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rottenfyre · 23 days ago

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⸻ ꜰʀɪᴇɴᴅʟʏ ɴᴇɪɢʜʙᴏʀ ⸻

Pairing: Yandere Batfam x Fem Reader Part 1

Headcanon: What if Bruce find a kid with spider powers?

Notes: Reader have the same abilities as spiderman. She's 10 years old and a year younger than Dick. English is not my first language. Hope you enjoy!

You were on your way back home with a hefty diamond in hand—a steal worth more than anything you’d swiped before. Sure, it wasn’t exactly something a kid could sell at a pawn shop, but you weren’t stupid. You knew where to go, who to talk to. You weren’t scared of the shady underworld—it wasn’t anything you couldn’t handle.

That was until the Bat and his little bird found you.

“Drop it,” a deep, commanding voice called from the shadows.

You froze mid-swing, perched high on a rooftop with the bag strapped to your back. Turning your head slightly, you caught the unmistakable silhouette of Batman. Next to him, Robin—a kid about your age—stood with his hands on his hips, looking ridiculously eager.

“Oh, hell no,” you muttered under your breath before shooting a web to the nearest building and bolting.

But they were faster than you anticipated. They cut you off at every turn. You snarled and swung as fast as you could, but a Batarang snagged your web mid-flight, sending you tumbling to the ground. Before you could recover, a pair of strong hands pinned you down.

“Let me go, you big asshole!” you screamed, thrashing wildly as Bruce cuffed your hands with some high-tech restraints.

“Not happening,” he replied gruffly.

“Language,” Dick added with an almost scolding tone.

And that was how you found yourself in this position. They tied you up like some kind of psycho, ropes binding your wrists and ankles as you sat in a chair in the Batcave. You didn’t make it easy for them, twisting and spitting curses like a feral cat.

“Let me go, you freak!” you yelled, thrashing as Bruce stood over you, arms crossed. “You think this is gonna scare me?!”

Dick stepped forward, trying to defuse the situation. “Hey, uh...bro,” he said awkwardly, his boyish grin in full force. “Look, I get it. You’re upset. But this place is actually kinda cool, don’t you think? Like—wow, are those real bats up there?”

You turned your glare on him, looking him up and down with a sneer. “Wow, are you real stupid or just playin’ dumb?” you snapped. “Do I look like I wanna talk about your creepy bat zoo?”

Dick blinked, clearly not expecting your hostility. But then he grinned again, undeterred. “You’ve got powers, huh? That’s pretty awesome. Maybe we could be—”

“Shut up, Robin Hood,” you interrupted. “I wouldn’t be caught dead hangin’ with some sidekick in a green elf costume. You’re embarrassing.”

Dick’s face turned red, and he fidgeted, unsure how to respond. Meanwhile, Bruce crouched in front of you, his piercing gaze boring into yours.

“You’re very...hostile for someone so young,” he said calmly. “Why don’t you tell me who you’re working with? That diamond you stole isn’t something a kid like you can sell on your own.”

You rolled your eyes, leaning back in your chair as much as the ropes would allow. “Oh, sure, let me just spill my whole evil plan to the Bat Guy,” you drawled. “What are you gonna do, ground me?”

Bruce’s jaw tightened slightly, but he stayed calm.

Dick, meanwhile, was still fuming from your earlier insult. “You're such a bitch, you know that?” he blurted. “I was just trying to be nice!”

You raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “Aw, poor baby. Did I hurt your little feelings? Go cry about it, Boy Blunder.”

“He’s… feisty,” Dick whispered.

“That's a girl,” Bruce corrected flatly.

Dick blinked, his face going red as he stared at you. “W-Wait, you’re a girl?!”

You rolled your eyes so hard it hurt. “Duh, dumbass.”

“I-I just thought—”

“Yeah, yeah, you thought wrong. Congrats. Now SHUT UP!”

Bruce sighed. “Robin, step back.”

“But—”

“Now.”

Dick retreated reluctantly, glancing at you with a mix of irritation and curiosity. Bruce leaned closer, his voice dropping to a dangerous tone. “Let’s try this again. Who are you working with?”

You spat on his face. “Your mom, bitch.”

That was it. Before you could blink, Bruce grabbed the ropes and hoisted you upside down, letting you dangle in mid-air.

“HEY! Put me down, you psychopath!” you yelled, kicking uselessly.

Bruce's jaw ticked. Without a word, he stormed off, leaving you hanging upside down like a piñata.

Dick stayed behind, awkwardly scratching the back of his neck. Finally, he managed, “S-So... uh... you... doing okay up there?”

“What do you think?!”

Dick winced, laughing nervously. “R-Right. Yeah. Of course. Stupid question.” He paused, glancing at the ropes holding you up, then back at your upside-down glare. “Uh, you're really a girl huh?” he stammered, cheeks red.

You stared at him, unimpressed. “Yeah...”

“Wow... That's so cool, I—I mean, uh, I know you’re a girl now! B-But before, I—I thought you were a... a guy. B-But not in a bad way! Just in a... ‘cool guy’ way! But now you’re, uh... y-you’re a cool girl!” He laughed nervously. “You’re different from other girls I’ve met, I mean, in a good way! Like, you’re cool, and, uh—”

“Please stop talking before I lose what little respect I have for you.”

“Right. Uh. Got it,” he mumbled, backing away slowly. “I’ll, uh... just... be over here if you need anything! Or, uh, don’t. That’s cool too...”

You groaned, closing your eyes. “Kill me now.”

“Y-You don’t mean that, right?” he asked nervously, his voice cracking slightly.

“Robin.”

“Y-Yeah?”

“Shut up.”

“R-Right. Shutting up now.”

The next day, Bruce returned with new information. He sat in front of you, untied this time but still under his watchful gaze.

“I know why you’re stealing,” he said simply.

You stiffened, your usual bravado faltering for a moment. “Yeah? Good for you.”

“Your mother has cancer,” he continued. “And you’re trying to take care of her and your siblings. That’s a lot for someone your age.”

Your throat tightened, and you clenched your jaw. Your blood ran cold. “You leave them out of this.”

Bruce’s expression softened ever so slightly. “Don't worry. I’m going to help them. But you have to stop stealing.”

You blinked at him, suspicious. “Help?”

“A house, medical care for your mom, clothes, food—everything you need.”

You clenched your jaw, tears threatening to spill. You wouldn’t let him see you cry. “Why would you help me?”

“Because I can.”

For once, you were speechless.

True to his word, Bruce Wayne—Batman—changed your life. He bought your family a house, new clothes, paid for your mother’s hospital bills and now you and your siblings going to school. You didn’t know how to thank him. So, you didn’t. Not right away.

One night, two years after Bruce first caught you, you climbed through his window at the Manor. He had just returned from patrol, removing his cowl when he saw you.

“The new clothes suit you,” he said, his usual gruffness tinged with something softer. “You look...lovely.”

Your face heated. You looked away, fiddling with the pink clip in your now longer hair. "Thanks," you mumbled, then, after a pause, "I… I wanted to say… thank you. For everything." You shifted uncomfortably, still not used to feeling like someone actually cared about you.

"No need," he said.

Bruce smiled, and there was something in his eyes that made your chest tighten. Then, without thinking, you blurted out, “Can I join you? In... whatever this is. I mean, you’ve helped me. So… it's only make sense if I do the same, right?”

Bruce studied you for a long moment before nodding. “We’ll see.”

And for the first time you smiled back.

Side Headcanon

@ʀᴏᴛᴛᴇɴꜰʏʀᴇ 2024. ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ᴄᴏᴘʏ, ᴛʀᴀɴꜱʟᴀᴛᴇ ᴏʀ ᴜꜱᴇ ᴀɴʏ ᴏꜰ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋꜱ ʜᴇʀᴇ ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ᴡᴇʙꜱɪᴛᴇꜱ.

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craftsaw · 2 years ago

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Carbide Hacksaw Blade- A Closer Look At The Basics Need To Be Known To Choose The Right One Online!

Carbide Hacksaw Blade is one such tool that literally completes the tool kit of every craftsmen and wood worker out there. The basic reason why we are making such a statement is that this blade makes such precise cuts that the workmanship level immediately go a level up. This Carbide Rod Saw is generally used with table saws and miter saws for making furniture items as the wear out stands minimal.

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These days there is an option to buy a digital Craft Saw, if one is looking for a portable one that fits into the budget; this would be the right purchase. One last thing, no matter, what blade you wish to buy, always focus on the overall built quality of the saw as this is what matters at the end.

#Rope Saw #Diamond Wire Saw Blade #Hacksaw Blade Includes Blades #Tree Branch Cutting

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pucksandpower · 8 months ago

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Sea Cows and Koalas

Oscar Piastri x Reader

Summary: Oscar just wants to impress his girlfriend, but those stupid sea cows keep stealing your attention

The South Florida sun beats down mercilessly as Logan’s sleek speedboat cuts through the turquoise waters of Biscayne Bay. Oscar leans back, soaking in the warmth and salty sea breeze while fiddling with the wakeboard bindings. Out of the corner of his eye, he catches you gazing wistfully over the side of the boat, peering into the depths.

“Looking for something, babe?” Oscar asks with an amused grin.

You turn towards him, eyes lit up with anticipation. “Manatees! I read they’re really common around here.”

Logan chuckles from the driver’s seat. “Good luck spotting one. Those sea potatoes are sneaky.”

“Sea potatoes?” Oscar snorts. “Is that an American thing?”

“What can I say? They’re fuzzy and they float.” Logan winks at you. “Like your man’s ego after a few drinks.”

“Hey!” Oscar reaches over to playfully shove Logan’s shoulder. “I’ll show you who’s all fluff out there.”

With a devilish smirk, he secures the final binding and stands tall, wakeboard in hand. Logan revs the engine, kicking up a spray of saltwater that has you giggling. Oscar shoots you a roguish wink before plunging into the azure waves.

Moments later, the corded rope connecting Oscar to the boat grows taut. He rockets out of the water, carving through the air with effortless grace. A wide grin spreads across his face as the wind whips through his hair.

“Woohoo!” Oscar hollers, riding the wakes with the confidence of a seasoned pro. He slices through the swell, spraying diamond showers that glisten in the sunlight.

You watch in awe, your face bright with adoration. But then something in the water catches your eye — a gray shape moving just below the surface. You gasp, scrambling to the edge of the boat and nearly tumbling overboard in your excitement.

“Manatee! I see one!”

Oscar’s brow furrows in confusion at your sudden outburst. His distraction costs him, and with a yelp he loses his edge, slamming into the unforgiving surface in an unceremonious belly flop.

Logan cackles, easing back on the throttle as Oscar bobs up, sputtering saltwater and treading water in a daze. “Smooth moves, Pretty Boy!”

Your face falls as the manatee disappears into the depths once more. “Oh no, I missed it!”

Oscar doggie paddles over to the boat, his ego more bruised than his body. “You just had to get distracted, didn’t you?” He grumbles, reaching up with pleading eyes. “A little help here?”

You bite your lip, trying to stifle a giggle as you grab his outstretched hand and haul him aboard with a grunt. Oscar flops down beside you, leaving a puddle on the immaculate deck. Water streams from his hair and board shorts as he shoots you a petulant glare.

“Really? Sea cows over me?”

You can’t help but laugh at his childish pout. “Oh, don’t be such a baby! You were amazing out there.”

“Was I?” An impish grin plays across Oscar’s lips as he inches closer, leaving a trail of water in his wake. “Prove it.”

With a mischievous glint in his eye, he snakes an arm around your waist and pulls you into a sopping wet embrace. You squeal in surprise as the cold lake water seeps into your clothes.

“Oscar! You’re getting me all wet!”

“That’s the idea,” he murmurs, drinking in your flushed features.

Logan shakes his head in amusement. “Get a room, you two.”

Oscar is only too happy to oblige, capturing your lips in a searing kiss that steams up the air around you. His fingers tangle in your damp hair as the passionate embrace deepens, banishing all thought of manatees or wakeboarding from your mind.

At least until a crashing wave erupts nearby, dousing you both in a shock of frigid saltwater. You yelp, breaking the kiss with a sputter while Oscar sits back with a sheepish grin.

Logan cackles from the helm. “Easy, lovebirds! There’s no lifeguard on duty.”

You shoot the American a playful glare, then turn back to your breathless boyfriend. Tenderly, you brush a stray lock of dripping hair from his brow, cradling his chiseled jaw in your palm.

“You know, as fun as watching you show off is ...” You lean in until your lips brush tantalizingly against the sensitive skin just below his ear. “I prefer my Oscar humble and pliant.”

A visible shiver races down Oscar’s spine as your breath ghosts over him. He swallows hard, brown eyes darkening with unspoken desire. “Your wish is my command.”

You can’t help but smirk at how easily he surrenders to your whims. With a soft giggle, you trail a line of feather-light kisses along the sharp line of his jaw, relishing the way his breath catches in his throat.

Logan lets out an obnoxious whistle. “Alright, alright! Keep it PG over there!”

Reluctantly, you pull away, leaving Oscar dazed and slightly flushed. He watches you with a wistful smile as you return your gaze to the gently lapping waves, ever vigilant for signs of the elusive sea cows.

The hot sun soon dries the lingering drops clinging to Oscar’s reddening skin. He leans back with a contented sigh, idly toying with the wakeboarding rope while studying your rapt profile. The salty ocean breeze tousles your hair in an enchanting dance that has his chest swelling with unabashed adoration.

How did he ever get so lucky?

Oscar isn’t sure how long he sits there mesmerized before Logan’s laughter shatters the peaceful reverie.

“Hate to break it to you, man, but I think your girl likes manatees more than you!” Logan teases, slapping the throttle with a cheeky grin.

Oscar blinks, bemused, until he follows Logan’s gaze to you — still transfixed on the glassy waters below. A fond smile tugs at the corner of his lips. Of course you would fall under the spell of such gentle, unassuming creatures. His beautiful weirdo.

With a dramatic huff, Oscar flops down beside you, draping his head in your lap and batting his lashes up at you imploringly.

“I’m sorry, what was that?” He asks in an exaggerated sulk. “When did sea potatoes become more interesting than me?”

You giggle at his playful antics, giving his chiseled jaw an affectionate scratch. “Don’t worry, buttercup. There’s enough of me to go around.”

Oscar arches a skeptical brow. “Is that so?”

Without warning, he rolls over and nuzzles his face into your stomach, peppering your cotton shirt with sloppy, pouty kisses. You can’t stifle your laughter as his ticklish stubble assaults your sensitive skin.

“Oscar! St-stop it!” You squirm and swat at him halfheartedly, breathless with mirth. “We have company!”

Logan shoots you a roguish wink from behind the steering wheel. “Don’t mind me, love birds. Just pretend I’m not here.”

Oscar grins wickedly, ignoring Logan as he continues his relentless assault, until finally you cry for mercy between gasping peals of laughter.

“Okay, okay! You win!” Tenderly, you cup Oscar’s face in your hands and guide him up until your noses are brushing. “You’ve got my full, undivided attention. Happy now, Mr. Needy?”

“Getting there,” Oscar murmurs, drinking in your flushed, breathless features with unfiltered longing. He leans in until your foreheads are touching, savoring your intoxicating closeness. “All I need is one more thing ...”

You regard him with an arched brow, unable to resist playing along. “Oh? And what’s that?”

Rather than answering directly, Oscar closes the scant distance between you, claiming your lips in a searing, all-consuming kiss. You melt against him with a contented sigh, cradling the back of his neck as you lose yourself in the embrace.

Logan whistles again from the helm. “Not gonna lie, I’m a little jealous over here!”

Reluctantly, you break away with a breathless giggle, nuzzling your flushed cheek against Oscar’s. “Okay, okay. I think you’ve successfully reminded me who has my heart.”

A smug grin tugs at Oscar’s lips. “And don’t you forget it.”

He punctuates the smug remark with another lingering peck. But just as he’s withdrawing, you catch a fleeting glimpse of movement beneath the waves — a sleek gray shape growing closer and closer.

You gasp in delight, headbutting Oscar as you scramble upright. “There! Did you see that!”

Oscar blinks owlishly, rubbing the spot on his forehead where you clocked him. “I … what?”

“A manatee!” You exclaim, bouncing excitedly on the cushioned deck. “It was right there! Oh, they’re even more adorable than I imagined!”

You shoot Oscar your most imploring puppy dog eyes, bottom lip protruding in an irresistible pout. “Can we … get one?”

Oscar’s brows climb toward his hairline. “Get one? As in … you want to adopt a manatee?”

You nod fervently. “Why not? They’re the sweetest things!”

A chuckle rumbles up from Oscar’s chest as he regards you with a blend of adoration and bewilderment. Leave it to you to fall head-over-heels for a three-ton marine mammal.

“And just where do you propose we keep this … pet manatee?” He asks, struggling to keep a straight face.

You open your mouth, then falter, momentarily stumped. A crease forms between your brows as you ponder the dilemma. After a beat, your eyes light up with your stroke of genius.

“The bathtub!”

Oscar barks out a laugh, loud and uninhibited. “The bathtub? Seriously?”

You level him with a deadpan stare, completely serious. “What? We have a big tub.”

Shaking his head in disbelief, Oscar pulls you into a fond embrace, lips brushing your forehead in a gentle kiss. “You’re certifiable, you know that?”

A contented hum rumbles in your throat as you snuggle deeper into the circle of his arms. “Maybe. But you love me for it.”

“That I do,” Oscar murmurs, resting his cheek on top of your head as the sun begins its descent over Miami’s shimmering coastline. “That I do.”

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lalunanymph · 1 year ago

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𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 ─── gojo never thought he would see the day when he would be in this situation: helplessly bound and gagged, watching his best friend of over 20 years fuck his wife on their marital bed.

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 ─── you're now reading . . . 𝐂𝐔𝐂𝐊𝐎𝐋𝐃 + 𝐂𝐔𝐌 𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 + 𝐁𝐎𝐍𝐃𝐀𝐆𝐄 with gojo satoru & geto suguru

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 ─── wife!reader, fem!reader, consensual cuckholding, cheating insecurities, bondage, panty gag, nipple play, cum eating, oral s[e]x, riding, gojo's inhumane strength + flexibility

⇤flip back to the pervtober masterlist

As much as he was the strongest sorcerer in the world, there was one thing Gojo Satoru was hesitant to do—and that was to share the things he loved.

Anytime his students made eyes at a sweet treat he held in his hand, or when Nobara tried to “borrow” his black card, he would divert them with a sarcastic quip or annoy them until they dropped it.

But, if push came to shove, Gojo supposes he could share—especially when if it was with his best friend of 20 over years, Suguru Geto.

In hindsight, Satoru and Suguru had a lot of things in common.

The same initials, the same cut of uniform, their eerily uncanny height. Even their shared love for obscure memes bonded them together.

But, one thing Gojo never expected to share with his best friend?

You—his own, sweet wife.

It wasn’t the kind of threesome you would find in a sappy porno. Gojo was unsure how he had let you lead him into this situation, but you must’ve been a lustful curse reincarnated in the form of a beautiful woman.

He couldn’t resist your pretty doe eyes or your glossy lips twisted into a pout when you whined, “Please, Satoru? Can you do it for me?”

Sure, he was a menace half of the time, but Satoru would lay the heavens and earth by your feet the second you asked him to.

So, when you brought up the idea of a threesome, he was intrigued. After all, the both of you were pretty adventurous in the sack, and he couldn’t deny how sexy it was to imagine you with another woman.

Except, you requested for someone else completely different.

You had asked him to share you with Suguru.

The kicker was, Satoru thought he would at least get some action. But, when you shared how it would turn you on to no end to see him all tied up and helpless, his curiosity was kicked up a notch.

Gojo was the type of man who would try anything once, even if the idea sounded absolutely awful.

So, here he was, right in the middle of his marital bed, all tied up prettily with some red jute rope that contrasted perfectly with his marble pale skin. You were straddling his lap, clad in a skimpy black thong and bralette which barely covered your heaving tits as you kissed him over and over again.

“Fuck—mhm,” Gojo groaned when you sucked on his bottom lip. Satoru loved it when you got this horny for him; it made him feel like the only man on this planet to get you this vulnerable and impure.

Except, he wasn’t. In the back of his mind, he couldn’t stop thinking about how he would feel when Geto arrived. The same Geto who had been there for him through thick and thin—who had been his best man at his own wedding. That Geto who was currently on his way over to his mansion, ready to fuck his lovely wife without a shred of hesitation.

You bit on his lower lip, bringing back his attention to the task at hand. “You look so pretty, ‘Toru,” you purred in a husky whisper, running your soft hands down his sculpted chest. The diamond patterns dug into his skin, sure to leave an imprint behind when you released those binds later. Satoru fixed those beautiful, baby blue eyes onto you, and it shouldn’t turn you on this much to see him already halfway ruined for you.

“Baby, please,” he mumbled, and you felt his cock straining behind his sweatpants; itching to be buried in your tight heat.

“Ssh,” you murmured, and he shivered when your red-tipped nails caught on his nipples. You pinched and flicked those pink nubs until they stiffened, an undeniable sign of his pure desire for you. “Let me take care of you, Satoru.”

The sound of his name leaving your lips made a shiver wrack up his spine. Satoru held his breath when you kissed down his neck and collarbone, leading your painted red lips right to his pelvic bone.

His cock stirred when you began to palm it, licking your lips when you noticed a growing wet patch on the front of his pants.

“Already hard for me, baby?” you traced the shape of his leaking head with one teasing finger. “You need to have more self-control than that.”

If he was being honest, this was his karma for always stringing you on and denying your orgasms. Gojo could feel the frustration burning deep inside of him. For a man who was used to getting everything, having you within reach was the worst torture of his life.

He was close enough to ripping the ropes off and fucking you, when your sweet laughter chimed in his roaring ears. Your deviousness took him off guard when you slipped your hand under the waistband of his pants, finding his leaky cock and fisting it gently.

Without a second of hesitation, you stroked him from base to tip, enjoying how his body jerked forward violently. The veins on his neck were popping, the one on his forehead almost bulging out as you twisted your wrist, feigning a sweet coo of apology when you grazed his balls.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, baby,” you whispered in fake sympathy. “Too sensitive?”

“Gah—ugh,” Gojo gasped out, almost throwing you off his body with a sharp buck of his hips.

The taste of his cock beckoned you to take it up a notch, and you didn’t fight back the urge. Scooting down the length of his longer torso, you gently drew down the waistband of his already soiled pants, greeted by the sight of his stiff cock rising in full mast.

Satoru really did have the prettiest dick in the game. Girthy and longer than average with a vein running from base to tip, it begged for a mouth to salivate all over it.

Gently kissing the flushed head, you heard him whine out your name. “Stop teasing me,” he huffed, pouting and looking so cute covered with sweat. “You’re being way too mean, pumpkin.”

He would believe your giggle to be innocence incarnate if only you didn’t do what you did next.

Your tongue—that devilish trickster who could make him cum or cry depending on your mood—swiped over his weeping slit, toying with a string of precum connecting the supple flesh to that pink muscle. You shamelessly made out with his swollen tip, licking and sucking the mushroom-shaped head without any care to its poor, overstimulated owner.

Satoru cried out, his abs undulating and clenching. Those blue eyes eclipsed over with immense need, going half-mast. But, you spared him no mercy.

Taking him down your throat was done with little to no resistance. Gojo’s lustful cries rebounded across the painted walls, his tied hands behind his back clenching and fisting the soft duvet to ground himself from the unending pleasure.

Your talented mouth worked up and down his length, and he really wished he hadn’t agreed to such stupid games—Gojo had never wanted to fuck you as badly as he did now, when he wasn’t allowed to.

“Fuck,” he mumbled coarsely, completely fixated on your face when you deep-throated him. Gojo couldn’t stop himself from throbbing all over at the sight of your throat bulging with the thick of him.

It drove him close to insanity at how talented you were—your angelic mewls and moans spurring him on.

His mouth fell open, lax and panting. “B-baby… please…”

He had no idea what he was begging for, but he was solely motivated by the sweetest release you were constantly denying him.

Whenever he approached his high, you would slow down your movements, or remove your mouth completely from his length. It frustrated him to no end, and the effect was imminent when his cock wouldn’t stop leaking milky white rivulets onto your palm.

Giggling like the tease you were, you removed your thong, glistening and sticky with your juices to stuff it into his mouth.

Satoru was a sight—cheeks flushed, frosty bangs stuck to his forehead with sweat, mouth crammed full of lace.

You wished you could take a photo or a video so the filthy sight would stick with you longer.

But, your time with Satoru’s obedience was running short. The strongest sorcerer was close enough to snapping out of his bondage and fucking you six ways into Sunday. You could taste his humiliation on the tip of your tongue, his impatience bleeding right through the air.

Geto should be here any minute now.

As if on cue, the front door opened, and both you and Satoru perked up.

His muffled moans were pathetic at best and panicked at worst. He would never imagine being in this position, not in a thousand years.

He was Gojo Satoru—the chosen one, the heavenly one. To be debased right in his own marital bed by the woman who wore his commitment around her left finger was a considerable feat.

But, here he was, humbled right into his own Egyptian cotton sheets, while Geto stood by the doorway, dressed in a button down shirt and slacks. His best friend took one look at him—the rope harness wrapped around his torso and the thong prised in between his teeth—and chuckled.

“Hey, Satoru.”

Geto tossed him an easy smile as he made his way towards the bed, every lanky fibre in his 6’4 body fused with amusement. “Getting comfortable?”

Satoru’s glare was a sudden contrast from his usual jovial expression, and it would’ve been disconcerting had the stuck thong in his mouth not ruined the effect.

You giggled, batting your eyelashes at Suguru.

“I made him extra comfy, Suguru.”

Something about you saying Geto’s name, all sweet and teasing, made Satoru see red.

He huffed and groaned, shifting in his position like he was trying to sit up.

“Uh-uh,” you murmured, gently pressing one palm into his broad chest to keep him in one position. “You promised not to get jealous, ‘Toru. Remember what you said?”

Geto sidled up behind you, those large palms sliding up your hips to rest intimately on your sternum.

“‘I can handle it’,” Geto quipped, earning another baleful glare from Satoru. “Well, you did say you were the strongest—I guess even you’re not immune to jealousy.”

Gojo swore that he was close enough to ripping through these flimsy ropes and blasting Suguru into the next dimension. It was what he should’ve been doing, but he was torn; the sight unfurling before him was too enticing to look away.

Suguru slowly inched one hand up your chest, clasping your neck. He pulled your face close to his parted lips, devouring your open-mouthed gasp with a kiss which had you moaning wantonly.

As if Gojo was merely a side character on his own bed, you straddled Suguru, deepening the kiss.

And Satoru had no idea what was worse—having you tease him to his wits’ end, or not even having a shred of your attention.

Geto’s tongue sliding deep into your mouth made you cry out his name, and Satoru quickly figured out which was the biggest horror.

It wasn’t you denying him or ignoring him—it was watching you grind on his best friend’s lap and realising he enjoyed it.

He liked watching you lose yourself to another man, how you bloomed for someone who wasn’t your own husband. Through these lenses, he could finally see what made him always come back for more; why he barely hesitated to put a ring on your finger without a second thought.

The woman he fell in love with and married was completely beautiful in the throes of her pleasure.

In this position, Satoru wasn’t losing himself deep in the fog of lust and missing out on your ethereal expressions or heavenly moans. He was privileged to have a front row seat to your every reaction.

He watched pleasure unfurl itself across your face—from your mouth falling open to your eyebrows pinching together—as Suguru caressed your neck and collarbone with open-mouthed kisses. Satoru barely cared about the bastard who was having you for the night; he only had eyes for you.

Sure, Geto was pretty experienced in the bedroom judging from the number of one night stands who were desperate enough to ask him for his best friend’s number. But, he could never hold a flame to Satoru’s sensual wife.

You let Geto push you down into the sheets, right next to your bound and gagged husband. The dark-haired sorcerer chuckled, helping you remove his shirt and pants, leaving him bare except for his boxers.

Satoru watched, ignoring how his cock twitched pathetically when the both of you started kissing again.

This time, you used more tongue and teeth than usual, the kiss a clash of wet slurps and crisp clacking which made every hair on Gojo’s body stand.

He couldn’t stop getting an eyeful of your pink tongue stroking Suguru’s lower lip. Every chamber of his heart clenched in pure agony and ecstasy as Geto kissed his way down your body, right to the apex of your bare thighs.

Hitching your shapely legs over his shoulders, Geto shamelessly ate out another man’s wife—licking, sucking and stroking her folds and clit with his broad tongue. His hair was already in a disarray from your clutching fingers, every sweet gasp that fell from your mouth driving both men insane.

“She tastes good, Satoru,” Geto’s words shocked him back rudely to the present. The dark-haired man threw him a smirk. “I can see why you married her.”

His nostrils flared, and a strong stab of jealousy surged through his entire soul when you twined your fingers in Suguru’s hair, drawing him back to your glistening cunt.

Geto spent a few minutes driving you to the edge, and judging by your moans and heavy breathing, you were definitely close.

Your soft whimper filled Satoru with spikes of disgust mixed with prickly intrigue. You were shamelessly grinding your pussy right into Geto’s mouth, whispering his name mixed with profanities which sounded awfully close to the curses you would spout when Satoru himself was fucking you.

But, like the twisted and curious fiend he was, Gojo remained silent and pliant, letting Suguru have his way with you.

The other man unclasped your bra, tossing it to the ground and going straight for your nipples; sucking, pinching and biting down on them hard enough to earn you sweet squeaks.

Satoru was quickly turning green with jealousy at your ecstatic sounds, and soon, the doubts crept in.

Does she love me?

Did she initiate this because she’s tired of me?

Did I do something wrong?

But, Gojo already knew the answers to those debilitating questions.

He loved you with every inch of his soul. You were the one thing he looked forward to coming home at the end of every day, and the last person he wished to hold as he drifted off to sleep every night.

Satoru treated you with nothing short of respect and worship like the goddess you were.

So, if he did everything right, then where did it all go so wrong?

“‘Toru,” you whimpered, as Geto lined his cock right up to your weeping slit. You turned to him, reaching out to caress his cheek. “I love you, Satoru.”

As if your words were coated in fairy dust, his heart almost lifted right out of his ribcage.

Your sweet smile just before Geto sank right into your tight heat was embedded in his brain. It was like he was the only man in the room, even as you were fucking another.

Geto was pushing a pace that had your toes curling and head thrown back. But, you never once broke eye contact with Satoru.

An inexplicable wave of fondness filled Gojo’s heart right to the brim, and his own brilliant blue eyes softened, focused on the planes of a familiar face he loved with his entire soul. You giggled, bright and beautiful, cheek to the pillow while your hair bled out behind you like an eloquent ink stain.

You were so incredibly gorgeous it hurt.

Satoru barely noticed when Suguru filled you up. The only indication you gave him was a pinch in your brow and a soft gasp that mellowed out into a dulcet moan. Once the other man was done using your body, you broke eye contact to meet Suguru’s gaze, a certain friendly fondness written in the corners of your lips.

Geto planted a perfunctory kiss on your forehead, a silent ‘thank you’ for involving him in your fantasies.

He rose from between your thighs, shooting a knowing smile to his still bound and gagged bestfriend.

“See you on Monday, Satoru.”

Gojo grumbled, blue eyes sharp as daggers staring at his broad back as it left the sanctuary of his bedroom.

The door closed on the two of you, and you exhaled a chuckle.

“I didn’t cum,” you mumbled, and something about those words made Satoru’s ego flare up to terrible heights. He would always make sure you climaxed at the same time he did; it must’ve either been a hard limit you set with Geto, or the other man wasn’t as good in bed as Satoru thought he was.

Your husband snorted, and you rolled your eyes.

“Don’t look so smug.”

Satoru didn’t listen to you. He looked pleased, humming in a low tone.

You fished out your soaked thong from between his teeth.

Gojo stretched out his jaw, and before he could run his mouth and say something which would ruin this moment, you perched yourself on his chest, spreading your folds.

A tiny trickle of cum was oozing down your plush folds, and your husband barely felt an inch of disgust when he grinned.

“Gonna make me eat you out now, baby?” he rasped.

You rolled your eyes again—he should really spank you silly for that—and rose on your knees, presenting your used pussy to him.

“Ready, big boy?”

Satoru was born ready. He curled forward, wiggling further up the pillows to give himself more leverage to plant his mouth on your waiting cunt. You gasped, completely taken aback by how feverishly Gojo was eating you out—eating up his best friend’s cum from your abused hole.

Your eyes were halfway rolling back into your skull, small fingers gripping the headboard with enough strength to leave a dent behind.

Satoru was in pure heaven—if heaven was tainted with the taste of hell.

The bitter taste of another man lingering in between your folds filled him with a mixture of disgust and exhilaration. Never in a million years would the Satoru Gojo—the universe’s favourite and blessed one—think he would be in such a situation. This release of power filled him with a rush of disorientating high, kind of like that one time he ate twenty daifukus in one go.

And judging from the sweet sounds you made, you were just as turned on from this taboo act as he was.

Gojo swore he could cum from just one touch of his cock; Gojo Jr. was flushed red with neglect, begging for you to pay attention to him.

The relief which flooded through his chest could’ve rendered him on his knees, in tears, when you pried your pussy away from him, focused now on fisting his cock.

“D-Don’t,” Gojo stuttered coarsely. “Might cum, sweetheart—f-fuck—wanna do it inside.”

His disjointed words and broken moans shot straight up in your head, leaving you dizzy with the pure power of rendering the strongest sorcerer incoherent. Gojo actually whimpered when you nudged his fat tip past your entrance, his beautiful oceanic eyes glazing over.

“F-fuck, pumpkin,” he groaned obscenely, and you couldn’t take it anymore—bottoming out in a sharp, swift movement, the both of you crying out in ecstasy.

“Oh, fuck,” Gojo swore lowly when you began to buckle your hips, riding him all slow and sensual.

His head thumped back into the soft pillows, a ragged moan of surrender leaving his peachy lips. You were too distracted by how plush they looked, and pitched forward swiftly to kiss him while you rode him to oblivion.

There were no sounds in the room but both your harsh breathing. You were growing dizzier and dizzier, all the oxygen knocked out from your lungs as you tried to chase your high because as much as you were teasing Gojo, you were teasing yourself, too.

“‘Toru,” you whimpered. He eyed you rubbing your clit with pure hunger in those ethereal eyes, lost in the mind-numbing motion of you bucking your hips back and forth back and forth to take him to that sacred point.

Your thighs were beginning to tremble, and Gojo immediately knew you were going to cum. You clamped down on him at the same time your head tossed back, and before you could comprehend, Gojo used whatever remained of his core strength to flip you onto the mattress.

With his hands tied behind his back, Satoru still managed to fuck you into the sheets. You instinctively steadied him, arms vined tightly around his shoulders. This position was incredibly intimate; you could feel his broken moans fanning across your neck, his face hidden in the crook of your jaw. Every pore of his body was bleeding into yours, the both of you physically closer than any human could be.

And yet, it wasn’t enough. You wanted to live in his skin, be one with his bones.

Satoru was a part of you, and you were a part of him. Always.

He lived in your every trembling exhale, while you made a home on his lips, where he could taste you for a lifetime of pleasure.

“I love you,” your harsh whisper made the hairs on the back of his neck stand to attention.

Roaming your hands down his broad back, you grazed your nails on his undercut, eliciting a full-bodied shiver from the strongest sorcerer.

“I love you, Satoru.”

“‘Course you do,” he grunted, lifting his face to clumsily kiss down your jaw. “M’the only one who could ever make you cum, baby.”

And as he predicted so smugly, his words were true.

Your connection with Gojo would forever break through any logic or emotions, even the boundaries of what your body was capable of.

In a few short minutes, you were dissolving for him, your cries of pleasure filling his ears like the prettiest sonnets. Gojo continued to fuck you through your climax, and you were too keyed up enough that you came again; your wails could’ve brought the ceiling down. White splashed out in your vision, your mouth opened in a silent scream.

A well of warmth filled you up, reclaiming his mark on your womb.

Instantly, Gojo’s entire body weight sank into you, smothering the breath from your aching lungs.

You took a few minutes to come back to the ground, fluttering your eyes open and finding him still trying to catch his breath.

Quickly, you unwound the ropes from him, and just like you predicted, the imprints left in his skin were glorious. You held him in the seam of embrace as you massaged his aching shoulders, careful to show him more love now that he was all vulnerable and pouty.

“Satoru?” you whispered carefully.

Gojo mumbled something under his breath, and you fought back a spreading smile from how petulant he sounded.

“You alright, sweetie?”

“Hmm,” he rubbed his cheeks into your throat like a needy kitten. “Never been better.”

“I love you, you know that?”

He hummed again.

“Baby?”

Tuning in fully, you nodded. “Yeah, baby?”

“Next time I share you with Suguru, you’re gonna be the one tied up.”

Not a request; it was a statement.

You could barely wait till the next devious time.

intellectual property of ©️lalunanymph. do not copy, repost or play around with my sentence structures, plots and characterization.

#gojo x reader #gojo smut #gojo satoru smut #gojo satoru x reader #geto suguru x reader #geto x reader #geto smut #jjk x reader #jjk gojo #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen #🦢 writes #geto suguru smut

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solxamber · 3 months ago

Note

Kind of want to see how you write White Rabbit!Reader overbloting with the TWST characters.

On your rules, it didn't state whether or not you wrote angst or not, soooooo......

I imagine while everyone else sees it as just teasing anxious/shy beastman, White Rabbit!Reader doesn't find it funny at all and finds it kind of insulting that people are willing to tease them in some shape or form or even try to rope them into a deal.

TBH, if I was White Rabbit!Reader, I would feel insulted or agitated that people are willing to take advantage of them.

Thank you for the request, I hope you like it <3

Part 1 with the characters interaction with white rabbit!reader

You’ve always been the nervous type. Jumpy, shy, the sort of person people look at and think, Ah, easy to tease. It’s not like you want to be like this, constantly on edge, always trying to avoid the next embarrassment. But that’s just how things are, right? No one really sees you, not beyond the anxious White Rabbit who always stumbles over their words and drops paperwork.

Everyone thinks it’s harmless. The playful teasing, the way they poke at you like it’s some kind of game. You try to smile, laugh it off, and pretend like it doesn’t bother you. But inside? It’s different. It’s not funny. It’s exhausting. Day after day, week after week—there’s only so much you can take before the cracks start to show.

As you fall deeper into your overblot, surrounded by thick, inky shadows and an overwhelming sense of betrayal, each of them reacts differently. They’ve never seen you like this before—never imagined you’d reach a breaking point. But here you are, consumed by magic, frustration, and the hurt they didn’t realize they’d inflicted.

Riddle Rosehearts:

Riddle is the first to react, freezing in place as memories of his own overblot flood back. He knows what it’s like to snap under the pressure, to feel like the world is pressing down on you with impossible expectations. But seeing you, someone so quiet and timid, become consumed by that darkness? It hits him harder than he expected.

“White Rabbit…” he mutters, voice tight, guilt pooling in his chest. He knows what it’s like to feel trapped by rules, but he never thought his teasing could push someone to this. The weight of his own overblot sits heavily in his gut. He had no right to let his frustrations out on you, to not recognize the burden you were carrying.

“Enough!” he shouts, not to you, but to the others. “This is my fault… I should’ve noticed.” He’s desperate to keep you from making the same mistakes he did.

Trey Clover:

Trey is shocked but calm, his expression unreadable as he watches the chaos unfold around you. He thought he knew you, thought you were just shy, a bit anxious. But this? This darkness swirling around you? It tells him how badly he misread things.

“I didn’t realize…” he admits under his breath. Trey has always been the ‘caretaker,’ the calm one, but he wonders now if his casual teasing and pushing you along without addressing your stress was a mistake. “I never meant for things to go this far.” He takes a step forward, hoping to pull you back from the brink.

“I’ll help you,” Trey says, trying to reach through the rage and chaos. “You’re not alone in this.”

Cater Diamond:

Cater flinches when he sees your overblot form, a deep pang of guilt hitting him. He had always laughed off your reactions, thinking you were just a little skittish. Maybe he even found it cute in a weird way. But now, seeing the result of all those moments, he’s not laughing anymore.

“Whoa… I didn’t think—” He cuts himself off, realizing there’s no way to make light of this. His chest tightens with anxiety, memories of watching Riddle’s overblot flood his mind. He’s always been the type to avoid confrontation, to stay on the sidelines and keep things light. But now, he feels guilty for not paying more attention to your feelings.

“I didn’t mean for it to go this far,” Cater says softly, watching the chaos unravel. “Come on, this isn’t like you…”

Ace Trappola:

Ace is terrified but refuses to show it, the smirk on his face slipping into something much more serious as he watches you spiral. He knew you were jumpy, but he never expected this from you. The thought that his teasing, his joking around, might’ve actually hurt you? It’s a hard pill to swallow.

“Damn… you’re really pissed, huh?” Ace mutters, trying to keep his voice light, but the guilt creeps in. He remembers when Riddle overblotted, how terrifying that was. He wonders if this is how you felt back then—small, powerless, cornered.

“I didn’t mean to push you so hard, okay?” he says, raising his hands defensively. He takes a step forward, though he’s still uncertain. “We’ll fix this, alright? You don’t have to do it alone.”

Deuce Spade:

Deuce’s heart races as he watches you overblot, his mind scrambling to process what’s happening. He never wanted to make you feel like this. You were his friend, and he thought the teasing was just harmless fun. But now? Now he sees how wrong he was.

“Wait, wait, wait!” Deuce shouts, stepping forward, fists clenched. He remembers when he lost control of his temper, how it felt like the world was collapsing around him. And now, you’re going through the same thing. “I didn’t mean it! I swear, I didn’t think—”

He feels sick, watching the darkness consume you. He knows what it’s like to feel cornered, but he can’t bear to see you fall apart like this. “You don’t have to go through this alone. I’m right here.”

Leona Kingscholar:

Leona watches your overblot unfold with a cold, calculating gaze, his own memories of overblot lurking in the back of his mind. He knows what it’s like to reach your breaking point, to feel like you’ve been pushed too far by the world around you. But seeing you, so jittery and anxious, transform into something so full of rage and power? It catches him off guard.

“Tch. Should’ve seen this coming,” Leona mutters, though his voice lacks its usual bite. He remembers the humiliation of his own overblot, the way it felt to be consumed by bitterness and frustration. He won’t admit it, but he feels a flicker of empathy for you.

“Don’t get cocky just because you snapped,” he says, stepping forward. “You think you’re the only one who’s been pushed too far? Get a grip.” But behind his harsh words is a hint of understanding. He knows this darkness all too well.

Ruggie Bucchi:

Ruggie’s first instinct is to run, to get as far away from the chaos as possible. But then he hesitates, seeing the pain etched into your overblotted form. He knew you were an easy target for teasing, but he never meant for things to get this bad. You’re just the anxious bunny who always jumped at shadows, right?

“Ah, man…” Ruggie rubs the back of his neck, feeling a pang of guilt. “Didn’t mean to push ya so hard.” He understands what it’s like to be at the bottom, to feel like people are using you. It’s something he’s lived with his whole life.

“Look, I get it. Everyone pushes you around, huh?” Ruggie says, his voice softer now. “But this ain’t the way to deal with it. We can figure this out, alright?”

Jack Howl:

Jack’s eyes widen as he sees the darkness surge around you. He’s always respected your timid nature, never the type to tease you like the others. But still, he didn’t realize how much pressure you were under, how deeply the teasing had cut. Seeing you overblot like this—it makes him feel guilty for not stepping in sooner.

“You...” Jack mutters, his voice filled with concern. He knows what it’s like to feel small and powerless, but he never imagined you’d reach this point. “I should’ve stopped them. I should’ve said something earlier.”

His instincts kick in, and he steps forward, determined to help you. “You don’t have to go through this alone. We’re packmates, right? I won’t let this take you.” He braces himself for whatever comes next, ready to face the storm by your side.

Azul Ashengrotto:

Azul’s eyes widen in shock, but a familiar pang of guilt hits him. Seeing you succumb to an overblot drags up memories of his own, the crushing weight of failure and inferiority pressing down on him. He had worked so hard to keep himself from feeling powerless, just as you had kept trying to stay in control.

“Not again…” Azul mutters to himself, his mind flashing back to when he was in your shoes. He had been mocked, taken advantage of, and pushed to the edge—just like you. But he realizes now how unfair it was to tease you, to make you feel as though your anxiety and insecurity were something to exploit.

He straightens up, trying to shake off his own feelings. “I won’t let you go through what I did. I’ll help you, White Rabbit.” He knows what it’s like to drown in despair, and he won’t let you be consumed by it.

Jade Leech:

Jade’s smile falters, his gaze sharp and observant as he watches your overblot unfold. To him, you had always been the anxious little White Rabbit, easy to fluster, easy to toy with. But now, seeing the raw fury and pain that has overtaken you, he wonders if he pushed too far.

“Fascinating,” he murmurs softly, though there’s a note of regret in his voice. He had always found your reactions amusing, but he never thought it would come to this. He’s not entirely unfamiliar with what it feels like to be pushed beyond one’s limit. But even so, this wasn’t what he intended.

“I wonder…” Jade steps forward slowly, voice calm. “What can be done to quell this storm?” His tone is smooth, but there’s a genuine desire to help beneath it.

Floyd Leech:

Floyd grins at first, excited by the chaos, but his grin quickly fades when he realizes how serious this is. He’s seen overblots before, but yours? It’s different. He thought messing with you was fun—seeing you all flustered and scared always gave him a good time. But now? Now, he’s not so sure.

“Oi, Rabbity” Floyd says, tilting his head. “I didn’t think you’d snap like this.” There’s a note of surprise in his voice, even a little bit of guilt. He knows what it’s like to be driven to the edge, to feel like everything is just too much, but he never thought you’d end up like this.

“Come on, don’t be boring. Let’s stop this,” Floyd says, his voice still playful, but there’s concern in his eyes.

Kalim Al-Asim:

Kalim’s heart breaks as he sees you overblot. You were always so quiet, so nervous, and he never imagined that all the teasing, all the casual comments, could push you to this point. He’s never experienced an overblot himself, but he’s seen it before—he saw Jamil’s, after all—and he knows how much pain must be inside you right now.

“I’m so sorry!” Kalim cries, rushing toward you. “I didn’t mean to make you feel like this! Please, [Name], I never wanted to hurt you!” There’s desperation in his voice as he tries to reach through the swirling darkness to get to you.

“We’re friends, right? I’ll help you! I promise!”

Jamil Viper:

Jamil’s stomach churns as he watches the darkness swallow you. It’s a feeling he knows intimately, the suffocating need for control and the constant pressure to serve, only to snap under it all. His own overblot had been a rebellion, an explosion of resentment he could no longer contain.

But you? You were different—or so he thought. Now he sees it clearly: you’ve been pushed into a corner, taken advantage of just like he was. A bitter taste fills his mouth.

He calls out to you, voice steady but not unfeeling. “Overblotting won’t free you. Trust me, I’ve been there. It might feel like the only option right now, but in the end, you’ll still be trapped—just in a different kind of cage.”

He takes a slow step closer, his mind already working through how to defuse the situation. “Let’s solve this another way. Don’t make the same mistake I did.”

Vil Schoenheit:

Vil watches your transformation with narrowed eyes, his heart clenched in a mixture of anger and regret. He knows all too well the feeling of perfection slipping through his fingers, the desperation to control everything, only to lose it all. His own overblot was a moment of utter failure, a lapse in control that still stings his pride.

But this is different—your overblot is not about vanity or the fear of fading. It’s about being pushed, teased, and broken.

He steps forward, his voice sharp but laced with an undertone of empathy. “Is this what you want? To lose yourself because of what others think?” His gaze hardens, but there’s a flicker of recognition in his eyes. “I understand your frustration. I’ve been where you are, and trust me—overblotting won’t make it any better. It’ll only steal more from you.”

Vil may be harsh, but his words carry the weight of someone who’s learned a bitter lesson. “Come back to yourself, or you’ll regret it.”

Rook Hunt:

Rook’s eyes light up with both fascination and concern as he watches the darkness surround you. He’s always been keenly aware of people’s emotions, but he never realized just how much you were struggling. He thought your nervousness was simply part of your charm, but now he sees how deeply the teasing cut.

“Mon lapin, such fury!” Rook exclaims, though there’s a softness in his tone. “I never meant to push you so far. I only wished to see you shine, but I see now that I have caused you harm.”

Rook steps forward, his voice gentle. “Let me help you find your way back to the light.”

Epel Felmier:

Epel feels a pang of guilt as he watches you overblot. He thought you were just shy, just a little jumpy, and he didn’t think much of the teasing. But now, seeing the darkness consume you, he realizes how much you were holding back.

“Dang it…” Epel mutters, clenching his fists. “I didn’t mean for this to happen.” He knows what it’s like to feel underestimated, to feel like you’re being pushed around, and he can’t help but feel responsible for not standing up for you sooner.

“Come on, we’re better than this! Don’t let them get to you like this!"

Idia Shroud:

Idia feels a wave of guilt wash over him as he watches your overblot. Memories of his own overblot come flooding back—the fear, the anger, the feeling of being utterly powerless. He knows what it’s like to feel like the world is against you, and seeing you go through the same thing? It hits too close to home.

“Ah, crap…” Idia mutters, running a hand through his hair. He’s been there, and it’s terrifying. The isolation, the pressure, the overwhelming urge to just… break. He never thought you’d reach that point, though. He always saw you as the timid one, the anxious White Rabbit that everyone teased, but he didn’t realize just how much you were holding in.

“I-I get it,” Idia says, his voice wavering slightly. “It’s not fair. None of it is. But you don’t have to do this.” He feels a strange connection to you now, and the last thing he wants is for you to go through what he did.

“We’ll figure it out, okay? I won’t let you end up like me.”

Ortho Shroud:

Ortho’s sensors flash in alarm as he registers your overblot. He’s never experienced one himself, but he’s seen it happen to Idia, and he knows how dangerous it can be. His eyes widen as he scans your vitals, detecting the surge of magic and stress that’s overtaking you.

“You’re overblotting!” Ortho shouts, his voice filled with concern. He hovers closer, his holographic wings fluttering as he tries to figure out how to help. “You don’t have to go through this alone! We can fix this! I promise!”

He reaches out, trying to connect with you on a personal level. “My brother went through something similar, but we helped him. We’ll help you too! You’re not alone, okay?”

Malleus Draconia:

Malleus watches your overblot with a calm, contemplative gaze. He’s no stranger to feeling isolated, to being misunderstood and feared, and seeing you succumb to the darkness brings up a strange sense of kinship. You were always anxious around him, always jumpy, and he wonders if he contributed to the pressure that broke you.

“So, even the White Rabbit has fallen to despair,” Malleus murmurs, his voice low. He knows the weight of loneliness, and he feels a deep sympathy for you. “You are not alone in this,.I will help you, as you have helped me.”

He steps forward, his presence commanding and calm. “Do not let the darkness consume you. You are stronger than you believe.”

Lilia Vanrouge:

Lilia’s playful demeanor shifts as he watches your overblot unfold. He’s lived a long life and seen many things, but overblots are always tragic. He thought your timid nature was just part of who you were, but now he sees the pain you were hiding.

“My, my… I didn’t think you’d reach this point,” Lilia says softly. “I should’ve paid more attention to the signs.” There’s regret in his voice as he steps forward, his usual playful tone replaced with seriousness.

“Come now, little one. There’s no need to let the darkness take you. We’ll get through this together.”

Sebek Zigvolt:

Sebek is taken aback by your overblot, his usually brash demeanor faltering for a moment. He thought you were just weak, just anxious, but now he sees how much pressure you were under. He didn’t expect you to snap like this.

“White Rabbit! Pull yourself together!” Sebek shouts, though there’s a hint of concern in his voice. He’s not good at dealing with emotions, but he knows what it’s like to feel like you’re not living up to expectations.

“Don’t let this consume you! You’re stronger than this!”

Silver:

Silver watches you overblot with a calm but concerned expression. He’s always been quiet, like you, and he knows what it’s like to feel overwhelmed by the expectations of others. He didn’t think the teasing would push you this far, but now he regrets not stepping in sooner.

“I should’ve noticed,” Silver says softly. “I should’ve done more to help you.” He steps forward, his voice gentle. “You don’t have to go through this alone. I’m here.”

Rollo Flamme

Rollo’s eyes blaze with a mixture of horror and triumph as he watches you descend into your overblot. The corruption seeping through your veins, the monstrous form taking shape—it only reinforces everything he’s ever believed about the dangers of magic, especially from those at NRC.

“This is exactly what I’ve warned against,” he mutters, his voice cold. He steps back, disgust etched on his face as he tightens his grip on his staff. “Another student, corrupted by the very environment they’re surrounded by.”

He glares at the swirling darkness around you, his hatred for Night Raven College deepening. “This place… it turns even the meekest into monsters. You should’ve never come here.”

Yet, despite his disdain, there’s a flicker of pity in his eyes. “ I had hoped you’d be different.” But that hope has been dashed, and now, all he sees is confirmation of his worst fears.

Dire Crowley:

Crowley stands frozen for a moment, his usual air of superiority faltering as the gravity of the situation hits him. “[Name]… an overblot? How could this happen under my watch?” His voice is laced with disbelief, but it’s quickly replaced by a sense of urgency.

“This is most unfortunate!” he exclaims, hands fluttering in a dramatic display of panic. “But do not fear, my dear student, your magnanimous headmaster will ensure that you are saved!”

Despite his outward bravado, there’s a flicker of guilt in his eyes. He knew how much you struggled, but he never paid enough attention. Always too busy, always passing off the responsibility to others.

“Now, let’s remain calm, everyone!” he declares, trying to rally the other students. “We must contain the situation! For the good of the school, of course.”

Divus Crewel:

Crewel’s sharp eyes narrow as he takes in the scene, the dark magic radiating off you in waves. He’s trained many students, seen plenty of potential disasters, but this… this is something he should have seen coming.

“Overblot?” he mutters, shaking his head. “Honestly, pup, I expected better from you. Letting your emotions take control? That’s a rookie mistake.”

His words are biting, but there’s a hint of something softer beneath them. He doesn’t pity you, but he understands the pressure you’ve been under. He’s seen students buckle before, and now it’s happening again.

“You’re better than this,” he says, his voice dropping lower. “Get a hold of yourself before you do something truly irreversible. Or do I have to clean up your mess, too?”

Crewel doesn’t tolerate weakness, but he’s not about to let you fall without trying to snap you out of it.

Mozus Trein:

Trein’s stern gaze hardens as he watches the chaos unfold. There’s no surprise in his eyes, only a deep, resigned understanding. “Another overblot…” he mutters under his breath, his face grave but composed. “You, of all people…”

He adjusts his glasses, his expression lined with disappointment. “It is always the quiet ones, the ones who bottle their emotions until they explode. I should have seen it coming.”

Trein steps forward, his voice measured and calm despite the swirling darkness around you. “Magic is a gift, not a tool for reckless venting of one’s frustrations. Overblotting won’t bring you peace, only further destruction.”

Though his words are stern, there’s a flicker of sympathy in his eyes. He’s seen too many students fall victim to their own emotions, and he knows that sometimes, the weight of expectations and pressure is too much for anyone to bear.

“Control yourself,” he says, his tone softening slightly. “You are not the first to feel overwhelmed, but you must find another way to deal with it.” His words are laced with the wisdom of experience, but whether or not you hear them in your current state is another matter entirely.

Ashton Vargas:

Vargas frowns, confusion etched on his face as he watches your overblot unfold. You? The shy, anxious student who could barely run a lap? He never expected you’d be capable of this.

“Whoa, hold on!” he shouts, rushing forward with the same intensity he brings to every physical challenge. “What’s going on here? Overblotting isn’t the answer! You need to sweat it out, not let it take over!”

His approach is as straightforward as ever, but there’s a genuine concern in his voice. He’s used to pushing his students to their limits, but he never meant for you to break like this.

“Come on,” he says, raising his voice like a coach urging you to keep going. “You’re stronger than this! Fight it! Don’t let the darkness win!”

Sam:

Sam watches from the shadows, his usual carefree smile slipping as he observes your overblot. “Well, well, looks like things got a little out of hand, huh?” His tone is light, but there’s an underlying seriousness that’s hard to miss.

He’s seen plenty of students walk through his shop, weighed down by their struggles, but you? You were always so jittery, so nervous. He never thought you’d snap like this.

“Hey now,” he calls out, his voice steady and calm. “You don’t want to go down this path. Trust me, there’s no deal worth making with that kind of power.”

He steps closer, keeping his movements slow and unthreatening. “Let’s talk it out, yeah? No need to let this magic get the best of you. After all, you’ve still got plenty of life left in you—and it’s worth more than whatever this overblot’s promising.”

Sam’s no stranger to dark magic, but he’s not about to let you drown in it without a fight.

Grim:

Grim's reaction to your overblot would be a mix of shock, fear, and frustration. Despite his usual bravado, seeing you consumed by darkness would unsettle him deeply. He paces back and forth, tail puffed up and ears flat against his head.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa! What are ya doin', henchman? This isn't part of the plan!" Grim yelps, his voice a bit shaky despite the tough front. He jumps back as the overblot's magic flares, eyes wide. "You can't just let that dark stuff take over! You’re better than this!"

Despite his fear, Grim tries to stand tall, though his usual cockiness is nowhere to be seen. “I know you're mad and tired of gettin' pushed around, but trust me, this isn’t the way! You think I wanna lose my partner to some shadowy overblot nonsense?”

His little paws are clenched into fists as he edges closer, determined. “We’ve gotta fight this! You’ve still got me, right? I’m not lettin’ you go without a fight!”

Masterlist

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redvexillum · 3 months ago

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@nyx91 I swear, my kinktober wouldn't be as sexy without your saucy, devilish little mind! Thank you for the request. I would like to dedicate this story to @ritualofcirice - as a fellow red flag connoisseur, this is for you bbg 😘

TAGS/WARNINGS: f!reader, established relationship, quickie, p in v, fingering, period-typical racism, period-typical sexism, dom/sub undertone, alastor being a lil shit

The music swelled around you, a melody meant to evoke elegance, but it felt suffocating, like a veil draped over the quiet chatter of faceless strangers. Their gazes pierced, indifferent yet heavy, but not as heavy as the hand draped across your shoulder, its weight oppressive, a silent command for obedience. The man beside you, your husband in name only, pulled you closer as though to cement the truth of your captivity.

Suffocating.

You had been sold like a decorative doll – prettily packaged, displayed for the highest bidder. Your smile, meticulously crafted, gave the illusion of perfection. But you and he knew the truth behind your smile. It was hollow, an empty facade to continue the play, an act, until you bow out for the rest of eternity.

You didn’t belong here, trapped in a glided world of opulence, where the diamonds adorning your neck felt more like chains than luxury.

You had everything you needed to survive. No, that wasn’t right. You had everything required to prolong your existence, to keep breathing, but you weren’t living. How could you be, when your life was confined to a sparkling prison? You were a possession, locked away, waiting to be presented as an accessory to those who owned the world.

Was it living to have your voice silenced, your soul stifled, your body surrendered?

Suffocating – each breath tightening the invisible noose around your throat. Your fingers itched, clawing desperately at the ever–tightening rope that cut off your air, but no matter how hard you struggled, it wouldn’t loosen. The weight of expectation, of disdain, pressed down on you, drowning you into the deep depth of the sea with unreachable air. You begged silently, for release – just one breath – but instead, it was stolen from you, over and over again.

The man beside you, the one whose touch made your skin crawl, let his hand drift lower, resting possessively on your stomach. “Ah, we’re still trying, aren’t we?” His laughter was thick, rich with the arrogance that came from power, but you could see it – the tension, the anger, the thinly veiled contempt in the set of his jaw. “Perhaps, by God’s grace, we’ll finally be blessed with a child.”

You saw their glances, their cruel smirks hidden behind masks of sympathy. You could hear their whispered judgments, each word laced with venom. It was your fault – you had failed. No child, no purpose.

A doll – that's all you were.

Thoughtless.

Lifeless.

Useless.

When their stares became unbearable, when your husband’s presence suffocated the last fragments of your will, you forced yourself to smile. It was a trembling thing, fragile and uncertain. Your hand rested lightly on his, a touch that felt foreign on your own skin. You dared to meet his icy blue eyes, his aging features seeming to grow harder under the weight of his resentment. “Dear, I...I would like to freshen up.”

Your words were laced with a tremor, posed as a statement, yet asking permission all the same.

His gaze cut to you, sharp as a blade, and for a moment, the world stilled. With a heavy sigh, devoid of warmth, he gave a single nod. “Of course, dear,” he said, his voice as lifeless as your own. There was no love, no affection – nothing but the void.

Despite the sweltering heat that clung to the Louisiana air, you were always cold. Cold, and drowning in a world that wasn’t meant for you.

With a controlled nod, you ascended the stairs. Each step measured, deliberate, though your heart pounded wildly beneath the facade of calm. You needed to maintain the mask, yet inside, your chest tightened, desperate for air, for freedom. The moment you crossed the threshold of the master bedroom, you finally took a breath – deep and revitalizing, your lungs filling as though for the first time all evening.

“My, it must be quite the tough crowd down there, cher!” A voice, smooth and rich with an almost dangerous charm, cut through the stillness. It was familiar – achingly familiar.

Your eyes snapped toward the source, and there he was. Alastor, lounging casually on your marital bed, legs crossed, his eyes inspecting his nails through his circular glasses. His brown hair, always so alive, shifted with his movements as he tilted his head, that ever-present grin stretching across his face.

“Al...Alastor?” His name slipped from your lips, soft and breathless, your mind struggling to form anything beyond the simple syllables. A torrent of questions rushed through your thoughts.

How have you been?

Why are you here?

Did you know how much I’ve missed you?

But none of those questions made it past your lips. Instead, your body acted on its own.

Before you knew it, you had crossed the room and threw yourself at him, the momentum forcing him back onto the bed. Your arms wrapped around his neck, your face burying into the familiar crook of his shoulder. That scent – rich black coffee with a faint metallic tang – washed over you, flooding your senses with memories. Safety. Desire. Love.

“Oh, cher,” Alastor’s voice was a low, intimate whisper, his hand tracing a slow path down your spine. “Right here? On your marital bed?” His tone teased, warm and dangerous, as he pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head, his hands roaming in those familiar, tantalizing patterns.

Trembling, you slowly pulled back just enough to meet his eyes, tears blurring your vision, smudging the mask of perfection you wore so carefully. “How are you here, Alastor?” you breathed, barely able to speak. Your fingers grazed his chest, lingering on the fabric of his suit. “This place...the security...” Panic began to take root in your chest, twisting sharply. “You have to leave – if my husband finds you, he’ll - he’ll kill you!”

You grabbed his wrist, a frantic tug to get him off the bed, but he didn’t budge, at least not from your force. Instead, he stood in one smooth motion, and before you could register what was happening, his arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest. His other hand gently clasped yours, a slow, intimate dance forming between you.

Confusion painted your face as he swayed, guiding you in time with the muted music that filtered through the floorboards from the party below. “Ah, I’ve missed this,” Alastor purred, his grin never dropping, as if the danger meant nothing to him. “You and me, cher. We used to be quite the pair at Mimzy’s, remember? People would come just to watch us dance!”

His voice was warm, teasing, dripping with nostalgia. You wanted to stay mad, to push him away. But your resolve wavered. “I was foolish,” you began, trying to sound firm, to mimic the cold, detached tone your husband wielded so effortlessly. “You mean nothing to me,” you forced out, but your voice quivered, betraying the truth behind your words. “After all, I’m just another loose woman,” the self-deprecating laughter fell weakly from your lips, and you hated how easily the cracks were revealing itself.

“Mmm,” Alastor hummed, his hold tightening around your waist. His grip was possessive, unyielding. “Is that what you believe?” His voice was soft now, a whisper in the intimate space he had created for the both of you. He spun you gently, his breath brushing against your cheek, sending a shiver down your spine.

You nodded, though your throat tightened painfully. “Of course,” you whispered, your laugh sharp, broken. “Why would I choose some small-time radio host over all of this?” You gestured weakly around the room – the polished wood, the silk sheets, the closet lined with designer clothes and sparkling jewels. It was everything society told you to want. “Why would I choose you?” Your voice cracked, barely above a whisper, and the tears you had tried so hard to suppress began to spill over, streaking your cheeks.

Alastor turned you around to face him, then his hand moved to cup your face, his thumb brushing the tears away as they fell. He leaned in, his lips grazing your ear, his breath hot against your skin. “Because, cher,” he whispered, his voice low and sensual, “no matter how much you try to convince yourself otherwise, you know deep down...you’ve always wanted me.”

Your heart stuttered at his words, the heat between you growing palpable. His touch was fire against your skin, burning away the cold of your marriage, the numbness of your glided cage. With him, you felt alive again – dangerously alive, as if every nerve in your body had been reawakened. You shuddered against him, your mind caught between the addicting pull of desire and the sharp bite of fear.

He leaned down, his lips hovering just above yours, his voice nothing but a sultry murmur. “I’m here now, cher. And I’m not leaving until you admit what you really want.”

Before you could utter a response, Alastor’s grip tightened as he guided your body toward the window, the cool glass casting your reflection into the darkness of the night. Only the moon, high and full, bore witness to the scene unfolding, its pale light shimmering on the wine-red curtains that cloaked you both in secrecy. The silken fabric draped around you like a veil, shrouding the sinful, forbidden moment with another man.

“So, tell me...” Alastor’s lips dipped low, his breath hot against your ear as his fingers pressed firmly into your cheeks, turning your gaze toward the window. The reflection staring back was undeniable – the image of two lovers entwined in passion, his whisky-brown eyes locking onto yours through the glass. His ever-present grin curled devilishly, brimming with dangerous delight. “Why do you look like a woman in love, cher?” he whispered, his lips brushing over your cheek in a feather-light kiss, warm and inviting, his breath sending a shiver through you.

His hand drifted down, fingers trailing over your skin with the slow, tantalizing precision that made your heart race. One by one, the buttons of your dress came undone, and with each release, the fabric parted until your white bra was fully exposed to the night.

You should’ve felt shame, knowing anyone who glanced up might see you like this – exposed, vulnerable, sinful. But when Alastor tugged down your bra, freeing your breasts to the cool air, the thrill of it only made your nipples pebble, sharp against the sudden chill.

“Ah, cher, you look like a woman drenched in sin.” His words were molten, dripping with heat as his lips grazed the curve of your ear. His fingers found your nipple, teasing, pinching, drawing a sharp gasp from you that you couldn’t suppress.

Alastor shushed you with a dark chuckle, his hand tightening around your waist. “Careful, love. You wouldn’t want him to hear us, would you?” The danger in his voice set a rush of excitement flooding your veins, every nerve alive with desire.

Immediately, you bit your lower lip, nodding, your breath shallow as you fought to keep quiet.

“Good girl,” he murmured, the words a caress that sent a delightful jolt down your spine. His body pressed closer, his hips grinding slowly against you, his desire evident, burning. “Now, show me how much you want me,” he breathed, his tone filled with a dark, seductive command. “Show me how much you missed me.”

For a fleeting second, you caught it – a flicker of vulnerability in his eyes, something soft and aching beneath the confident, teasing mask. But it vanished just as quickly, leaving you wondering if you’d imagined it.

Turning your head, you pulled your gaze away from the reflection and looked at him, really looked at him. Not the illusion of him through the glass, but the real man before you.

“I’m not allowed to want you,” you whispered, voice trembling as the weight of your emotions crashed over you. A single tear slipped down your cheek, and with it, the perfect mask you had worn for so long began to melt away. “I’m not allowed to think,” another tear passed the threshold, the barrier of unfeeling you had tried so hard to uphold. “I’m not allowed to love you, Alastor.”

The words hung in the air, raw and exposed, words you had never dared to speak aloud, finally escaping into the night.

“Then don’t,” Alastor whispered back, his voice low and dangerous, just before his lips captured yours in a kiss that stole your breath. You wanted to laugh at the absurdity of his words. How could he ask you not to want him, not to think of him, not to love him, when every touch, every kiss, every moment with him set your soul ablaze?

But you understood what he meant. He didn’t care, and neither should you. At this moment, with him, propriety, expectations, rules – those didn’t matter.

He spun you around to face him fully, pressing your back against the cool glass of the window. The sensation of the cold pane against your heated skin made you gasp, but Alastor’s hands were quick, pulling your leg up to hook around his waist. The clink of his belt unbuckling rang loud in the quiet room, a promise of what was to come.

“Tell me you want me, and I’m yours,” he said softly, his voice a gentle plea, his fingers hooking into the band of your underwear, pulling it down slowly. “Tell me to leave, and...” His breath stuttered for just a second, and he paused, his eyes searching yours, his lips hovering as if he didn’t want to finish the thought.

But before he could say another word, you closed the distance, your lips crashing into his in a kiss full of desperation, full of need.

You, the sinful, wretched, adulterous woman, wanted him - wanted him more than anything.

Your fingers tangled into the back of his hair, pulling him closer as your lips melded together, tasting, licking, savouring every breathless second of the kiss. A soft moan escaped you, the sensation of him after so long overwhelming every sense. His warmth, his smell – all of it was intoxicating, all of it drowned you.

“Oh, cher,” Alastor murmured, his voice a wicked purr, just before he tore your underwear away with a sharp, satisfying rip. The blunt, heated tip of him pressed against your core, rubbing in slow, deliberate strokes. He moaned into your mouth, his words a low chant of pleasure. “You missed me, you missed me.”

Slowly, deliberately, he pushed into you, savouring every inch, every stretch. The heat between you two felt unbearable, a throbbing pulse that only deepened the craving you had tried to bury.

“Al-Alastor,” you whimpered, your voice catching as your walls clenched around him. He filled you slowly, drawing out the moment, making you feel every single second of him entering you, making you remember every inch of what you had missed.

You bit down on your lip, squeezing your eyes shut as the intensity of it coursed through you. Your body screamed with need, the lewd moan threatening to escape held firmly behind gritted teeth. Here, in the bedroom you shared with your husband, you were pressed against the window, fucking another man behind a flimsy red curtain.

The thought sent a thrill racing down your body, but reality pulled at you, reminding you how close you were to getting caught. Your husband would come looking for you soon. You couldn’t stay away too long. “I-I-” you stammered, taking in a sharp breath as Alastor buried himself to the hilt, filling you completely.

“I know, cher, I know,” Alastor muttered against your skin, his voice filled with understanding. And then he quickened his pace, his hips snapping forward, thrusting into you with reckless abandon.

Your suppressed moans mingled with his, the heat between you rising, rising, rising – his breath coming out ragged as he kept up his relentless rhythm. He was close – you could feel it in the way his movements grew more desperate. And then, with one final thrust, he buried himself deep inside you, the hot spurt of his release filling you, flooding your core.

Just as the pleasure surged through your body, the door to the room creaked open.

Alastor’s hand flew to cover your lips, muffling any sound as his body stilled against yours, his cock still pulsing inside you. Your breath was stuck in your throat as the familiar voice of your husband echoed through the room.

“Dear?” His voice was calm, almost indifferent, but each footstep that creaked across the floor sent your heart racing faster.

Your eyes locked with Alastor’s, and for a brief moment, you wondered how he could remain so composed. His grin didn’t falter, not even with the looming danger. Your husband could kill him – claim it was self-defence to protect his honour, saving face from the scandal of an adulterous wife.

“Damn, where did that bitch go?” Your husband muttered under his breath, his voice growing closer.

You felt Alastor soften inside you, the remnants of his release dripping down your thighs, but he wasn’t finished. His hand slid down, finding your clit, his fingers circling the sensitive nub in slow, tantalizing strokes. His other hand remained over your mouth, stifling any sound, his eyes glinting with that familiar, manic thrill.

He scooped his own seed from your thigh, pushing it back into you, teasing your already sensitive core as you trembled in his arms.

And still, he grinned, devilishly, as if daring your husband to step just a little closer.

Instinctively, your hips bucked against his fingers, desperate for the release Alastor was teasing from you. He closed his eyes, a low, stifled groan escaping his throat as he ground his softening cock against your thigh, savouring the sensation of your wetness mixed with his seed. The heat of his spent length against your skin sent sparks through your trembling body.

You bit your lip, eyes squeezed shut, fighting back the moan that threatened to spill from your throat. The sound of his fingers working you, slick with a mixture of both of you, filled your ears. It was deafening in the otherwise silent room, your husband just steps away. The danger, the thrill – it was too much. You were spiralling closer toward the edge, your body coiling tighter with each stroke.

Tears pricked the corners of your eyes as you opened them, meeting Alastor’s gaze, silently pleading for him to stop. You were so close to falling apart, right here in your marital bed, with your husband in the same room.

If he caught you – if he knew – you couldn’t bear it. You couldn’t bear the thought of Alastor’s life in danger because of your sins.

But he didn’t stop.

Instead, Alastor’s lips curled into that wicked, wolfish grin that sent shivers down your spine. He pushed you further, faster, his fingers working you into a frenzy. The door clicked shut, your husband leaving the room, blissfully unaware. The instant the threat was gone, Alastor’s hand moved with abandon, his fingers rubbing your clit in maddening, slick circles. The wet, lewd sound echoed through your ears, the final push you needed.

“That’s right...that’s right,” he murmured, against your skin, his voice a low, intoxicating drawl. “Come for me, cher.”

The words shattered you. Your body seized, muscles tensing, your moans muffled by his hand. Your fingers dug into the sleeve of his jacket, clutching at anything to ground yourself as your orgasm ripped through you.

Alastor’s eyes never left you, watching every moment of your undoing, the dark gleam of satisfaction never leaving his face as he kept you pinned in his grip.

As your trembling subsided, and the waves of your climax began to fade, Alastor leaned in, his breath hot against your ear. “When you go downstairs, cher, don’t clean yourself up,” he whispered, his voice drenched with possessive heat. His hand slowly left your mouth, only to slip lower, fingers slick with his release. “I want you to feel me, “ he muttered, scooping up more of his thick seed and plunging his fingers deep inside you once more, “all night.”

Your mind spun, lost in the haze of lust as he pressed his cum-soaked fingers to your lips. Without a second thought, you wrapped your mouth around them, slowly sucking, tasting the salt of him and the lingering heat of your own desire. You cleaned his fingers obediently, your tongue swirling around them as he watched with a sharp grin.

When you finally pulled away, breathless, you hurried to button your dress, your hands shaking as you tried to fix your makeup and smooth your hair. Alastor slipped out the window, leaving you trembling in the wake of your shared sin. The tattered remains of your underwear did nothing to cover you, and the cool breeze caressed your slick folds as you stood there, still reeling.

Returning downstairs to greet your husband, you felt the unmistakable warmth of Alastor’s seed slowly dripping down your inner thighs. You pressed them together, trying to keep it contained, but true to his word, you felt him with every step, every moment. His presence lingered on your skin, inside you, for the rest of the night.

Follow #vexitober 2024 to read my questionable kink/fluff stories!

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the1920sinpictures · 1 year ago

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1923 c. Van Cleef and Arpels "The Florence Gould Natural Pearl Evening Purse". Designed as a seed pearl and white leather pouch, trimmed by a seed pearl triangular overlay, suspending pearl drops with circular and rose-cut diamond caps and ribbon detail, to the twin-rope cinch cord, gathered by rose-cut diamond roundelles, mounted in platinum. From 1st Dibs.

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trade-hut-direct-diy-store · 3 months ago

Link

DeWalt DT70711 Extreme 2 Metal Drill Drive Set, 19 Piece

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wnbnny · 9 months ago

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gone - b.c

genre: angst, breakup

synopsis: you shouldn't have married me. the words rang in your head, eyes widening ever so slightly as your fragile heart finally shattered like a piece of glass, the final blow delivered by chan's words.

word count: 0.4k (short drabble)

author's note: just a short drabble to keep y'all entertained while i write my longer fics:]

"why can't you just leave me alone??" chan was on the brink of exhaustion, and you nagging at him was not helping at all.

"chan-" you began, but was cut off by him almost immediately. "no! you tell me to sleep every single day, you call me 15 times in one day, you won't let me have even a single fucking second to myself!" chan's hands gripped at his hair as he yelled, gesturing around wildly.

"i just tell you to take care of yourself! you stay up until 3am in the morning, never eat and starve yourself, you never even say a fucking goodbye in the morning when you leave!" you yelled, lips wobbling as you felt all the pent-up emotions starting to expand, rising and rising until it was pushing against the walls of your heart and threatening to explode.

"do you know how shitty it feels to have a fucking husband that feels like a long-distance boyfriend? you don't even say goodbye, you come back at 4am every day, and i haven't even seen you in a month-" you stop, a sob threatening to escape, so you compressed your trembling lips into a straight line keep the tears in, though it was a futile attempt.

"well you shouldn't have even fucking married me then! i don't need a fucking second mother bossing me around every single second of the day! this marriage isn't even fucking working!"

you shouldn't have married me.

the words rang in your head, eyes widening ever so slightly as your fragile heart finally shattered like a piece of glass, the final blow delivered by chan's words. you could only stand in place, frozen and rooted in place, tears finally cascading down your face.

"wait- no, shit-" chan could only stammer as he watched your face fall, instantly regretting what he had just carelessly uttered.

"fine." one word, yet said with so much finality. the one word that broke his heart.

hand shaking, you brought your right hand to your left, finally twisting the small band encrusted with sparkling diamonds off. your wedding ring.

how ironic, that the symbol of your love would become the symbol of your separation.

you slammed the ring down on the counter, grabbed your coat and keys, and walked out the front door. he knew your heart was gone, the frayed rope holding your relationship together by a thread finally snapping with the sharp knife of his words.

you were gone.

#angst #stray kids #skz x reader #stray kids x reader #bang chan #bang chan x reader #bang chan x you #chan x reader #breakup #skz au #skz angst #skz imagines #stray kids imagines

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stirlingscornerblog · 6 months ago

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Discover the Unique Design Inspirations for Jade Engagement Rings

For brides searching for durable, vibrant, and sentimental gemstones, jade pendants are the ideal choice. Jade comes steeped in centuries of history and culture, making it suitable for sentimental brides.

Many people believed that jade could often cure its wearer of pain and had a lot of spiritual associations. This deep-rooted belief not only adds a sense of connection but also reassurance to your choice of a jade engagement ring.

Reasons to love Jade rings

One of the key reasons why jade diamond-cut rope chains are a popular choice among brides is their vibrant green shade. Jade, which comes in two types-jadeite and nephrite, is a rare and valuable gemstone. Jadeite, in particular, is highly prized for its rarity and vibrant color, making it a unique and meaningful choice for your engagement ring.

Most jewelers will tell you to avoid treated stones as they can enhance the appearance of your stone but deteriorate over time.

While a jade Virgin Mary pendant can come in a variety of shades, including yellow, orange, brown, lavender, and red, the most coveted hue is imperial green jade. This shade, which was originally reserved for the emperor of China, is a symbol of prestige and luxury, making it a perfect choice for your special day.

Most brides opt for a jade center stone with smaller side diamonds or a halo of emeralds for added shine and a pop of color.

In Summary

Jade is quite durable and resistant to scratches; however, it can scratch if roughly handled. To ensure your jade stone looks new and shiny for years to come, it's important to take it to a professional for cleaning, repair, and maintenance every couple of months. This responsibility not only adds to the value and longevity of your jade engagement ring but also shows your care and attention to detail.

#Jade pendants #Diamond-cut rope chains #Virgin Mary pendant

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ropesbypatricia · 11 months ago

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Let's tie my favorite hip harness for self-suspension + the top vote of my recent diamond hip harness poll: The Diamond Back

This build is a sort of hybrid between a Swiss seat and a hip harness and it's my go-to for extended aerial play. It can be modified easily to accommodate different body shapes and sizes and it's an amalgamation of many different builds I've studied over the years from many great minds in rope

1-3) To begin, I will tie a single column tie (SCT) around my low waist - I can begin with my bight on either side of my body

*take note of which side your bight enters from*

4) I have secured my SCT in line with my belly button using a Somerville bowline, you make whatever SCT you prefer. I pull my SCT downward in a slight V shape

*whichever side of your body you started with your bight to build your SCT, that is the same direction we will begin tying our first leg wrap*

1) I make my first leg wrap nice and high running just beneath my butt cheek in the back

2) I friction over and behind my hip lines and my diagonal leg line exiting toward my crotch and approximately 1/2" from my SCT knot

*experiment with the placement of this friction for your individual comfort*

3) To adjust the tension in my leg wrap, I feed slack behind me with one hand and receive it in the front of my body with my other hand

4) I pull my working lines downward eliminating my transferred slack

5) I make a second wrap of my leg tracing below my first wrap

6) I friction up and over my leg lines, exiting toward the outside of my body

1) I equalize the tension in both my leg wraps and move over my inner leg wraps

2) I move behind my leg stem

3) And I move across my leg stem, ensuring I compact down all of my frictions

*you can see I've created another intentional upside-down V shape in the angle of my leg bands, and this will allow for more freedom of movement in my hip flexor*

4) I added another rope in another colour for clarity, and I mirrored my pattern on my other leg, exiting across my front and utop the last friction knot of my first leg to encourage it to stay nice and compacted

The next element we will build is a booty rope bridge which will capture both my leg wraps in a munter hitch

1) I run my line along the lower half of the space between my leg wraps and waist wraps all the way around my backside, and to the opposite side of the front of my body

2) I run my lines from tip to base of my finger, at the front of my body where I can better see what I'm doing

3) I shift my tensioned line back and under my butt cheek

4) I cut across my butt moving lower than my previous band

5) I move from tip to base of my finger again at the front of my body where it's easier to see what I'm doing

6) I slide that line back under my other butt cheek

7) I move up diagonally across both of my standing booty lines

8) I friction over and behind both lines exiting towards my crotch

9) to complete my munter hitch, I move my line from tip to base of finger again, exiting toward the front of my body

I take time to equalize the size of my booty bridge loops by adjusting my munter hitch, as well as flattening my leg wraps so they lay nice and flat like bands which will be much more comfortable when we take this harness into the air later

2) I move straight across the front of my harness running right above my previous pass

3) I continue to trace my previous wrap to the back

4) I make a simple twist around the top of my booty bridge friction moving my lines from tip of finger to base

5-6) I exit above my standing booty bridge band, pulling up slightly to maintain tension, exiting toward the front of my body

1) I added another scrap of rope in a third colour for clarity, and I continue the build by moving directly across the front of my harness again utop my previous pass

2) I make a half hitch (HH) around my booty band placing it in my natural gluteal divot

*experiment with placement of your HH here for individual comfort*

3) I tension my HH by pulling slightly upwards as I exit diagonally up toward my hip lines

4) I capture my hip lines with a simple twist, pulling downward into another slight V shape, I exit beneath my opposite booty band to create a mirrored HH on the other side of my butt

5-6) I maintain firm tension and pull these bands upwards slightly before completing my second HH and exiting toward the front of my body

1) Now we will perform a very tight weave and create a reverse half moons friction to incorporate our mid bands securely into our front harness bar. To begin, I move across the front of my harness running my lines above all of the previous passes

2) Weave from tip to base of finger

3) Continue behind the other side of my hip lines from tip to base of finger

4) I carefully cinch and compact the top of my half moons friction, careful not to overly tension my top midline pass as I cinch, and ensuring I don't accidentally nip up flesh or clothing in my ropes as I weave

5) I move over all of my midline bands, and under my leg stems following tip to base of finger

6) I carefully cinch and pull my working lines away from my flesh and leggings

7) continue behind my other leg stem moving my lines from tip to base of finger

8) I move over all of the midlines again, and back under my hip lines following tip to base of finger

9) With my half moons weave completed, all I need to do now is finish with my rope ends

1) You can finish your ends as you see fit, here I'm simply splitting my working ends and running one is them through my original SCT bight

2) half a square knot

3) the second half of a square knot

4-6) a look at the completed diamond back hip harness

Click here for a video guide to tying this harness as well as a look at how it maintains during transitions in suspension

If you give this build a go, I would love to hear about it! Feel free to tag me here or on any other platform we're grooving together on ❤️

Knots of love from me to you 💋🪢

#shibari #rope #self tie #rope tutorial #kink education #suspension #diamond harness #learning the ropes #hip harness #pictutorial

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