flourished. but you're both here now, in the present, faced with the choice of whether to rebuild or let go.
nanami's fingers finally find yours, his touch sending a jolt of electricity through your veins. "i want to make it right, to fix us," he admits, vulnerability lacing his words.
you meet his gaze, the weight of his confession hanging in the air. "It's not that simple, kento. we can't just go back to the way things were."
his thumb traces a soothing pattern on the back of your hand. "i know. but maybe we can start anew. rediscover each other, learn from our mistakes." 
you study his face, the sincerity in his eyes making your heart ache. maybe he had changed, maybe he was willing to put in the effort to mend what was broken. maybe, just maybe, there was hope for your relationship after all.
the elevator's walls seem to fade away, leaving only the two of you in this suspended moment. The past and the present merge, and as you search his eyes for any signs of deceit, you find none. only a genuine desire to make things right.
"i've missed you," he whispers, his voice holding a vulnerability that resonates within you.
“you swallow the lump in your throat, your grip on his hand tightening. "i've missed you too."
nanami's fingers burned with a mixture of yearning and desperation as they reached out to trace the curve of your cheek. his touch was electric, sending a surge of heat through your veins. your breath hitched in response, your heart pounding against your ribs as his thumb brushed over your skin.
his touch was no longer tentative; it was a declaration, a silent proclamation of his desire. the air seemed to crackle with tension as his gaze bore into yours, his eyes dark and smouldering.
"i've wanted to do this for so long," he confesses, his voice a low growl sending a shiver down your spine.
his fingers slide from your cheek to your jawline, his touch igniting a fire within you. the space between you seemed to vanish as he closed in, his lips hovering just a breath away from yours. your eyes flutter closed as his thumb brushes over your lower lip, his touch setting your skin ablaze.
and then, his lips crash onto yours with a fierce hunger that leaves you breathless. it was a kiss that ignites a wildfire, a blaze of emotions that had been suppressed for far too long. his lips moved against yours with a fervour that matched the intensity of his touch, a dance of passion and longing.
his arms encircle you, pulling you flush against him as the kiss deepens. his mouth moves over yours with a possessive urgency, his tongue seeking entrance and igniting a fiery tangle of sensations. the taste of him was intoxicating, a heady mixture of desire and nostalgia.
your fingers claw at the fabric of his shirt, needing to feel him, to ground yourself in this moment. his body presses against yours, every contour and ridge igniting a cascade of sensations that pooled between your thighs.
his hands trail down your back, the touch leaving trails of fire in its wake. when he cups your hips and pulls you impossibly closer, a moan escaped your lips, swallowed by the intensity of the kiss.
as the kiss broke, your foreheads rest against each other, your breaths ragged and laboured. the air around you was thick with desire, the space between you charged with an unspoken promise.
"i need you," he murmurs against your lips, his voice laced with desperation.
your fingers tangle in his hair, pulling his head down for another searing kiss. It was a kiss that spoke of pent-up longing, of a love that refused to be extinguished. your bodies moulded together as if they were meant to fit perfectly, every touch a symphony of need and surrender.
“tell me you need me, love,” he gasps out, and you nod against him, “no i got to hear you say it.”
“i need you, i do,” you whimper against his lips, as his fingers slip below the waistline of your skirt, gently grazing your clit, “k-kento we can’t, have you forgotten where we are?”
“don’t tell me you’ve become shy whilst we’ve been separated,” he chuckles, smirking as he continues to toy with your pussy “you don’t remember all the times i’d have you bent over my desk in my office?” 
you bite your lip at the memory, feeling yourself get wetter as nanami’s fingers enter you, his thumb pressing against your clit. nanami knew you inside and out, he knew how exactly where to touch, how to get you whine and writhe against him as you are now.
he took advantage of your exposed neck, biting and sucking against your collarbone as he continues to stroke your cunt. you were gushing over him, repeatedly clenching against his fingers, as he twists and pushes in and out of you. 
“you always get so wet for me,” he praises, pulling his fingers out of you, his digits glistening coated with you. you can smell your own arousal from his hand as he grabs your chin, forcing you to stare at his lust filled eyes. “ride me.”
you didn’t need to be asked twice, you discard your skirt off on the elevator floor, as he unzips his pants. he strokes his dick as it gets harder just at the sight of you. he was back was against the wall, his legs sprawled out widely, the perfect opening for you to climb right into his lap.
you slid right onto him, letting out an exhale as he fills you. he presses a sloppy kiss against your lips as your cunt grips onto him. your hands dig into his shoulder as you bounce up and down on him, his hands having your hips in a firm hold to keep you in place.
nanami couldn’t keep his eyes off of you, the way you were taking him in like you needed him, was a sight he could never get tired off. you were so pretty, all fucked out on his dick, your eyes glossed over in a daze, the only thing you were focused on was him. 
“d’you see now why i could never let you go?” he teases, thrusting upwards into you as one of his hands trails up to caress your cheek, his thumb parting your lips, “because this pussy’s mine.” 
he quickens his pace, eager to get you to come undone all over him, the way your movements became slower, lazier, he could tell you were nearly at your peak. you bite on his thumb, suppressing your moans, as his merciless thrust begin to become too much. 
“m’close kento, i-it’s too much,” 
“I know my love, you’re taking me so well,” he praises, pushing deeper into you, “just hold out for a bit longer.”
“i-i can’t i-” you couldn’t finish your sentence as you feel yourself release all over him. nanami groans out his head collapsing in your cleavage as he finishes inside of you, your juices mixing with his. 
the only sounds that can be heard are you both trying to catch your breath. nanami keeps his head pressed against your tits, still inside of you. you toy with his hair pushing his hair back to leave a gentle kiss against his head, his arms tighten around you and it was as if you could feel him smile against you. you knew from then that you and your husband was going to be okay.
“kento?” your voice wavers, a mixture of uncertainty and hope lacing your words.
“yes? my love,” he responds, his gaze locked onto yours.
your heart flutters as you gather your courage, the weight of the past and the possibilities of the future intertwining in your chest. "I think we can cancel that meeting with my lawyer."
nanami's smile broadens, but it's different this time – it's a smile that carries the weight of understanding and a newfound determination. he holds your gaze, and you can see the sincerity in his eyes, a silent promise of change and rediscovery.
you eventually got out of that elevator and you didn’t go home to your separate apartments, you went home, together. 
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extra an: so guys what did you think?? first time writing for smut, and for nanami so if it’s shit spare me. but I love him and I’d never divorce him. DIVIDERS FROM @/CAFEKITSUNE !!
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amu-says-hav-says · 9 months
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I can’t believe I went through all of Season 2 assuming Nina was the stand-in for Crowley when you actually pay attention it’s so CLEAR that she’s Aziraphale. I was tricked by her spiky, sarcastic, cynical outer shell and lulled into a false sense of security by Maggie’s bubbly optimism and wholesome goodness, because on the surface they reflect the ineffable husbands perfectly, in their personalities, their aesthetics, even many of their actions and morals. but not, and this is the real key, when it comes to their “relationship”. but those first impressions really had me damn fooled. 
I missed the blatantness of Nina’s “we’re just friends. actually we’re not friends. we barely know each other.” the same thing Aziraphale said in season 1.  the way he still struggles to quantify their friendship when Nina asks. Nina’s sarcasm when Crowley asks about rain and awnings because it worked for him (we all know it LMAO). hell, that whole convo the girls have in the rain is so AziraCrow (“I know. I’m not your type” “...You have no idea” hits so much harder the second time, help meeeee.) “Lindsay” maybe being symbolic of Heaven and Aziraphale’s toxic relationship with them and their abuse? (the handwritten text messages in red pen make me think of angry notes on paperwork, anyone else?) because Crowley has never actually cared about what Hell thinks of him, just not getting into trouble (or him or Aziraphale getting hurt). Maggie is always chasing Nina. NINA NEVER GOES IN THE RECORD STORE. Just like Crowley always goes to the bookstore, to Aziraphale, Zira NEVER WENT TO THE FLAT (apart from The Swap but that doesn’t count imo). Crowley has always chased Zira, not the other way around. Always there to rescue him, always going to him for company, always relying on their shared connection, always US. OUR SIDE. All through season one, he comes to Zira every time to work together, never trying to work alongside Hell in any way that isn’t to save their skins or Earth, while Zira hides things from Crowley because he STILL thinks Heaven is ultimately good and will do the right thing if he can just show them. fix it from the inside. 
Maggie working up the courage to finally say something, to put herself out there, while Nina is utterly oblivious and then when she does realise Maggie has feelings, becoming standoffish, putting up that barrier, fighting it, denying it, ITS SO CROWLEY AND AZIRAPHALE IN THAT ORDER. the way I was fooled into thinking Nina’s trust issues are Crowley because he does have trust issues ofc he does BUT Crowley has ALWAYS TRUSTED AZIRAPHALE. has always relied on him. has always been hurt when Aziraphale doesn’t immediately reciprocate the way he expects (the holy water request, the bandstand, the “off in the stars” etc). he’s always the one putting himself forward. Aziraphale has always been the one to second guess everything, to fight their connection, their similarities, their friendship. the girls really made me think it was going to be okay when they sat Crowley down, even as my inner sirens were going haywire about Metatron interfering, they were telling Crowley he just needs to open up and it’ll all work out BUT HE’S ALREADY AT THAT POINT. he may not say it, and by gosh is that part of their damn problem, but he’s always SHOWN IT. he’s not Nina who needs time to heal and recover from her broken trust, he’s always been Maggie believing it doesn’t matter, they’ll end up together in the end anyway AND I WALKED RIGHT INTO THE TRAP THAT THIS MEANT THEY WERE GOING TO BE OKAYYYYYYYYYYY
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sttoru · 3 months
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.⌇ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. pussy slapping hcs w the jjk men (gojo, geto, nanami, toji, sukuna) + small drabbles attached.
⋆ tags. dom!character x female reader (separate). smut. pwp. pussy slapping. dirty talk. further warnings before each small drabble. based on an anon request; sorry, tumblr fucked up ⋆ wc. 1.1k total
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𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔
likes to see the facial expressions you make, so he always has you on your back when he does it.
is always teasingly slow. never rushes the process—even if you beg him to satisfy you properly.
the wet sounds your sopping cunt makes, is what he does it for. the view is something he finds rather endearing as well.
tags. mocking. edging. nicknames used; ‘sweetheart,’
“mph! ‘toru, please. . .” your legs shake with each slap to your cunt. satoru’s grinning from ear to ear, enjoying every little noise you make as his palm pats your pussy lightly. he’s going so slow—trying to get on your nerves by not allowing you to cum just yet.
“‘toru, please’,” satoru repeats your words in a high-pitched tone. he giggles at his own tease before planting a sweet kiss on the side of your chest, glazed over eyes still looking down at your cunt. your juices are coating his slender fingers and it takes every ounce of his strength to not lick them off. to taste the sweetness.
the slow slaps and the time interval between them drove you to insanity. the pleasure comes and goes—it’s torturous. satoru pouts as you pout, mirroring your actions with a shit-eating grin, “patience, sweetheart. just a few more, i promise. i’ll fuck you reaaal good afterwards.”
𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐎 𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐔
does it when you least expect it, because that man loves to catch you off guard.
he can be gentle or rough about it—depends on his mood. if he’s in a good mood, the little slaps are meant to stimulate your clit for your own satisfaction. if he’s in a shit mood, the firm slaps are meant as punishment.
tags. p in v. doggy style. condescending tones. nicknames used ‘princess’.
“what now, princess?” suguru murmurs right into your ear. his chest is pressed against your back, one hand slithering down your waist to your hip and between your legs. you’re whining, unlike before, when you had the audacity to hold back your moans and act like you didn’t like what he was doing.
“where’d that attitude go, hm?” suguru grunts, clicking his tongue. you’re bratty today, but he has the solution to fix that. he pulls his hard cock out of your pulsating cunt and leaves you empty. the tips of his fingers glide over your labia instead. you try to grind back against his digits, though was met by a harsh slap instead.
your body jolts at the unexpected slap. not a moment goes by and a second one hits your pussy lips firmly. your moans are muffled by the pillow you’re biting into.
suguru sees you struggle to keep your moans to yourself and chuckles deeply. his jaw clenches and his hand lands harshly on your puffy cunt once more, “keep that attitude up and i’m not stopping until you’re screaming for mercy.”
𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐈 𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐎
does it gently, but is so so nasty about it. wouldn’t be surprised if you came just from him slapping your cunt a couple times.
loves to do it when you have your panties still on. that way he can see your wetness through the fabric.
tags. praise. semi-public/exhibitionism kinda. reader wears skirt. nicknames used ‘love, angel’.
“now now, love,” kento kisses the side of your neck gently, urging you to stay still. your back is against his chest and your legs are spread with your skirt flipped up. it’s an embarrassing situation—especially because you’re in his office with your lace panties on display.
the wet spot on the fabric only grows bigger and bigger with each gentle tap of your lover’s palm. kento’s slaps are painfully soft. he knows that it’s agonising for you, but it’s a complete turn-on for him, “you’re doing so well. getting so wet and ready for my cock, mm?”
your eyes roll back from the combination of dirty talk and praise. kento chuckles, his deep voice rumbling in his chest. his fingers come in contact with your clothed clit and it makes you squirm. each little slap made you needier. the sorcerer drags his fingers up and down your pussy before slapping it again through your panties;
“if you stay still for me, i promise i’ll give you what you want, okay, angel? for me?”
𝐅𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐎 𝐓𝐎𝐉𝐈
is pretty harsh when doing it. might use his cock to do so too sometimes.
loves to do it when he’s eating you out—gives a couple slaps in between, here and there. right on your clit too.
tags. cunnilingus. degradation. reader gets called ‘little girl’.
“nasty fuckin’ pussy. look at her,” toji scoffs once he pulls his mouth away from your messy cunt. he’s been lapping up your juices for a couple minutes now, the clear fluid smeared all around his lips.
the tip of his tongue drags up and down your slit—tracing circles around your clit. your hands grab onto toji’s black hair, gaining a deep grunt from him. he lifts his hand and slaps your pussy in response, “hands to yrself, little girl.”
you want to comply, but the extra stimulation your body got from that slap only urges you to grip his hair tighter. toji curses under his breath, removes his head from between your thighs and makes it seem like he’s finally going to fuck you—his leaking tip suddenly placed right at your entrance.
well, you guessed wrong. toji’s veiny hand wraps around the base of his cock, only to slap it down on your sensitive clit. you moan at the contact and he answers by doing it again, “hah. thought i was gonna fuck you? nah, ‘m not doing any of that until ya know y’r place.”
𝐑𝐘𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐍 𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐔𝐍𝐀
makes it nasty by spitting on your cunt before slapping it. loves to see the mess the fluids form on your pussy lips.
has you counting the slaps probably too. if you lose count or get it wrong, he’s starting over.
does it again and again until you’re in absolute tears.
tags. true form!sukuna. over-protectiveness. mention of murder. dacryphilia. spit. reader gets called ‘brat’
“what’d i tell you about hanging around with that lowlife?” sukuna grumbles, clearly pissed off. he spits on your cunt that laid open before him. he’d ordered you to wait for him on his bed with your legs spread while he took care of some ‘business’. which was killing that man who dared to speak with you.
“fuckin’ brat. you never listen,” sukuna continues. two of his hands hold your thighs in place, another one rubs his spit all over your aching pussy. he delivers a firm slap to your cunt once it’s coated in his saliva. you whine and whimper, but the king of curses could not care less.
you know what you should do; accept and count the amount of slaps. you do exactly that, though the harsh slaps are too overstimulating for your poor pussy, causing you to sob. sukuna’s eyes have a dangerous and sadistic look in them—clearly enjoying your tears and suffering.
the sounds of your wet flesh getting slapped repeatedly echoes throughout the room. your tears, whines and bodily reactions drive sukuna absolutely insane. he breathes heavily and stops the slaps, “on all fours. now. i’m not repeating myself.”
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Listening to a bad lyricist repeatedly struggle with getting through a single lyric for like ten minutes last night reminded me how difficult songwriting is.
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lemonlover1110 · 2 months
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𝐃𝐀𝐃𝐃𝐘 𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐔𝐄𝐒
Toji Fushiguro
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Pairing: Toji Fushiguro x f!Reader
Summary: Toji's girlfriend can be a brat but he punishes her for it (he forgets about the punishing halfway through)
Warnings: Smut, Age Gap (Reader in 20s, Toji 40s), Daddy Kink, Praising, Degrading, Face Fucking, Titjob, Spitting, Cum Eating, Double Penetration, Sex Toys, Vaginal Sex, Anal Sex, Spanking, Creampie
*This is a repost LMAO here's the original one (I'm the author to both so don't come into my inbox bc you didn't look) anyway. I did tell my readers I would repost certain works for a reason❤️
Discord +18 - Twitter - Ko-Fi
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Toji simply adores when his girlfriend misbehaves. He acts as if he doesn’t and acts embarrassed when she’s suddenly a brat in front of all of his friends, but of course he won’t praise her for it. He punishes her for it, and God, does he love punishing her for it.
“You need to learn how to watch your mouth.” Toji tells you, nearly ripping the dress off you. You act clueless, batting your eyelashes as the very expensive dress is thrown somewhere else in the room. You take a seat on the edge of the bed as his hand goes under your chin and he tilts your head up. He doesn’t know what he wants to do with you. Or he does know, yet he doesn’t know how to start.
One hand begins to unbuckle his belt while the other squeezes your face. He looks into your eyes, you’re trying to look innocent but he can read right through it. He takes off the belt and ends up tossing it to the side before his hand unbutton his pants. “What will I do with you?”
He stops squeezing your face and takes off his pants along with his boxers. His hand goes to his cock and he strokes it slowly, deciding what he’ll do first. Before he orders, “Open your mouth, nice and wide for me.”
You shake your head until Toji furrows his eyebrows. He orders it once again, much meaner, “I told you to open your fucking mouth.”
You end up opening your mouth, and he pushes your head on his cock. Every inch that you can take of his cock goes into your mouth. You’re gagging, not being able to take it all. Drool falls down from your mouth to your chin, tears welling up in your eyes. You love it.
And you love it even more when he begins to move his hips, his hands gripping your hair. You look up at him with the eyes he loves to watch. He can tell that you’re loving this. You’re such a brat on purpose so he ends up doing this. “I hate how such a filthy mouth feels so good.”
He’s groaning, shutting his eyes as he lets himself loose. Your mouth feels so perfect around him, and the sound of your gagging is like music to his ears.
He looks down at you, seeing the tears stream down your face. It brings him satisfaction, and he knows that you’re satisfied as well. Otherwise you wouldn’t have been such a brat in front of his friends. They already criticize him for dating a woman nearly twenty years younger than him, it doesn’t get better when you act like such a brat. 
His balls slap against your chin with his every move. His hips get faster as his release gets closer and closer. Watching as you struggle and hearing your gagging encourages him to go faster. It’s such a turn on for him– Everything you do is such a turn on for him.
“I love your fucking mouth. So fucking good.” He tells you, his thrusts getting sloppy. With a few more thrusts, his cum hits the back of your throat. He finally pulls your head back, and you gasp. The mascara is running down your face, and he finds you more beautiful than ever. Even with some cum and drool falling from your lips.
“What am I going to do with you now?” Toji questions as you reach behind and unhook your bra. He’s still hard.
“Whatever you want, daddy.” You answer, standing up. He gets an idea as you take off your bra. He takes a seat on the bed, and his hands go to your back and he pulls you closer to him. His hands go to your breasts, his mouth wrapping around one of your nipples while his hand plays with the other.
“Fuck me with your tits.” He says when he pulls away. You smile at him before getting on your knees. Your hand wraps around his cock and you spit on it a couple of times before you bring your breasts together and put his cock in the middle.
“Is this what you want, daddy?” You ask him, a smug look on your face. You begin to move your breasts, and Toji bites down on his lip so he isn’t louder than he has to be. He watches your pretty little face, and he holds back from giving you that satisfaction of hearing his moans. He let them out while fucking your mouth, but then he was doing all the work, you just had your mouth open. 
“What a good slut.” He ends up praising, feeling your cleavage move up and down his cock. He grabs a fistful of your hair and pulls your head back. You stop moving your breasts for a moment while Toji orders, “Open your mouth.”
You open your mouth and stick your tongue out, allowing him to spit in your mouth. When he’s done what he wanted, he lets go of your hair and you go back to moving your breasts. Toji now lets himself moan into the air while you ask, “You like it, daddy?”
“You’re doing such a good job.” He praises. Your head goes down, your tongue licking the tip of his cock. He’s going to come at any moment. He’s moaning, getting louder and louder with each movement of your cleavage and tongue. “Make me come like a good girl.”
“Gonna make you come, daddy.” Your tongue stops licking his cock, and you look back at him. He looks at your pretty little face, your makeup all ruined because of him and he smirks. He has to close his eyes, yet another release overtaking him.
“Fuck–” He groans, releasing his seed all over your tits. You smile at him, as his cum coats your tits. One finger drags on his cum and you bring it up to your lips. You begin to spread the cum on your nipples. You stand up and your head goes down while you bring your tits up to your lips, licking his cum off.
He watches you lick his cum off your nipples and he swears he could burst all over again. He sits quietly for a moment before he stands up. He unbuttons his shirt and ends up taking it off.
“Get on the bed.” He orders and you do as he says. You sit down on the bed while Toji goes to your nightstand. He opens the first drawer and he pulls out what he needs before walking back to you. “On your stomach, ass in the air.”
You take off your panties before getting on all fours on the bed. You arch your back and wait for Toji to do something with the dildo he pulled out of your nightstand. He pours cold lube on your ass and then on the toy.
“You want me to stick this toy up your ass, baby? Will you take it like a good girl?” He questions, smacking your ass cheek with the toy he holds.
“Yes, daddy.” You respond, making Toji smack your ass with the toy again. He teases your asshole with the dildo for a bit before he begins to push it in. A gasp leaves your lips as the toy fills up your ass. Toji chuckles at your reaction, still pushing it in until he can’t push it in more.
His hand begins to move the toy, and you begin to moan in pleasure. It always takes you a moment to adjust, but you fucking love getting your ass fucked. The toy feels nice, but you like it more when it’s Toji is the one inside of you. 
“You like that, baby?” He asks and you hum in response. The moans that leave your lips are more than a good enough answer. He’s still going to ask. 
He smacks your ass while he moves the toy faster, “It’s so good, daddy.”
“Oh yeah, baby? How would you like me to put my dick in your pussy too?” He questions, one hand reaching to grab one of your hands to bring it back, “Fuck your ass, baby. Be a good girl and fuck your ass.”
You begin to move the toy, much slower than he was, while the tip of his cock runs through your folds. He pushes his cock into your cunt, and he doesn’t waste any time. Every inch is pushed into your cunt and he begins to rapidly move. One thing about you that he loves is that you never complain.
“What a good girl. Taking it all with no problem.” He praises you. He’s hissing at the feeling of your cunt wrapped around him, and the sigh of you fucking yourself in the ass certainly adds to the pleasure. His eyes are practically rolling to the back of his head as he moves in and out of you.
“Your tight little pussy is so good, fucking love it.” He smacks your ass again. He wishes he could look at your face while you’re taking it all. Your eyes are probably rolling to the back of your head as he fucks you and that toy moves in and out of you.
One hand goes to your hip while the other grabs your toy and he begins to move it in and out of you again. You feel so good with Toji and the toy. You feel your orgasm approach as both his cock and the toy hit all the right spots. You’re moaning his name uncontrollably as you feel your climax approach.
He’s moaning as he feels your cunt tighten around him. The sound of skin smacking and your moans that get louder and louder are very preeminent in the room. “I’m gonna come, Toji.”
“Come all over my cock like a good girl.” Toji says. You loudly moan his name, your body spasming as you come on his cock. He takes the toy out of your ass and both his hands go to your hips, gripping hard enough to leave bruises. He’s chasing after his third release for the night. “Taking it like a good girl, so proud of you.”
Now he’s the one moaning your name, in disbelief at how good your cunt is making him feel. God, everything about you is just so perfect. He comes to a stop and his cum fills you up. He doesn’t pull out until he makes sure every drop is in your cunt.
When he pulls out he warns, “Next time I won’t be so nice.”
“Sorry, daddy.”
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lundenloves · 7 months
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dad!simon masterlist | taglist | masterlist | request info
dad!simon who will near fall asleep on the sofa, sat upright with wide legs and his arms crossed, only opening one eye to pretend he’s listening while one of his daughters rambles about school drama.
dad!simon who scoffs when another monthly subscription or amazon payment goes through his card, brows knitted together after asking just why the house has to be subscribed to four separate streaming services.
dad!simon who never remembers his kids’ friends names. it could be his daughters best friend of seven years and he still wouldn’t remember.
dad!simon who visually could not care less about the gossip his daughter waffles about, mumbling “mhm” every so often to appear engaged though shrugging when called out on his evident boredom.
dad!simon who tsks at all the parcels that come through the door day-to-day. living with three daughters and a wife, it’s constant. he detests being the only one home and having to sign for something — will actively ignore a knock on the door when there’s other people in the house.
dad!simon who (when drunk) is the height of amusement for his eldest. many snapchats exist of him being handed the phone already recording and goofily grinning into it while looking up at her “what am i supposed to be looking at?”
dad!simon who sticks post-it notes in bold handwriting to the fridge whenever anyone has an appointment due the following day. “don’t forget.” complete with a fullstop and a harsh underline of the time in military digits.
dad!simon who replies sarcastically to almost every obvious question with his natural glare, something each of his kids had genetically taken: “don’t ask stupid questions and you won’t get stupid answers.” he loves them really.
dad!simon who silenced the family groupchat as soon as he had figured out how to, only replying every other day with a thumbs up reaction or more likely a thumbs down.
dad!simon who side eyes his kids. he doesn’t mean it, yet it happens. watching throw away tv? side eye. talking too loud on the phone? side eye. wearing a questionable outfit? side eye.
dad!simon who has a firm routine. he fucking detests being interrupted, and or spoken to from the hours of five till seven in the morning. he’ll get up, have food and go to the gym all in this time frame before anyone can dent his peace.
dad!simon who sighs avidly. a long and painful sigh after any merely simple question is asked or he’s to pick up one of his kids from a night out. “fucking well told ‘er not to expect me past twelve.” while accidentally slamming the door behind him, keys jingling around his finger.
dad!simon who struggles to show affection in any other way than a short pat of the shoulder or a one armed hug, pulling his kids into his chest for mere seconds before stepping back.
dad!simon who groans whenever anything gets moved in the house. his military mind in favour of keeping things in one position, untouched and moved for preferably ever unless he was told. though, having kids didn’t quite work like that.
dad!simon who: “do i ‘av to do fucking everything in this house? eh?”
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simon ‘ghost’ riley taglist: @vamppxncess @crowbird @tallrock35 @fluffmonster @islanderr @blueoorchid @lea3773 @coldflapjack @rayhawk05 @han11dh @liishook @melovetitties @fallonx @rvjaa @fuckmelifesucks @bhayatsara @takeomisbitch @local-spidey @konigsblog @penutjuice @babychoi03 @sheluvzeren @sparklingtragedy @maviee @wiserebelpartypie @daddylorianisastateofmind @bhayatsara @mistydeyes @writingmysanity @johfaam0 @idkbbyx3 @gressseyy @fwibblefwobble @shibble @maladaptivedaydreamingbum @airghostlyfox @hotgirlsshareaccounts @simpxinnie @dilfdotgov @cliosunshine @bloobewy @lazybutsmexy @maki-z @yyiikes @tieflingteatime @cosmoscoffeee @lilvampirina @cinnabeanz @bubbyblob
˗ˏˋ university is still kicking my arse into next week. i joined the football team too, fuck knows why i’m making myself busier than i have to be. alas here we are, and i’m feeding the pigeons! aka sprinkling dad headcannons until i get traction again. pls love me, pls follow me, pls reblog, pls validate me.
the reason i tag this as ‘x reader’ as it’s ur fuckin family with him. no one bite my head off man i can’t be bothered tonight.
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earthtooz · 3 months
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in which: a moment of impulsivity has ratio knocking on your door at 3 am with a grand confession.
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There is a great cloud of curiosity that surrounds Dr. Ratio.
His intelligence is far beyond the average person’s comprehension, mind working at insurmountable speeds to reach conclusions and answers that no others have come to before. Mediocrity and Ratio could never stand to be in the same room, intelligence and reputation as an academic preceding him.
When people find out that you have been in a long-term relationship with the scholar, you can almost see the question mark above their heads. How did you meet? When did you start dating? How did you start dating? How do you put up with him? (You always answer that with ‘I’m still trying to find out myself’. He always rolls his eyes when you say that, but it’s nothing a kiss to the cheek can’t solve.) 
Only your closest friends know the story of how you started dating, but it’s always one you love recounting, much to the dismay of Veritas. 
For the decades that he has lived for, there have been few moments he regrets, always critically scrutinising every move six steps before he makes them. No one has ever seen him messy, uncertain, or dishevelled- except you. 
Towards the end of your university years, with an urgent final assignment due soon, you’re rudely awoken one night by frantic knocks on your dorm’s door. You notice the clock reads 3 am, and since the knocks only got louder by the second, you throw your covers off with a groan.
Who could be at your door at 3 am? Perhaps a drunk dormmate who forgot their keys? Or someone knocking thinking it was their room?
Looking through the peephole, you’re stunned to see a certain violet-haired friend on the other side, trouble etched deeply into his features. His hair was messy, falling haphazardly around his face, and his usual accessory of a laurel wreath was discarded, flamboyant outfit discarded for something more comfortable. 
It’s clear that he’s troubled by something, but you have half a mind to leave him outside until he goes away (that’s what he’d do to you, or so you think).
Opening the door, you begin by scolding him. “You better have a good reason to show up at this godforsaken time or otherwise-”
“-I’m in love with you.” 
Perhaps if it were a normal hour of the day, and if you hadn’t just been rudely awaken from your sleep, you would have processed his words faster. Instead, you blink at him once, twice, three times, fatigue weighing heavily on your features as you struggled to keep your eyes open. 
“What?” You murmur, shaking your head as if that would clear up the mental blockage.
“I’m in love with you,” he repeats, firmer this time. 
You grab his wrist and drag him inside your dorm, blinded by the harshness of the hallway lights illuminating the outline of his figure. Turning on the softer light on your desk, you take a seat on the edge of your bed, gazing down at your hands. Veritas, however, stays near your door, annoyingly muscular arms flexed over his chest.
“I have so many questions,” you grumble, rubbing your eyes. “Why are you awake? You’re always asleep by 11 to get your ass up at 6 to exercise, or whatever.” 
“Are you avoiding the main point, or just stupid?” He grabs you by the shoulders and shakes. “I love you.” 
“Excuse me! You were banging bullets on my dorm room, I’m disorientated right now, not stupid- what?”
It’s almost like his statement from earlier only pierces through your brain now with the way you freeze, eyes morphing into something akin to disbelief and shock. He sees all the changes in your expression in the dimness of the room, nervously biting his cheek with every subtle shift.
“Did… I hear that right?” You whisper after what feels like an eternity. “You love me?”
He nods. “For a few years now.” 
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Am I not doing so in this very moment?” 
Tonight has been nothing but agitating for him. First, he was kept awake by the pounding of his heart and the burning desire to see you, significantly delaying his sleep until Veritas decided to cast all caution into the wind, running to your dorm all the way on the other side of the University. Now, he is trying to pour his heart onto your hands, all because of a moment of impulsivity and bull-headed stubbornness, and a secret he cannot keep to himself any longer.
He may be stubborn (as are all geniuses), but Veritas is never impulsive. All truths will come to light eventually, no matter how hard he tries to hide them. 
“While I accept that my feelings may not be reciprocated, can you at least say something rather than stare at me blankly?” There’s an unfamiliar look of concern in his eyes, contrasting the usual pride and arrogance he always wears.
What happened to the Veritas Ratio you know? Who is this man by your feet?
“No- that’s not. I… I love you too, I have for a while now, but everything about this is… just… unbelievable.”
“Why?” 
“You’re aeons out of my league, Veritas. I never once considered you would return my feelings.”
He stifles back a laugh, dropping his large hands off your shoulders and clutching the mattress on either side of you. You won’t forget about the way the sheets crumple beneath his grip, or the way his head hangs, bangs tickling your legs.
Bravely, you raise a hand to his hair, running through it. Seemed like he could use the comfort.
“You make me too damn nervous,” he breathes, a hand coming to clutch at his chest. 
“Never thought I’d live to see the day you admit you get nervous.” 
“Why’s that?”
“The only thing bigger than your brain is your ego.”
His confession, and everything about that night, was unorthodox, never predicting that you’d end the day curled up next to Veritas, or the long relationship that would follow.
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© EARTHTOOZ 2024, do not steal, translate, repost my fics and do not recommend my fics onto any other site.
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ywuji · 1 month
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yuuji doesn’t think he buys you things often, but your bed full of stuffed animals says otherwise. (f!reader, plushie humping and them watching u fuuuuck)
often times when he goes out with friends or on missions, yuuji will come back with little trinkets or toys he thought you would like.
he doesn’t listen when you tell him you have nowhere to put them—when he gifts them to you, he’ll just smile his giddiest smile, hoping you’ll forget about that for a moment.
it's funny because he’ll come over to your tiny uni room down the hall from his own, see his gifts taking up the majority of your space that you’re meant to have, and he’ll still have a mind to think of other things he could get you!!
‘the more the merrier!’ is the sentiment of all of his lighthearted protests when you bring it up in conversation—and he’s genuine with that—but there’s also something else.
something about those times when either you or him are away and you’re missing each other, him telling you to call him—voice or video, ‘whichever you prefer, cutie’—and the conversation ending up in him talking you through straddling his favourite stuffie of the day and grinding your sweet little wet cunnie on it.
"does he feel good, sweetie? …yeah. y'sound so pretty... mhmm, sound so good, my love. keep going, baby."
"nonono, you’re doing great, honey. i know you’re tired, but it’ll be over soon, yeah? just a little more and you can cum… yeeaahh that’s it, princess, doing so well f’me."
"f-fuck… l-look so cute, baby… can you see? ’m leaking so much. …mhm, ‘s all you, pretty girl, ‘s all f’you."
or the other times, when he spends the night at yours, and you touch and you kiss, and the next thing you know is that you’re pushed into the bed, surrounded by your dear stuffies, whining and mewling as yuuji hungrily looms over you, pumping his thick cock into your wet, messy heat.
“yuuji..! a-ah! ‘s too much, ji—ah!” you whimper, voice struggling to come out of your throat every time he pushes into you. he knew from your previous three orgasms he gave that you're reaching your limit, and he’d pull away if he knew you wanted him to, but the way you’re grasping at his toned back, his beautiful neck, and his tousled hair, pulling him closer, deeper into you—he knows you can take it.
“pussy so fuckin’ good, princess… l-love it so much—f-fuck! s-so good for me, baby,” he caresses your precious head, brushing hair out your face and staring right into your eyes as he pushes himself in further into you. the waft of his breath heating your cheeks as he praises you, “suckin’ me in s-so—fuck—tight…“
“‘m close, ji! s-so good! ohmygod…!” you grip onto him impossibly tight, fingers digging into his thick, muscular shoulders.
“h-haah—y-yeah? me t-too... where can i cum, baby?” he pants, his whimpers that you love so much becoming louder.
“inside! insideinside! please inside! pleaseplease—please!” you choke out. you don’t have to wait a moment longer before he’s pounding into you like your lives depend on it, fat cock drilling you at an angle, stretching you out and hitting all those right spots only he can reach.
“c-cumming…! ‘m cu—!“ his lips crash into yours, swallowing your sweet sounds as you cum and cream around his cock, legs wrapping tightly around him feeling ropes of his thick, hot cum spurting into you as you both shake and tremble from your orgasms.
he lowers the rest of his body onto you, being careful not to crush you. his face burying itself in the crook of your neck, whispering little praises and tender words of affection. ‘love you so so much, baby’, ‘did so well for me, pretty’, ‘look so beautiful when you cum’. with his sweaty front now pressed to yours, he lays still. warming his cock inside your cunt to let the both of you ride out your blissful highs.
his head comes up to look into your dazed eyes as you gently cup his hot cheeks. he smiles and chuckles breathily, littering quick kisses from your lips to your chest, licking and sucking cheekily at your nipples, leaving a few lovebites on your breasts.
moving to sit up on his knees, he looks down at where the two of you connect, softly rocking his hips and moving circles over your sensitive clit, watching the sticky white ring of your mixed orgasms coat his cock with each slow thrust.
you whine and hold out shaky fingertips to his hips. he grins, pulling his cock out painstakingly slow, watching his cum leak out of you, collecting it up with his fat cockhead, and pushing it back into you with one last gentle thurst.
“yuuji...” you mewl out with a small pout on your face.
“yeah, honey?” he looks at you with wide eyes and flushed cheeks.
“...they were watching the whole time.” you point to the little crowd of plushies who are all faced towards you, an odd feeling washing over you as you realise your shared stuffed ‘children’ witnessed the two of making love right in front of their plastic eyes.
he shrugs nonchalantly, a tired smile on his face “it’s not that bad.” he teases.
“wha-?! what do you mean…?!”
“they’ll just learn a few things,” he smiles playfully at your puzzled expression. “y’know? like how to be in love and… how it feels to know someone truly.” he nods his head and purses his lips as if he's just said something deep.
“you’re so stupid.”
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Company that makes millions spying on students will get to sue a whistleblower
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Yesterday, the Court of Appeal for British Columbia handed down a jaw-droppingly stupid and terrible decision, rejecting the whistleblower Ian Linkletter’s claim that he was engaged in legitimate criticism when he linked to freely available materials from the ed-tech surveillance company Proctorio:
https://www.bccourts.ca/jdb-txt/ca/23/01/2023BCCA0160.htm
If you’d like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here’s a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:
https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/20/links-arent-performances/#free-ian-linkletter
It’s been a minute since Linkletter’s case arose, so I’ll give you a little recap here. Proctorio is a massive, wildly profitable ed-tech company that sells a surveillance tool to monitor students while they take high-stakes tests from home. The tool monitors the student’s computer and the student’s face, especially their eye-movements. It also allows instructors and other personnel to watch the students and even take control of their computer. This is called “remote invigilation.”
This is ghastly in just about every way. For starters, Proctorio’s facial monitoring software embeds the usual racist problems with machine-learning stuff, and struggles to recognize Black and brown faces. Black children sitting exams under Proctorio’s gimlet eye have reported that the only way to satisfy Proctorio’s digital phrenology system is to work with multiple high-powered lights shining directly in their faces.
A Proctorio session typically begins with a student being forced to pan a webcam around their test-taking room. During lockdown, this meant that students who shared a room — for example, with a parent who worked night-shifts — would have to invade their family’s privacy, and might be disqualified because they couldn’t afford a place large enough to have private room in which to take their tests.
Proctorio’s tools also punish students for engaging in normal test-taking activity. Do you stare off into space when you’re trying through a problem? Bzzzt. Do you read questions aloud to yourself under your breath when you’re trying to understand their meanings? Bzzzt. Do you have IBS and need to go to the toilet? Bzzzt. The canon of remote invigilation horror stories is filled with accounts of students being forced to defecate themselves, or vomit down their shirts without turning their heads (because looking away is an automatically flagged offense).
The tragedy is that all of this is in service to the pedagogically bankrupt practice of high-stakes testing. Few pedagogists believe that the kind of exam that Proctorio seeks to recreate in students’ homes has real assessment merit. As the old saying goes, “Tests measure your ability to take tests.” But Proctorio doesn’t even measure your ability to take a test — it measures your ability to take a test with three bright lights shining directly on your face. Or while you are covered in your own feces and vomit. While you stare rigidly at a screen. While your tired mother who just worked 16 hours in a covid ward stands outside the door to your apartment.
The lockdown could have been an opportunity to improve educational assessment. There is a rich panoply of techniques that educators can adopt that deliver a far better picture of students’ learning, and work well for remote as well as in-person education. Instead, companies like Proctorio made vast fortunes, most of it from publicly funded institutions, by encouraging a worse-than-useless, discriminatory practice:
https://pluralistic.net/2021/06/24/proctor-ology/#miseducation
Proctorio clearly knows that its racket is brittle. Like any disaster profiteer, Proctorio will struggle to survive after the crisis passes and we awaken from our collective nightmare and ask ourselves why we were stampeded into using its terrible products. The company went to war against its critics.
In 2020, Proctorio CEO Mike Olsen doxed a child who complained about his company’s software in a Reddit forum:
https://pluralistic.net/2020/07/01/bossware/#moral-exemplar
In 2021, the reviews for Proctorio’s Chrome plugin all mysteriously vanished. Needless to say, these reviews — from students forced to use Proctorio’s spyware — were brutal:
https://pluralistic.net/2021/09/04/hypervigilance/#radical-transparency
Proctorio claims that it protects “educational integrity,” but its actions suggest a company far more concerned about the integrity of its own profits:
https://pluralistic.net/2022/02/16/unauthorized-paper/#cheating-anticheat
One of the critics that Proctorio attacked is Ian Linkletter. In 2020, Linkletter was a Learning Technology Specialist at UBC’s Faculty of Education. His job was to assess and support ed-tech tools, including Proctorio. In the course of that work, Linkletter reviewed Proctorio’s training material for educators, which are a bonanza of mask-off materials that are palpably contemptuous of students, who are presumed to be cheaters.
At the time, a debate over remote invigilation tools was raging through Canadian education circles, with students, teachers and parents fiercely arguing the merits and downsides of making surveillance the linchpin of assessment. Linkletter waded into this debate, tweeting a series of sharp criticisms of Proctorio. In these tweets, Linkletter linked to Proctorio’s unlisted, but publicly available, Youtube videos.
A note of explanation: Youtube videos can be flagged as “unlisted,” which means they don’t show up in searches. They can also be flagged as “private,” which means you have to be on a list of authorized users to see them. Proctorio made its training videos unlisted, but they weren’t private — they were visible to anyone who had a link to them.
Proctorio sued Linkletter for this. They argued that he had breached a duty of confidentiality, and that linking to these videos was a copyright violation:
https://pluralistic.net/2020/10/17/proctorio-v-linkletter/#proctorio
This is a classic SLAPP — a “strategic litigation against public participation.” That’s when a deep-pocketed, thin-skinned bully, like Proctorio, uses the threat of a long court battle to force their critics into silence. They know they can’t win their case, but that’s not the victory they’re seeking. They don’t want to win the case, they want to win the argument, by silencing a critic who would otherwise be bankrupted by legal fees.
Getting SLAPPed is no fun. I’ve been there. Just this year, a billionaire financier tried to force me into silence by threatening me with a lawsuit. Thankfully, Ken “Popehat” White was on the case, and he reminded this billionaire’s counsel that California has a strong anti-SLAPP law, and if Ken had to defend me in court, he could get a fortune in fees from the bully after he prevailed:
https://twitter.com/doctorow/status/1531684572479377409
British Columbia also has an anti-SLAPP law, but unlike California’s anti-SLAPP, the law is relatively new and untested. Still, Proctorio’s suit against Linkletter was such an obvious SLAPP that for many of us, it seemed likely that Linkletter would be able to defend himself from this American bully and its attempt to use Canada’s courts to silence a Canadian educator.
For Linkletter to use BC’s anti-SLAPP law, he would have to prove that he was weighing in on a matter of public interest, and that Proctorio’s copyright and confidentiality claims were nonsense, unlikely to prevail on their merits. If he could do that, he’d be able to get the case thrown out, without having to go through a lengthy, brutally expensive trial.
Incredibly, though, the lower court found against Linkletter. Naturally, Linkletter appealed. His “factotum” is a crystal clear document that sets out the serious errors of law and fact the lower court made:
https://drive.google.com/file/d/1aB1ztWDFr3MU6BsAMt6rWXOiXJ8sT3MY/view
But yesterday, the Court of Appeal upheld the lower court, repeating all of these gross errors and finding for Proctorio:
https://www.bccourts.ca/jdb-txt/ca/23/01/2023BCCA0160.htm
This judgment is grotesque. It makes a mockery of BC’s anti-SLAPP statute, to say nothing of Canadian copyright and confidentiality law. For starters, it finds that publishing a link can be a “performance” of a copyrighted work, which meant that when Linkletter linked to the world-viewable Youtube files that Proctorio had posted, he infringed on copyright.
This is a perverse, even surreal take on copyright. The court rejects Linkletter’s argument that even Youtube’s terms of service warned Proctorio that publishing world-viewable material on its site constituted permission for people to link to and watch that material.
But what about “fair dealing” (similar to fair use)? Linkletter argued that linking to a video that shows that Proctorio’s assurances to parents and students about its products’ benign nature were contradicted by the way it talked to educators was fair dealing. Fair dealing is a broad suite of limitations and exceptions to copyright for the purposes of commentary, criticism, study, satire, etc.
So even if linking is a copyright infringement (ugh, seriously?!), surely it’s fair dealing in this case. Proctorio was selling millions of dollars in software to public institutions, inflicting it on kids whose parents weren’t getting the whole story. Linkletter used Proctorio’s own words to rebut its assurances. What could be more fair dealing than that?
Not so fast, the appeals panel says: they say that Linkletter could have made his case just as well without linking to Proctorio’s materials. This is…bad. I mean, it’s also wrong, but it’s very bad, too. It’s wrong because an argument about what a company intends necessarily has to draw upon the company’s own statements. It’s absurd to say that Linkletter’s point would have been made equally well if he said “I disbelieve Proctorio’s public assurances because I’ve seen seekrit documents” as it was when he was able to link to those documents so that people could see them for themselves.
But it’s bad because it rips the heart out of the fair dealing exception for criticism. Publishing a link to a copyrighted work is the most minimal way to quote from it in a debate — Linkletter literally didn’t reproduce a single word, not a single letter, from Proctorio’s copyrighted works. If the court says, “Sure, you can quote from a work to criticize it, but only so much as you need to make your argument,” and then says, “But also, simply referencing a work without quoting it at all is taking too much,” then what reasonable person would ever try to rely on a fair dealing exemption for criticism?
Then there’s the confidentiality claim: in his submissions to the lower court and the appeals court, Linkletter pointed out that the “confidential” materials he’d linked to were available in many places online, and could be easily located with a Google search. Proctorio had uploaded these “confidential” materials to many sites — without flagging them as “unlisted” or “private.”
What’s more, the videos that Linkletter linked to were in found a “Help Center” that didn’t even have a terms-of-service condition that required confidentiality. How on Earth can materials that are publicly available all over the web be “confidential?”
Here, the court takes yet another bizarre turn in logic. They find that because a member of the public would have to “gather” the videos from “many sources,” that the collection of links was confidential, even if none of the links in the collection were confidential. Again, this is both wrong and bad.
Every investigator, every journalist, every critic, starts by looking in different places for information that can be combined to paint a coherent picture of what’s going on. This is the heart of “open source intelligence,” combing different sources for data points that shed light on one another.
The idea that “gathering” public information can breach confidentiality strikes directly at all investigative activity. Every day, every newspaper and news broadcast in Canada engages in this conduct. The appeals court has put them all in jeopardy with this terrible finding.
Finally, there’s the question of Proctorio’s security. Proctorio argued that by publishing links to its educator materials, Linkletter weakened the security of its products. That is, they claim that if students know how the invigilation tool works, it stops working. This is the very definition of “security through obscurity,” and it’s a practice that every serious infosec professional rejects. If Proctorio is telling the truth when it says that describing how its products work makes them stop working, then they make bad products that no one should pay money for.
The court absolutely flubs this one, too, accepting the claim of security through obscurity at face value. That’s a finding that flies in the face of all security research.
So what happens now? Well, Linkletter has lost his SLAPP claim, so nominally the case can proceed. Linkletter could appeal his case to Canada’s Supreme Court (about 7% of Supreme Court appeals of BC appeals court judgments get heard). Or Proctorio could drop the case. Or it could go to a full trial, where these outlandish ideas about copyright, confidentiality and information security would get a thorough — and blisteringly expensive — examination.
In Linkletter’s statement, he remains defiant and unwilling to give in to bullying, but says he’ll have to “carefully consider” his next step. That’s fair enough: there’s a lot on the line here:
https://linkletter.opened.ca/stand-against-proctorios-slapp-update-30/
Linkletter answers his supporters’ questions about how they can help with some excellent advice: “What I ask is for you to do what you can to protect students. Academic surveillance technology companies would like nothing more but for us all to shut up. Don’t let them silence you. Don’t let anyone or anything take away your human right to freedom of expression.”
Today (Apr 21), I’m speaking in Chicago at the Stigler Center’s Antitrust and Competition Conference. This weekend (Apr 22/23), I’m at the LA Times Festival of Books.
[Image ID: A girl working on a laptop. Her mouth has been taped shut. Glaring out of the laptop screen is the hostile red eye of HAL9000 from '2001: A Space Odyssey.' Behind them is a tattered, filthy, burned Canadian flag.]
Image: Ingo Bernhardt https://www.flickr.com/photos/spree2010/4930763550/
CC BY 2.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/
Cryteria (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:HAL9000.svg
CC BY 3.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0/deed.en
Eleanor Vladinsky (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Canadian_flag_against_grey_sky.jpg
CC BY 4.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0/deed.en
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hazelfoureyes · 2 months
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for your consideration:
a reader who’s genuinely more powerful than Alastor is. maybe they’re royalty or another overlord or maybe they simply just have a more commanding presence than him, but in any way, he hates it. he goes out of his way to try to one-up them (much like how he did with Lucifer), but the reader never falters, ever-calm and ever-in control. it infuriates Alastor to no end— not only because of the simple fact that he isn’t the strongest person in the room anymore, but also because the reader never treats him like he’s lesser than them. they treat him like an equal, and it makes him even angrier.
when they fuck for the first time, it’s a last-ditch attempt for Alastor to regain control— and it fails, because even though Alastor is on top with his nails digging into the reader’s skin, doing his very best to cause the pain he knows he can cause, the reader still just stares up at him, taking it like they always do. no tears fall from their eyes, no pleads fall from their lips. Alastor is dissatisfied— very much so. so they do it again. and again. and again, until it’s something of a game between them. until one day, the reader’s composure finally shatters.
they’ve had enough of Alastor’s attitude and disrespect, and they tell him as much. they pin him down, snarling about his god complex and his twisted sadism and how long they’ve been waiting to put him in his place. and Alastor finds that no matter how much he struggles, he can’t get that control that had been so rudely snatched from him back. but the thing is— a part of him likes it. really, really likes it— that loss of power that should be his and his alone, being held just out of his petulant reach. it brings him a sick feeling that he’s never felt before and can’t get enough of.
that part grows and grows until he’s the one crying and begging and squirming weakly underneath the reader, both his smile and his mind threatening to break as the reader fucks him relentlessly. no matter how many times either of them cums, the reader doesn’t stop, not until Alastor is screaming his apologies, over and over and over again. he hates it. he loves it.
when it’s all over, and when the reader has settled, Alastor makes them promise that they will never speak of this again. without a hint of smugness, the reader agrees— but maybe the next time Alastor is acting up, the reader will only have to give him a look. and he will know.
I know this wasn’t a prompt necessarily but don’t think you can come into MY HOUSE and lay a feast in front of me and not expect I’d dig in 👏 face 👏 first 👏 so here’s me just kinda riffing off your DELICIOUSLY WRITTEN MESSAGE. NO TIME TO EDIT A CUTE REPLY IMAGE
Wrapped around Your Finger (Ace Alastor bottoms for a GN!Seraphim Reader short smut)
Warnings/Promises: 🗣️ ALASTOR GETS FINGERED, Gender Neutral Reader x Alastor smut, hate fucking, bondage, initial dubcon, Ace Alastor, scratching, kinda degradation kink, Angel Reader, Reader is a good friend, Protect Angel Dust at all costs
minors dni
⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ⊹ ꙳ ⁺ ‧ ⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . * ꙳ ✦ ⊹⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ⊹ ꙳ ⁺ ‧ ⨯. ⁺ When Lucifer introduced a defected Seraphim to the hotel, Alastor’s smile dropped. You had feet yet to him you seemed to glide through the hotel halls effortlessly. You were impeccably dressed, ever polite, well mannered, clean. It was driving him mad. Yes, Alastor knew the importance of being well groomed. He exalted manners and gentility. He disliked grime and thought a lack of personal hygiene was an actual sin. But the sight of you, every fucking day with that ever present soft smile on your lips? Your gaze, always gentle as you listened to sinners explain their dreams of redemption. Nails on a chalkboard. Every room you were in, all eyes turned to you. It was if the air itself was pulled into your charms.
Every one in the hotel either feared Alastor or, at least, failed to hide their annoyance when He’d sneak up on them or touch them without warning. Of course, not you. Alastor shocked himself with his antics in attempt to make you react to him at all. Charlie would pull him aside weekly, asking what the actual fuck? “Why did you say that? They know they aren’t from here, we all know that, but telling them they are most unnatural creature to ever exist in Hell? And I don’t think it was an accident you knocked their drink over. Al, you are being a bully.” Yes, and he was sorry. Sorry he was so ineffective. Not even a fucking knitted brow so much as flashed at him when he spilled your drink down your chest. You smiled, you had the audacity to smile at him and say, “Whoops. Your monocle isn’t prescription, huh?” He only had one option left to push you beneath him—-rip you to pieces. Any thing to get you to look at him differently than all the other weak souls mulling about in hell.
Alastor had seen you fight, when an overlord came to the hotel to taste seraphim blood, all of the Pride Ring saw your power. Arms out stretched, a glow came from your palms, yellow and bright. With the speed of someone enjoying a breakfast on the patio on a Sunday in hell, you knelt down and pressed your palms into the ground. A flash of light and power rung out from you and blinded everyone watching, but Alastor could see you as he melted into the deepest shadows your light created. White and gold glowing shards erupted from the dirt, fracturing the grounds of the hotel lawn as they formed a jagged but intelligent line straight for the demon. The overlord barely recovered from the blinding effect of your power before a glass-like piece shot from the ground and straight through his chest. It was over in seconds, and you had never dropped your soft grin.
He was prideful, but not stupid. A test, a little experiment first. When you watched sweetly from the sidelines and Charlie directed yet another meaningless activity, Alastor stood opposite you. Your eyes flitted from person to person, your smile small but genuine. Were you glowing? He had had enough. He reached his shadow appendages out and wrapped one around your ankle, as it gripped and prepared to drag you to the floor in what he hoped would be an embarrassing display, nothing happened. As the tentacle touched you, it dissipated. Your light entirely erasing the shadow.
He felt his mind breaking. Every night he paced, feeling your overwhelming presence in the hotel even at such a distance. He decided to try the one thing he’d never tried. Atleast, not since coming to hell. You were always so accommodating, maybe to a fault? He found you in kitchen, alone, making yourself some sickeningly sweet drink. Your body froze when Alastor pressed against you from behind. But, you didn’t make a sound. “Apologies, I don’t think I can suffer any longer.” He ground his hips into your ass, “I never do this, a gentleman through and through. But you see, as a deer demon, sometimes there are periods of—- unbearable discomfort. I can’t focus on redemption like this.”
Alastor was shocked when you swiveled around, eyes closed from your smile, and said, “I came here to help. What can I do?”
He couldn’t understand it. Bent over the counter in the common area, his nails cutting lines down your sides that healed with a frustrating speed, you just sighed into him. Little moans, soft exhales. He slammed your hips against him, the sound ringing through the kitchen. But still, your eyes were closed but not clenched. Your sounds small and even. The only thing keeping him hard was your hand, reached back and digging nails into his thighs. The tiniest hint of your true feelings. He’d bury his mind where your hand tore his skin and find release. Happy to see you at least a little less perfectly assembled after.
Alastor would find you at the most inconvenient times, in the most public settings, and find some excuse to need to fuck you. At one point a sinner even walked in on you two, and to Alastor’s palpable dismay, you apologized to the sinner for blocking the ice machine.
Your resolve finally snapped, however, when Alastor stepped past a line he didn’t know you had. Alastor had you, uncharacteristically, in your bed. He always spoke during sex but now, now it was genuinely grating you. “You’re such a whore, coming to Hell just to eat demon cock. If you drowned in cum you’d probably respawn as an even bigger slut than Angel Dust.” You sat up, one hand on his chest and the other under his armpit, and flipped him onto his back. Alastor’s arm moved to push back, but he found both wrists held down to the bed with a signature glow.
“If you knew Angel half as well as you pretended, you’d know how fucking stupid you sound.” Your hands gathered his cum from earlier that evening, slowly dripping out of you with the sudden change in position. “He’s the whore? Who stalks this hotel, hungry for any ounce of attention? A petulant child willing to embarrass others just so teacher notices them?” Your hand began to pump his cock. Alastor thrashed, he hated people handling his dick, but that was overshadowed by his disgust of having his semen spread over his skin. The sensation made his skin crawl and he would have gone soft but when he met your gaze he only grew harder in your fist. Your eyes were alight, figuratively and literally. The rage on your face made his smile drop entirely. You looked like you hated him. “If he is a whore, then you are Mary Magdalene. I’ll wash your feet for you, sinner.” You used your knees to spread open his untethered legs.
“I know you, Alastor,” the fingers of your other hand slicked through the lathered cum dripping down his ass and began to massage at his hole. “Your greatest sin wasn’t murder. It was pride. Never could let anyone see the famous Radio star with even a hair out of place. You’d drop your morals for even a taste of an improved social image. Even in death, you abuse and hound others who dare to make you feel less than how you demand you look from the outside.” He wanted to say anything, argue, roar, but his jaw was locked in place. Your eyes never left his, and soon his vision was darkening around your luminescent stare. A finger slipped into him, slowly but with resistance.
“Tell me to stop.” Your hand slowed to let his muscles relax around your digit before picking up speed again, curving your palm over his head with every pull upward, “Tell me to stop and I will. I’ll go right back to who I always am, and always will be. I’ll smile at you every morning and move out of your way with a nod in the halls. Say ‘stop’.” Your words were threats, not idle or hollow and it made Alastor’s thighs twitch. Go back? Return to looking at him like you truly wanted the best for him despite how dirty his hands were? Soft eyes threatening to make him melt into a lesser, weaker man?
You were in him to the knuckle, finger prodding and twirling.
His eyes were wide but focused on you. Alastor thought his soul would evaporate, your face a sneer he’d never been so lucky to even imagine before now. He could feel you around him, in him.
A tiny, halted, “S-,” was forced through his teeth.
Stop?
Slower?
He shook his head, eyes fluttering closed.
“God, you’re pathetic. What about a sorry? Can you manage a single apology for your comments tonight? I’ll let you roll me back into the mattress, for a sincere ‘sorry’.” Alastor's knees hitched, his head fell back, and he came over your knuckles with a pained groan. But you didn’t stop. You’d get your reply, eventually.
Alastor gave a threat of his own when you finally got your apology, half screamed through his third orgasm, and let him flee your bed. You nodded and agreed, yes yes, this never happened blah blah yet another example of your enormous pride.
After that night, any time Alastor wanted to yank on Husk’s chains, or double speak someone into a deal, he’d pause and look around. Expecting your two golden lit eyes to be staring, ready to flip him onto his back and drag several more apologies from him.
༻Masterlist༺
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bumblebeesfromvenus · 2 months
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Here are some German specific quirks I think König would have <3
─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ────── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───
(yes, I know he's Austrian, but the difference is really only that they talk funny and have better desserts)
♡ he HATES fans and air conditioning. Like I'm talking disdain from the deepest pits of hell kinda hate.
Ceiling fans and AC are not a thing here, and literally every German looks at it with a very disapproving look if there happens to be one somewhere.
König absolutely refuses to sleep with the fan or AC on, just open a window, Liebling!
He's so upset that he can't put the window "auf kipp" :( (pls Google it, it's so hard to explain lol) like he's crushed that he can't keep the windows "auf kipp" all day.
You have a ceiling fan? Nope, not anymore. That thing is getting taken down the minute you move in together. But if you insist on keeping it, he'll secretly cut the cable to the switch.
Everyone knows all they do is whirl around dust and make you sick! He's not having it.
König acts like artificial ventilation is his worst enemy (I agree with him) and he'd rather suffocate than turn on the goddamn AC.
♡ Sundays are strictly lazy/rest days. Nothing's open on Sundays here, so we're forced to relax and not run around like headless chickens trying to get things done.
He's absolutely baffled if you have plans to go somewhere on a Sunday. What do you mean you need to run errands? What do you mean you're going out? And if you want him to come along?? Yeah, no.
His brain stops working. After the many years he's been alive, not once has he gone somewhere on a Sunday that wasn't his Oma's house for Kaffee und Kuchen.
You're not going anywhere. Plans are canceled, and you better spend the day on the couch with him.
♡ König probably misses all the beautiful old architecture Vienna has to offer. You don't quite appreciate it as much when it's just there all the time, but now he wishes he could quietly people watch in the city center :(
In my mind he's a bit of a history nerd, so he probably frequented museums and castles, admiring the delicately sculpted ceilings and wondering how people lived back then.
He'd be most fascinated by the masonry work done on the outside of most buildings. I mean, that's stone, but it's so smooth and carefully crafted.
♡ there are some very weird sayings in German that you just can't translate because they don't make sense. König is sick of having to awkwardly try to explain what they mean after he's been caught muttering one under his breath, only to realize halfway through that he looks like a maniac.
German is a very literal language, and I think he misses speaking it. We have very specific words for some things and he probably struggles to talk in English sometimes purely because the words he wants to use just don't exist.
(I'm very upset they didn't give him an Austrian accent bc it's one of my favorites, but I can also confidently say that I think he wouldn't be taken seriously at all if he had one lmao)
♡ König goes on random ass walks sometimes. Where's he going? On a walk. No, like where is he going? HE'S GOING ON A WALK.
There's no destination, you just walk. No matter the weather. Ya walk until you feel like you've walked enough. (A very German experience and I hate it)
♡ dreams of his Oma's Kaiserschmarn (me too, König, me too.)
It's basically a giant pancake that you tear into little pieces (traditionally, it has raisins too, I think) and you eat with either cinnamon sugar or applesauce (or both) and you will drift up to heaven.
It's warm, it's fluffy, it's sweet;
It's perfect for a gloomy Friday afternoon spent with his Oma and Opa 🥺
(Can you tell that I'm projecting)
─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ────── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───
"Auf kipp" is a very specific window position where only the bottom two hinges stay attached so you can tilt the window towards you and a little crack is open so you can always have fresh air!
"Oma und Opa" grandma and grandpa, which he loves so much, undoubtedly.
"Kaffe und Kuchen" basically tea time. You get together and eat cake and have coffee! Mostly on the weekends :)
"Kaiserschmarn" what dreams are made of.
🩷
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It's a Match! || 141 x reader
[ Chapter 5 ] || [ Chapter 7 ]
Pairing: Price x gn!Reader || 141 x gn!Reader Words: 1.4K~ cw: firing guns, i guess (but John's teaching you). Summary: While overcoming recent heartbreak, you decide to join Tinder in search of a rebound. Your friends advise to just Swipe Right indiscriminately... What happens when 4 soldiers from the same squad match with you?
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Chapter 6: John.
You crossed the entrance to the small pub, head held high, in your most honest attempt at feigning confidence.
After you had accepted, jokingly, to meet with this ‘Captain John’, only as an opportunity to roast the three men behind the account some more, Kyle had reached out to you, through John’s account, saying he also accepted and wanted to meet you today, Friday night, at 8 P.M.
You almost backed out. 
Keyword, almost.
Because when you went to your groupchat to ask for support from them, your girlfriends encouraged you.
You almost set a Siri reminder to get better friends.
Either way, you have to admit that it feels… better to meet up John. Your heart is still a bit sore, the wound of heartbreak still struggling to swell closed… 
Meeting with Simon or Kyle or Johnny would’ve meant rehashing it. You couldn’t risk getting attached to them after a night of casual sex. But there’s no expectations here… John is older than you, than them. This is just drinks, according to Kyle. He had insisted, in fact, that it be just drinks.
It felt more comforting to know you weren’t expected to go home with him at the end… Even though he’s handsome enough that you wouldn’t exactly refuse had your heart not been in its current state.
So, here you are. You keep his Tinder profile open on your phone, like it has been since you left the house, trying to memorize his features so that when you spot him, you recognize him instantly.
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In a way, this feels like a blind date… And it’s strangely exciting.
You spot him from the door the moment your eyes scan the room. He’s at a table in the far corner, his back against the wall, taking up a bar stool. You stop by the bar before making your way over, getting yourself a drink.
You’re not sure if he’s spotted you, if he knows who you are. So you take the time to get a proper look at him that isn’t through a grainy picture on your phone.
He’s about as wide as he is tall and his forearms are covered in hair (“built like a bear”, check.). He’s got a tumbler of ambar liquid in front of him, you can infer it’s whiskey (“likes Whiskey”, check.). His beard is a bit thicker than in the pictures you were sent, and he looks knackered, his eyes surrounded by heavy dark circles.
He sits with his back straight, however his head hangs low and he keeps looking around through his eyebrows like he’s suspicious of everyone. His legs are spread, heels hooked on the footrest of the stool, the jeans he wears clinging tight to his strong thighs. His hands hang limply between them. He’s wearing a maroon button-up atop a white crewneck t-shirt, the sleeves rolled up to show a black watch on his left wrist.
In short, he’s handsome. And does not look his age.
Stopping in front of the table, you offer him a smile. “John?” You ask, as if you don’t already know it’s you.
He seems to finally notice you, and his harsh face softens with a smile that scrunches his nose.
“Hi. How are you?” He asks politely as he pulls back the stool on his right side for you. You take the seat, squirming a bit as you look for a good position.
“Can’t complain. You alright?” You return and you catch how he looks at you, up and down, his head hanging low, as he glances at you.
“What are you drinking?” He asks.
“Oh, just… a Sprite.” You answer as you keep glancing at him.
He goes quiet and nods, looking away for a moment, giving you every indication that he’s not interested in being here.
“I get it, you know.” You say after a beat of long, strenuous silence.
John’s blue eyes immediately flitter over to you, eyebrows raised in confusion.
“Get what?” He asks with a mix of confusion and disdain in him.
“Being forced to go out… Meet someone.” You explain as you sip your Sprite through the black straw the bartender gave you.
“Oh, really?” He retorts as he leans his left elbow on the round table and swivels to look over at you.
“Oh, yeah.” You say with a nod. “Recovering from a break-up.” You tell him. “My friends put me up to the whole… dating app-get laid thing. So, I get it. It’s… awkward.” You add. 
“Hm.” He says with a nod and presses his lips together a bit, as if conceding to you.
“We don’t have to make this a whole thing, if you don’t want to.” You tell him and smile a bit. “I can leave, if you’d like. Or you can.” You offer, noticing how his eyes soften a little. 
“No… it’s alright…” He tells you. His eyes slip away from you and he looks down at his lap, blinking a little. He seems… a bit lost in thought. He goes quiet again.
“Okay, then.” You say simply. “I just figured you needed a distraction, you know… Your lads were complaining about you being stressed…” You add, your eyes stuck on him, to try and spot his reaction.
He curls his fists closed and then uncurls them, running his clammy palms over his jeans for a moment. Then, he inhales sharply before slapping his hands on his thighs and turning to you swiftly.
“You ever shot a gun before?” He asks you, causing your brows to raise in surprise.
“No?” You answer, watching as he downs the rest of his whiskey and jumps down from his stool.
“C’mon. I’m teaching you.” He demands as he contours the table and helps you down, guiding you back out of the pub.
-
“Bend your arms about 10 degrees at the elbows.” John tells you from behind you, his big rough hands adjusting your shape with tender but determined touches.
John’s driven you to a firing club’s range just outside of London. You’ve been at this for an hour now and it’s… surprisingly fun.
You’ve yet to land a proper shot, your arms always shaking a little out of aim… But you’ve landed them in the target, which is more than you thought you were going to succeed.
“How the fuck do you handle this every day? This damn rifle is heavy, my arms hurt and we’ve only been practicing for an hour!” You tell him after firing another shot that did not land. 
“Lots of practice, love.” He replies, his tone amused. He stepped up behind you, once more fixing your stance, giving little taps to your hip with one of his large hands to force you to stiffen.
John’s been trying not to snicker every time you fire. At first it was because you were flinching, but now it’s because your aim is that bad. But you don’t mind the mockery. He’s got a smile on his face, his smile lines and nose all crinkled.
“Go on, again.” He demands as he helps adjust you, his breath brushing against your ear, the warmth of his torso against your back, and his eyes above the rifle, to try and see if you’re in target. He makes some last second adjustments and then you fire.
This time it was a bull’s eye. “THERE WE GO!” You cheer for yourself and shimmy your shoulders a little while holding the rifle steady. This time, John doesn’t contain himself, and fully laughs. Deep and rich, right next to your ear, making you shiver a bit, your skin covered in goosebumps.
“Good job.” He praises you and gived you another little tap on your hip, this time, sort of catching the side of your ass. Your eyes widen a bit in surprise and you bite your lip before looking up at him.
“You’ve had enough yet?” He asks you with a cocked brow as you lower the rifle into a safe handle, pointing down and to the side. 
“Depends.” You find yourself saying as he takes the rifle from you to return at the rental counter.
“On what, love?” He asks you, eyes locked on yours as you turn to face him fully. He seems to be in a much better mood.
“Me having enough of shooting…” You trail off. “Will that end the night? Are you going to drop me off at home?” You ask him.
His eyebrows raise for a bit, but then they lower and his eyes narrow as a ghost of a smirk tugs at the corner of his lips. “Oh no, I’m taking you home, but not dropping you off. I’m spending the night with you.” He assures you.
Then, he walks off out to the armory counter, as if he hasn’t just said that.
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Text
Affectionate- M. Sturniolo
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pairing: TouchStarved!Reader x Affectionate!Boyfriend!Matt
classification: SFW & NSFW head cannons
inspiration: request, thank you @sugrhigh for helping me figure this out luv u shnookums
warnings: some 18+ content, use of y/n, established relationship, slight cursing
summary: head cannons of Matt being affectionate with his touch starved girlfriend!
☆SFW
Affection and PDA isn’t something that comes naturally to you. When you and Matt first started dating, you would keep your distance, but eventually you grew used to it.
☆ When you and Matt first started dating you struggled with any and every form of physical intimacy.
☆ You’re mindlessly flicking through clothes racks at the mall. “Opinions?” Matt asks, holding a shirt in front of your face and slinging an arm over your shoulder.
☆ Subconsciously, you shrug his arm off your shoulder. “That’s cute! I like that,” you reply, scooting further away from Matt.
☆ “Okay, weirdo,” he laughs, but deep down it hurt every time you shied away from him. He tried not to look too into it, but it seemed like you were always avoiding his touch.
☆ “I’ll be back, babe. I’m gonna take Chris to the store,” Matt informs you as he throws his wallet and phone into his pocket.
☆ “Okay, have fun,” you reply simply. Matt stands in front of you fully expecting a quick kiss or even a hug, but you return to your previous activity.
☆ He leaves feeling sad, but still doesn’t bring it up.
☆ It goes on like this for a while, and Matt tries his best to see past it.
☆ You’re currently at an influencer event. The venue is crowded, loud, and overstimulating, forcing you to remain at Matt’s side for the entire night.
☆ He introduces you to a few of his friends, “Hey guys, this is my girlfriend Y/n.” His arms wrap around your waist, immediately causing your body to stiffen.
☆ “Hi,” you say meekly. Matt pulls you in closer, resting his head on your shoulder and peppering your face with kisses.
☆ When you keep leaning away from him, he stops and lets go of you completely. It bothers him enough for him to bring it up once you’re home.
☆ “Y/n, can we talk?” he asks, leaning on the restroom doorframe as you wash your face. You hum in response.
☆ Matt takes a deep breath, preparing to ask the question he’s been dreading the answer to. “Are you embarrassed of me?“
☆ It catches you off guard, “What? No! Why would you even ask that?”
☆ He rolls his eyes, “Because you never let me hug or kiss you.” No response from you, you don’t even know what to say.
☆ The conversation starts innocently but quickly becomes an argument. Matt keeps pushing the subject no matter how hard you try to avoid it, asking you questions you don’t know how to answer.
☆ “it’s not my fault you’re clingy!” you exclaim, throwing exasperated hands in the air. Matt nods his head slowly as his lips form a tight lipped smile.
☆ He doesn’t say anything else, instead leaving to your shared bedroom before he says something he’ll regret.
☆ You immediately wish you could take the words back. “Matt?” your voice is quiet as you enter the room, slowly crawling over to his figure on the bed.
☆ His back is to you. You snake an arm around his waist and apologize for everything you said.
☆ “Do you actually think I’m clingy?” he asks, looking at you over his shoulder. “No, I’m sorry. I struggle with the whole PDA thing, but I’m gonna try and work through it okay?”
☆ From that moment forward, you’re much more conscious of your actions.
☆ Matt will hug you, kiss you, or hold your hand in public and you no longer pull away.
☆ Instead you’re pulling him in for a longer kiss than he intended. And eventually you’re the one who initiates the PDA.
☆ You and Matt are sat on a picnic blanket, watching as the sun begins to set. “My back hurts,” he mumbles, shifting uncomfortably in his spot.
☆ You mindlessly scoot closer to him, pulling his body in until it’s resting against your chest.
☆ He gives you a surprised look, “Literally who are you and WHAT did you do to my girlfriend?”
☆ “Shush,” you chuckle, placing soft kisses all over his face.
☆ Other times, you’ll just seek his touch when you’re alone.
☆ “What’s taking so long?” you ask. Matt’s been stirring the pasta for what seems like forever.
☆ “It’s almost done, you goof,” he laughs. You groan, resting your head on his back and wrapping your arms around his waist.
☆ “You smell good,” you murmur, earning a dopey smile from him.
☆ NSFW
The lack of affection can be attributed to a lot of things, and Matt knows that, but it doesn’t make it hurt any less. Sometimes, he can only think of one way to teach you a lesson.
☆ “What the fuck was that?” Matt grits, referring to the scene you caused in front of his friends. All he wanted to do was kiss you, but you dodged the kiss so aggressively that it was embarrassing.
☆ “Here we go again,” you say. “I’m not doing this right now, Matt,” you turn on your heels, ready to escape the conversation.
☆ “You are doing this right now actually.” He grabs you by your elbow, pulling you into him abruptly.
☆ “You think it’s cute to embarrass me in front of my friends like that?” his voice is low, his breath fanning against your neck with each word. You’re slightly intimidated, but mostly aroused.
☆ He holds a firm grip on your neck, bringing you in for a hungry kiss.
☆ Before you know it, he’s fucking you in front of the bathroom mirror. “Look at how fucked out I have you,” he growls, “remember this next time you wanna act stupid.”
☆ Other times, he’s just so extremely touch starved.
☆ Matt trails kisses from your jaw down to your collarbone, kisses that you’re trying to avoid.
☆ “I’m busy, Matt,” you whisper, but with each kiss your breath becomes choppier.
☆ “But I need you,” he whines, pressing his erection into your lower back.
☆ “Later,” you try and reason, but he’s not listening.
☆ That’s what leads to you riding him on the couch until he’s so overstimulated his eyes tear up.
☆ “I can’t—,” he whimpers. “You can,” your voice is firm. “You begged for this, baby. Don’t you remember?”
☆ He clenches his eyes shut, fists bawled at his side. His teeth bite so deep into his lip that he draws blood, orgasming for the 5th time.
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A/n: you stumped me with this rec anon lolol had to pull out the reinforcements ( @sugrhigh )
- L.A.M.B👼🏻💗
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tootiecakes234 · 3 months
Text
I just know you would receive “gifts” from Katsuki all the time. They’d be little things to make your life easier that you didn’t even know you needed.
You like to read at night to unwind, but sometimes it’ll be a really good book so you want to stay up reading it. The thing is you don’t wanna bother Katsuki cuz you know he has a strict bedtime. This means often times you’ll stay a little longer in the living room reading as to not bother him.
One night you’re getting ready for bed when you see a box next to your bed.
“Hey Kat, is this yours?”, you say loud enough for him to hear you in the bathroom.
He peaks his head out the door and says, “No, I ordered it for you.” And then goes back to what he was doing.
You sit on the edge of the bed and open it up. It’s a reading light with a dampener so you can adjust the brightness.
He comes dragging his little slippered feet towards his side of the bed.
“Now you can keep your ass in bed. Tired of waking up and you being asleep on the couch. I’m an old man, I can’t keep carrying you to bed.”
You look at him with a bright smile on your face.
“You know you can just say, you like me being in the bed with you while you’re sleeping. You know, because I’m your big bad protector and I make you feel safe.”
“There is no talking to you sometimes you know that?”
It’s winter time and you always have your gloves on because you HATE your fingers being cold. The only problem is of course you have to remove said gloves to use your phone when you’re out and that SUCKS.
You’re out with him one day and you’ve been texting back and forth with Mina because her and her girlfriend are in an argument and she of course comes to you about it.
You are always there for your friend so you’ve been removing and putting on your gloves over and over again until Katsuki can’t stand it anymore.
You’re outside on a bench waiting for him while he runs into some shop when he comes back out he snatches your phone out of your hand.
“What the hell? I’m usin-“ you start shouting at him.
“ give me those shitty gloves and put these on. I’m sick of watching you struggle.”
When you look down you see a pair of gloves in your favorite color.
“How are these any different from the ones I have now, Mr. Know-it-all”
He smirks at you, “These gloves are thicker than those thin ones you use AND they work on smart phones.. so yea. I do know it all.”
“Oh…. Well thanks I guess” you murmur lowly.
“Now you can talk Racoon eyes through her mental breakdowns without getting frost bite in your fingers.”he says then hands you back your phone. “She deserve better than that idiot anyways. Don’t why she keeps putting up with it.”
Katsuki is leaving for a mission today and you’ve been so gloomy. He gonna be gone at least 3 days, maybe even the whole week.
You’re been wrapped around him like ivy since you woke up this morning.
“Listen woman, I have to go. You do this every time.”he says with his arms wrapped around you waist pulling you even more flush against him.
“You should clone yourself or something. Who am I gonna cuddle with now?? And who is gonna cook for me?? I’ll die of starvation before you get back. Is that what you want. To come home to a dead girlfriend???”
“You are so damn dramatic. Cuddle with the damn plethor of plushies you have in my goddamn bed. And as far as food… you won’t starve. You’ll just eat out everyday and I’ll come back to you complaining you’ve gained weight when you look the exact same.”
“I do not.”, you start to object.
“Yes you do. Which is why I made a few meals and froze them.” He says all smug, cuz he knows that would surprise you.
“You what??” You ask looking up at him with wide eyes.
“There’s a pot pie and dumplings. I even stored a lasagna in there.” Then his phone buzzes letting him know his ride is downstairs.
“Ok I gotta go. I love you.” And he bends down to give you a deep kiss. “Be safe. Call Eiji if you need anything and try not to burn the house down before I get back.”
“I love you too. Come back to me in one piece please.”
He smiles at you, “always”
He kisses you one more time and then heads to the car.
You go directly to the fridge to see the frozen meals he left you. And not only are the packages all neatly but he’s left the heating instructions on top for you.
To say there were tears shed would be an understatement.
Katsuki Masterlist
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