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kwiyosin · 15 hours ago

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let's talk about childish jelous varsity!satoru :P !!

pairings: varsity!gojo x reader

synopsis: you help your aunt manage her cafe during your free time because hey, free food and you also get paid! plus, it keeps you entertained during game season when satoru is always training. you made a new friend too! student council president!kento, who frequents at the coffee shop.

it's game season so varsity!satoru is busy again. he's the star player anyways. you didn't mind though, not only you got used to it, you support him big time! of course you'd visit their training from time to time, but it's boring to watch boys playing with balls all day!

you would often help out at your aunt's cafe, it's near the campus, it gives free food, it gives you extra cash, and keeps you entertained. varsity!satoru doesn't mind either, plus his sweet tooth even loved the fact that you work at a cafe and alway smells like sweets!

what he did mind though, was when he decided to surprise you after his practice ended early, but when he came to the cafe, he was flabbergasted! varsity!satoru could only watch as he sees you in a booth, chatting with someone. and it's not just someone, it's the student council president!

varsity!satoru can't seem to tear his eyes from you figure, smiling and chatting with the student council president. he was only snapped out of his state when his best friend, suguru hit the back of his head. “get moving dipshit.” suguru says, walking inside the cafe, passing him.

“no suguru look! she found someone else!” varsity!satoru would whine, pulling suguru by his shirt. “they're just talking are you dumb?” suguru replies, rolling his eyes at his white haired friend. “but she's smiling stupid and giggling! she only does that with me!” satoru whines, again. “she does that with everyone, dingus.” ieri comments, pulling both guys out of the way, into a booth.

when the baristas got the orders for three people, you retreated back to the kitchen to help out. satoru did not notice it though, he's still whining about how easy you found someone else as he sulk at their booth.

satoru had his head slumped on the table, a huge pout on his lips as he threw tantrums. ieri and suguru was frowning at him. “look, i know i am very busy right now but other than that, what else did i lack!?” satoru asks his friends, earning an eye roll from both and a “maturity, perhaps.” from ieri.

“am i that childish? i know people gush over nanami-san for being so responsible and so mature. i didn't know my girlfriend would be one of them!” satoru says as he hits his head on the table. “yes, you are.” says the two. “...was busy for a sec and found someone else already...” satoru murmurs, slamming his palm on the table.

“whoa, easy there. my aunt will make you pay if you destroy her table.” hearing your voice, satoru immediately perks up, his head turning your direction. he was about to greet you but then remember he's upset. upset that you found someone else! he turns his head the other way, facing the wall.

“dumbass/stupid” suguru and ieri said at the same time. you gave satoru a questioning look as you placed the tray of their orders down. “didn't see you guys come in, by the way, sorry.” you says, trying to make a small talk. “'course you didn't. you were busy.” satoru, whose eyes are still glued on the wall, mutters.

“come again?” you asks, not really hearing what your boyfriend said. he did not reply though and he's still not facing you. you found it very...weird. “hey, 'toru how was practice? i thought you'd be done in at least two more hours.” you try to talk to him, but again, no reply. “suck it up satoru.” ieri says, so done with his tantrums.

“...toru?” you called out to your boyfriend but satoru kept his eyes glued on the wall. he wasn't even just looking away, he's literally sat there facing the wall. he looked so fucking stupid. yet you can't figure out why. “is he okay?” you ask, turning to his friends. “when is he ever okay? that guy has some screw loose.” ieri says, playfully rolling her eyes.

suguru sighs, looking at you with his tired eyes. “he's jealous because you wer—” “I AM NOT JEALOUS OF NANAMI-SAN!” oh. oh. you and ieri stifle a laugh and suguru face palmed. everyone in the cafe, including kento, has heard satoru. now everyone's eyes are on him.

satoru realized what he just revealed, although his words said otherwise, everyone in the room understood the situation. he could only stare at you with wide eyes, watching as you fight the urge to burst out laughing.

“i see.” you manage to say in between laughs. “in that case, it's okay for me to leave then? nanami-san and I still have a lot of matters to discuss about the council, i have a lot to learn being the newly elected vice president anyways.” you add, looking directly at satoru with your teasing smile.

oh right. oh shit you're right! satoru had forgotten that you're the new vice president! “don't leave. :c” satoru murmured, embarrassed at his own actions as he scoots over, giving you a place to sit. once you sat down, you let out a laugh.

“i'm not jealous.” he tells you, his voice dramatically low. “mhm, you're not.” you replied, playfully rolling your eyes at him. “dude you're embarrassing.” suguru and ieri said in unison.

𐙚 : short and crappy ik,,, :[ i got bored okay!!

plus i really love the idea of jjk hs!au i'm thinking of what roles the other characs should play :P

#gojo x reader #jjk gojo #jjk x reader #satoru gojo x reader #gojo satoru #jujutsu gojo #jjk fanfic #gojo fluff #satoru fanfic #gojo is stupid

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written-and-readen · 2 days ago

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Let Me Hear You

Jiaoqiu x fem!reader

Summary: You have to find a new way to relay your pleasure to him.

Warnings: nsfw (18+), fingering, penetrative sex, cumming inside, post-Wardance (2.5 spoilers kind of)

a/n: It's been a while since I've written for my husband

You’re not sure how much more of this you can take. Jiaoqiu’s loss of sight had made many things in your shared life different. It wasn’t until now that intimacy was one of things you had to figure out anew.

So, here you are completely bare and seated on Jiaoqiu’s lap. Like you, he’s shed all his clothes. His hardened shaft presses into your folds, which would previously have you begging him to put it in already, but you haven’t gotten there quite yet.

Jiaoqiu’s hands are currently roaming the expanse of your body. His touch isn’t as precise as before when he honed in on all your most sensitive spots immediately. Instead, his brows furrow slightly like he’s trying to map it all out in his mind, sloppily trying to reach every inch of you.

You stay patient while he runs his hands up your arms before coming down on your chest. A heat rises to your face as he shamelessly gropes your breasts, cupping them, palming them. It’s only when he pinches your nipple that he elicits a yelp from your mouth. His ear twitches at the noise. You figure he has to be playing with you when he quickly does the same to the other, trying to get the same reaction. Disappointment crosses his face when he doesn’t.

You bite your lip as he continues playing with your perky nipples. He rolls them between his thumb and finger, flicks them, and even takes one into his mouth momentarily. Only once he’s satisfied do his hands slide down your torso. He traces around your waist and hips before settling on your thighs.

Then, the Foxian leans in to begin nipping at your neck. Again, you’re trying desperately to be quiet as his teeth graze soft skin. A surprise push on your thighs accompanied by him reaching a particularly tender spot has you letting out a long moan, your clit dragging against his cock as he grinds you against him. His ear twitches again, flicking against your cheek.

“You know, I would like to hear you more, dear,” Jiaoqiu says.

“What do you mean?” You’d never been particularly vocal in bed, finding the obscene noises embarrassing. Jiaoqiu pushes you against his cock again, making you release another whine.

“How am I supposed to know if I’m doing a good job now that I can’t see?” You figure that’s true, but your face also flushes at the thought of him getting off to your moans. A hand on your cheek brings you back to reality. “You can just talk to me, okay?”

“Okay.” You nod. He goes back to sucking marks around your neck, noticing how you shudder against him.

“How does that feel?”

“G-good.” A slight moan catches at the end of your answer as he takes the opportunity of your mouth being open to move a hand to your clit. You feel his fingers run across your folds, no doubt noticing the juices that are a result of his actions and swiping them up.

“So wet,” He notes, “Care to tell me why that is?” A smile tugs at the edge of his lips. Of course he’s teasing you.

“You’ve been toying with me for the past hour. What else did you expect?” You mumble, but any answer is enough to please him.

“Well, I would hate for all this to go to waste,” He hums before pushing two fingers into your pussy. Your head falls on his shoulder while he scissors them, stretching your walls. “Tell me how that feels, dear.”

“Feels good—Jiaoqiu!” You keen as he hits just the right spot.

“Ah, how I missed you saying my name like that.” You don’t need to look to know how he’s smirking. You feel him speed up, and you shake when you feel your climax approaching.

“Close…I’m close,” You breathe out. At your warning, Jiaoqiu’s thumb presses into your clit, automatically pushing you into orgasm with a long moan. He continues working his fingers in and out as drops of your cum fall onto his cock.

“Good?” He asks with a tilt of his head.

“More than good.” You lean in to give him a quick kiss which he obliges.

“Ready for the next part?” Your eyes travel down to his dick, its tip prodding the entrance of your folds.

“Yeah, I think so.” The push into your pussy makes you think you spoke too soon.

“Such a tight little thing.” It’s Jiaoqiu’s turn to groan as he buries his length inside you. Your walls clench at his words, drawing another noise out of him. You start rocking your hips until Jiaoqiu’s hands begin to guide them up and down.

“How does that feel? Do you enjoy having me fill you up?” You can feel your mind go fuzzy as his cock repeatedly hit deep inside you every time you come back down onto it. Your inhibitions slowly start to fall as whines spill from your lips.

“Y-you’re so deep, Jiao. Keep going, please keep going.” He hums happily, tail swaying on the sheets behind him.

“Care to elaborate?” A touch to your clit has a symphony of moans reaching his twitching ears. He's teasing you. You know he's teasing you, but you don't care. If he wants to know, you'll tell him.

“I love the way your cock hits all the right places. Love how full I feel. I love you, Jiaoqiu. I love you so much.” Your voice slurs amidst the pleasure clouding your thoughts. His hand reaches to cup your face so he can pull you into a kiss, swallowing all your sounds. Your lips move clumsily against each other as he works your clit. Your hands hastily thread through pink hair, tightening at the same time your pussy does when you cum. Jiaoqiu can only follow suit at seeing you come undone around him. A gasp leaves you at the sensation of warm cum against your walls.

Jiaoqiu falls back onto the bed, taking you with him as you both catch your breath. You melt into his chest, twirling some strands of his hair around your finger mindlessly. Arms wrap around your middle, keeping you close.

“You did such a good job,” He murmurs to you, “I love hearing your voice, so grace my ears a little more often.”

#written by ray #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #honkai star rail #hsr #honkai star rail smut #hsr smut #jiaoqiu #jiaoqiu x reader #jiaoqiu smut

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notapradagurl7 · 1 day ago

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Fond Of You.

Black Fem! Reader x Kelvin Harrison Jr.

Summary: You were Kelvin’s assistant, and there were pros and cons to being the actor’s assistant but the two of you would be in need of physical touch. Crossing the line with your handsome boss.

A/N: One of my favorite one I wrote about this cutie, Don't forget to leave a like, comment & reblog to support, feel free to ask for a request! ❤️

Taglist: @planetblaque @megamindsecretlair @hxneyclouds @superheroprincess22 @westside-rot @yassbishimvintage @nayaesworld @henneseyhoe @sageispunk @pocketsizedpanther @writingsbytee @mymindisneverhere @ovohanna24 @novahreign @babybratzmaraj @avoidthings @slippinninque @keyera-jackson @nahimjustfeelingit-writes @blackmoonchilee @euphorichappiness10 @life-in-the-slut-house @miguelspvssy @liatreads @kaylaahisthebestest- @becauseimswagman1

Warnings: +18, dirty talk, praise without the word “good girl”, mention of burnout, consensual for both parties, fingering, dry humping, slight degradation if you squint, pet names, handjob, touch deprived Kelvin and reader, fluff, soft smut, sloppy kissing, a domaint reader, short fic.

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You sat prettily in the grey plaid armchair with your purple pen gripped in your hand, checking off every box on the checklist, dressed in a grey plaid skirt and match collared buttoned shirt, your ginger box braids tied back in a ponytail. Humming to ‘So Beautiful’ by Musiq Soulchild playing from your pink heart-shaped speaker, in the comfort of your home.

Kelvin sat on the armchair across from you, reading his script in his hand while he sang along to the sweet lyrics of the song, making you smile at him.

“What do you know about Muisq Soulchild boy?” You chuckled, flipping the paper over the clipboard.

You were Kelvin’s assistant, and while you loved your job, it came with its fair share of challenges. The long hours, the endless tasks, and especially the way your heart raced whenever you caught Kelvin's eye.

He was handsome, charming, and had a presence that made it hard to concentrate on anything else.

It was difficult for Kelvin to focus on anything else as well when it came to you, your smile, your laugh.

Kelvin looked up from his script, a playful grin spreading across his face. “What can I say? I have good taste in music,” he replied, his deep voice smooth like honey.

“Oh, so you're blaming me for your newfound obsession Kel? I'll take it,”

He chuckled, the sound warm and inviting. “What can I say? I like what you recommend to me, I like listening to you,”

“May I ask who you have in mind Kelvin?”

“Only you, you're the only one I want to touch me, Y/N,” Kelvin admitted to you, his eyes on yours.

You felt your heart race as you stood from your chair, moving toward him, feeling the weight of his gaze on you. When you reached him, he stood up from his chair and pulled you close to his clothed body.

“Can I touch you Kelvin?” You asked in a soft tone, a naughty smirk etched on your face.

“Of course you can, beautiful,” Kelvin smiled warmly.

You unbuttoned his shirt and unbuckled his pants while he unzipped your skirt, clothes littered across the carpet. Missing the warmth of his body.

With a grip of your hand, his brown thick dick twitched in response. Your hips buckled onto his crotch and he groaned from the friction. “Does that feel good baby?” you hummed, biting your lip.

“Fuck, yeah,” he groaned lowly, trailing kisses along your neck.

You’re so responsive,” you teased, your voice barely above a whisper as you continued your movements, feeling him throb in your palm. The heat between you was palpable.

He pulled back slightly, his dark eyes searching your face, filled with a mix of desire and admiration. “You don’t know what you do to me, do you?” he murmured, his breath warm against your skin.

You smirked, reveling in the power you held over him. “Oh, I have a pretty good idea,” you replied playfully, your hand tightening around him, eliciting a soft groan from his lips.

His hands gripped a portion of your ass, while capturing your lips for a sensual kiss. His lips were soft and plump. Tilting your head to the side to deepen the kiss. His fingers rolled onto your clit, sliding them into your pussy and you moaned wildly.

“Looks like I wasn't the one that was touch-deprived, hm?” he whispered in your ear, referring to your pussy sucking his fingers back in.

You stroked his dick at a steady pace, precum pooling from his tip. Lips suckling on your dark brown skin like a vampire, His hips moved forward into your hand, “Shit, baby, give me more,” you mumbled.

“Then don't hold back, Kelvin. I want you just as much,”

In that moment, he laid you against the cushion of the couch, he pushed his dick between your wet folds and you moaned loudly, he moaned with you at the feeling of your walls gripping him, inch by inch.

“Fuck, I can't believe that you're inside of me baby,” you babbled softly, gripping the armrest.

“Mhmm, does it feel good?” He asked you with a grin, pushing his hips into you, kissing your neck almost lovingly.

This isn’t a good idea but you loved every kiss, thrust, grip and scream that spurred both of you on, the couch creaked under their movement. He smacked your ass in response, “So damn beautiful…” he whispered.

His hips rolled at a rough yet fast pace, your wetness painted his dick completely. Kelvin hovered over you while watching your face contorted in pleasure, “It’s so good, Right there! Faster!” you moaned loudly.

“I got you,” Kelvin groaned deeply, his hands cupping your breasts. You grew wetter and wetter from his tone.

Hitting that sweet spot with precise, pulling him closer to you in a tight bear hug and moving your hips to that same pace, he kissed you passionately, his mouth wrapped around your nipple. Your head fell back onto the pillow.

As if right on cue, you came undone onto his dick and screamed out his name. A mess left on the couch, squirting on his adomden and he pulled out after cumming on your stomach.

Kelvin carefully picked you up in his arms, carrying you into the bathroom and ran you a hot bath, settling you in the tub while you washed yourself clean. He took a shower and cleaned up the mess on the couch.

After that, you knew that you eventually have to speak to him about this but for now you wanted to enjoy this moment.

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#black!reader #black fanfiction #kelvin harrsion jr. fic #kelvin harrison jr.#kelvin harrison jr. x black!reader #black writer #lion king mufasa #mufasa

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blackknight-kai · 1 day ago

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Hiiiii I love your Black Myth HCs! Finally worked up the courage to put an ask in ahahaha.

If you’re inclined, would love your take on a reader who gets very turned on watching DO/SW fight— maybe also wants to learn how to fight too? Cue awkward/flirty training sessions where DO/SW starts to realize what’s happening etc etc.

Even if this isn’t up your alley just wanna thank you for providing us with so much content!!

First ask in a while I know….thank you for your ask and I’m sorry it’s taken so long! (Side note for future asks - I’m open for MKR Wukong :) and I will be trying to get these asks done between work and my hand issues so look forward for more! Use my tag #bk kai writes to find my other Headcanons!!

Yes! I love this idea and honestly think about it a lot myself because my OC (generally) is one that can/wants to learn to fight depending on the AU.

Also, I legit fell in love with Wukong fighting Erlang in that opening scene AND I have a favorite move DO does through the game it’s…yeah it’s a thing okay? 🤣

Anyway!

As far as reader goes! (This is just one path my brain takes and I hope it came out okay!)

Getting hot under the collar watching him fight? Yeah. That’s happening. There’s something graceful yet powerful about him fighting. Every step is calculated from years of practice and every move made is times just perfectly. Sometimes there’s a misstep but generally? He’s so fluid with his movements it’s hard NOT to stare. He’s earned his confidence that’s for sure.

Watching the way he twirls his staff or even just simply walking backwards and while he may look almost relaxed you know he’s ready for anything his enemy throws at him. That self assurance is intoxicating.

And depending on what armor he’s wearing? Even better. Because honestly, watching his muscles at work is…well your eyes have a hard time looking anywhere else. He’s gorgeous. His grunts and noises of effort also start to get to you, making your cheeks warm as your brain images those sounds during…other instances.

Fairly quickly you realize you have a huge problem. You’re getting a little TOO warm under your clothes as he fights. Feeling squirmy and hot as he does that one move that always sends a tingle down your spine. You do your best of course to play it off later and calm yourself down but…at night when you’re resting? The striking image of him in battle plays in your mind and you can only hope he doesn’t notice. (Or notice when you linger while bathing to…..have some you time.)

Unfortunately…He can always feel you watching. In the beginning he wondered what you were thinking about, did he scare you? Did you think he over did it? Were you curious about how to fight? But after catching your awed stare out of the corner of his eye he realized you LIKE the show he puts on to some degree. And so that’s what he does. He likes having an audience and especially your attention. So while he may not know the full extent of your thoughts and feelings as you watch him fight (at first), he enjoys the feeling of your eyes on him. Gets him fired up even more than usual. Also….dont be surprised if he purposely gets into fights just to have your attention on him again.

The day you ask him to SHOW you how to fight? That’s one of the best days of his life. Not only does he get to actually teach you - which he honestly enjoys doing in general - he gets to be close to you. And you’ll know how to protect yourself if need be. Even better if you can fight along side him.

Destined One:

- [ ] Completely oblivious to what’s going on in your head. He just thinks you like watching him fight and are awed by him.

- [ ] Honestly at first thought you were kinda weird for staring so much until he realized it was in admiration - kinda like how monkey cubs used to watch him train.

- [ ] He won’t admit it nor show it but makes him work harder knowing you’re watching him. He LIKES your stare and likes showing off although again, he’d act dismissive about it (he’s glancing the whole time though to make sure you’re still looking).

- [ ] While he is always focused when fighting….dont be surprised if he accidentally gets a little too cocky with you watching or distracted. Slip ups might happen and he will always make sure youre safe and protected but dont be mad at him…he cant help it LOL.

- [ ] Sometimes though (always) your stare makes him HOT. His fur rippling and his muscles unconsciously flexing as he fights or goes through his trainings/warm ups.

- [ ] This confused him because that is NOT how he normally feels when someone watches him fight.

- [ ] It’s faint, but he also catches something on the wind that he’s not sure what it is but knows it comes from you - and it always makes his mouth water and his body temperature rise.

- [ ] Honored and tickled when you ask him to teach you / train you.

- [ ] Takes teaching you very seriously (for a bit). Very hands on and actually patient - most of the time.

- [ ] This beginning phase is a bit awkward mainly because well…he likes you but doesn’t really realize it fully - youre special to him that much he understands.

- [ ] Since hes not super verbal he’s all about moving you - with your permission at first but then as he continues he just does it automatically because it’s necessary for you to have good form and posture etc.

- [ ] This also gives him first hand experience with touching you but also….now he can be closer to that previously faint scent that comes off you when he’s fighting - he’s still not sure what it is but he notices youre clearly aware of him and after certain moves or him moving you around a lot that scent permeates off you. He slowly becomes addicted to it - and it makes him restless as hell so it takes him some time to adjust and get a handle on himself. Don’t be surprised if he cuts training short sometimes or keeps his distance a little bit - hes kinda….fidgety for reasons.

- [ ] He is a hard teacher though, while he wont be too hard he isnt going to be easy - he wants you to be able to defend yourself properly. So unless you are genuinely overly tired he’s not going to let you falter and stop your training/teaching. Granted…if you give him certain looks or tell him youre truly too tired etc he would let you off the hook - big ol softy. (This only doesn’t happen if there’s serious danger and you MUST learn something - then he’s going to make sure you keep at it)

- [ ] Over time his seriousness doesnt exactly stop BUT his cheeky behavior absolutely comes out - he’s similar to Wukong in this aspect. Expect tricks and mischievous behavior. Pranks. His smug snickers. All that.

- [ ] By now his teaching you is still genuine but there are times when it’s super playful and FUN. This is where you catch him smiling like a jerk or when he’s play fighting with you - sometimes with weapons and sometimes hand to hand.

- [ ] He’s adores when youre playful with him and while is face might not ALWAYS show it especially if he’s trying to pretend to be ‘Come on training is serious’ his tail sure gives him away with how its swaying and swishing happily.

Wukong - Taking his in a slightly different than normal way :)

- [ ] Smug as fuck. Wukong know’s he’s a sight to behold. He’s had many admirers of his form over the years and has taught many monkey warriors in the time he’s been alive. Not only is he used to the stares he’s used to the awe as well. That said, YOUR stare makes him feel the best.

- [ ] The first time he catches you watching him he’s not surprised. But he IS curious. Very curious. To the point of near distraction not that he would show it. He’s going to keep an eye on you from here on out, clocking every one of your facial expressions if he can.

- [ ] Wukong wants to know what youre thinking and sure he’d have ZERO qualms about asking you - he kinda wants to observe. Sometimes we forget how observant Wukong actually is with how loud and in your face he is. Wukong is a plotter and takes note of so many things and yes hes impulsive but it’s shown time and again how calculating and smart he actually is. So hed be watching you back but you wouldn’t know it.

- [ ] Honestly it’s not going to take him long to figure out that SOMETHING about what hes doing makes you squirm. Why? Undetermined. So he decides to keep up his little ‘trap’ and purposely shows off every time he fights or trains. Memorizing every little expression on your face and your body language.

- [ ] While he is…always a controlled chaos sometimes (just like DO) he might get a little TOO distracted and cocky and something not exactly wanted results from it, like you being kidnapped or almost put in danger - or he takes a hard hit.

- [ ] Your scent? Because let’s be honest youre getting hot under the collar watching him…hes going to register it fairly early on with how sensitive his nose is. But I feel like he’s going to lie to himself about it even if he kinda knows what it means. He’s old as hell and has been around many beings, his nose knows that kind of scent. But I think at first he’s going to pretend and lie to himself what it means coming from YOU. Why? Yes hes cocky and you’d think hed get smug (he will eventually) but at first he’s might not exactly understand why YOU hold that scent and why its in regards to when he’s training/fighting.

- [ ] This is one of those times where his general ‘uncaring’ attitude to things like ‘sex’ and ‘romance’ come into play. Not that he doesnt want that with YOU (he definitely dreams about it both sleeping and awake). Just….look hes an idiot. He’s a little blind to his own growing feelings and why would YOU want to roll around with HIM? - Not that he doesnt think hes handsome etc - we all know his ego is the size of the universe. It’s more, hes a MONKEY demon….Usually people only want him to ‘use’ him in some fashion if they hit on him so again, hes gonna be a bit blind - not for long.

- [ ] Regardless, he wont stop showing off. He loves your attention and preens for it like a peacock.

- [ ] Eventually might tease you and say something like “Why are you staring? Want to learn how to fight from Old Sun?” Or something and will be TICKLED TO DEATH when you say yes. He will act overconfident and smug but inside? He’s so excited to share this with you (and that you trust him to be the one to do it).

- [ ] This is going to give him up close and personal access to your normal scent which he loves, but also that special scent. Wukong has a lot of control over himself WHEN HE WANTS. And in these moments he exercises a lot of control. Why? Because you make him twitchy as fuck and his blood run HOT. He is a bit taken aback by his body’s reaction to you and that scent, having never reacted like this to anyone else. The more you spar the more he has to reign himself in - which might turn into grumpy monkey or him ending training for the day, or even mistakes.

- [ ] Might be a little too excited honestly to teach you though - so sometimes he might go overboard or be hasty with his teaching.

- [ ] He is one of those half hands on half ‘let them figure it out’ teachers. While he’s going to of course guide you and make sure you have basics and good form….hes also going to want you to run a bit off instinct. So dont be surprised if hes sitting up in a tree after leading some low level enemy to you and lets you kinda….figure it out or gives you advice.

- [ ] Make no mistake he is ALWAYS right there ready to step in. But hes a bit of a ‘learn on the go’ kind of trainer a lot of the time. Something he’s discovered with training his warriors.

- [ ] But if this doesnt work for you? Best believe he will adjust for you. Might have to fight him about it at first though and show him you mean business and that this way of teaching isnt going to cut it. At the end of the day he wants you to be SAFE and feel confident in your skills. So whatever he needs to do to make that happen? He will.

- [ ] He is a tough teacher in that he doesnt let you give up, give half ass effort, or slack off - Wukong has trained many in his time and while he wont be the ‘Monkey King’ to you giving orders he is serious about you learning and being safe.

- [ ] That said….expect shenanigans. This Monkey is a damn trickster and so dont be surprised when that particular trait shows up during your training or sparring sessions.

- [ ] Not every session is one of over seriousness either. Training and sparring is fun with him as a general rule. Mainly because you are not one of his monkey warriors - youre special.

- [ ] So be prepared for antics or some weird game of the day hes come up with - for an old monkey he is extremely playful.

- [ ] No matter if you just wanted to learn basics or wanted to learn further training your sparring sessions often devolve into screwing around courtesy of Wukongs mischievous nature.

Both: moving into NSFW-ish

- [ ] The more you train with him or spar with him the more he’s going to notice about you - and himself in turn.

- [ ] Your sessions are at times going to become charged with ‘something’, often times leaving you both restless at the end of it.

- [ ] Some days the energy is so thick between you that mishaps happen. Like maybe he grabs you a little too rough or in a specific sensitive spot and a moan leaves your lips - causing you both to freeze and then awkwardly try to navigate the rest of the session.

- [ ] Sometimes your sessions are a little more playful - doing silly things that make you both grin and chase after each other. Things most would probably consider ‘flirting’ or ‘gross’ behavior depending on who you asked.

- [ ] Play fighting is a near constant - wrestling? Oh boy….that starts off great until someone shivers and moans (or bodies grinding on bodies causing those special noises) and “now what do we do” - going into the awkward untangling of limbs.

- [ ] Touches when showing new moves or adjusting stances will linger much longer than necessary, sometimes you both get so caught up you really dont notice until some outside factor startles you both apart.

- [ ] What you dont realize is that most of the time? He has to exercise a lot of self control around you. Your scent and the way you interact with him sends his instincts into chaos - the amount of times he’s almost shoved you to the ground to assert himself over you and give into his own…new urges is staggering.

- [ ] Oftentimes you might have him growling against you - be it from holding himself back or instinctively making sounds as you accidentally brush against a sensitive part of him.

- [ ] Monkey is frustrated beyond belief though - you are too I’m sure.

- [ ] If there are others around you guys - they notice something weird about you two. The lingering eyes, touches, and sometimes awkward fidgeting you do (not in a session). And the tension is thick.

DO: NSFW-ish

- [ ] He’s slow but not that slow when it comes to putting 2 and 2 together. Granted, he might need an extra push. What that is could be anything from accidental grabbing, you feeling his hard on during a session, him causing you to bodily react to him.

- [ ] Wouldn’t be surprised if either he makes a move (unconsciously) and thinks he over stepped. Might try to put distance between you until you fix that immediately. OR depending on your reaction 2+2=4 in his head and “oh they want this, this is happening and yeah”.

- [ ] DO - is a bit of a shy guy though. So while he CLEARLY wants you and now he knows you want him - cue awkward behavior round 2.

- [ ] He may not touch you as much and might keep his distance a bit - why? His instincts are kinda going wild. This is a first for him and he fears overstepping (plus again it’s NEW).

- [ ] Might either need some coaxing OR he’s gonna just pounce one day depending on what YOU do (and your preference!).

- [ ] Sessions are more like foreplay now - sometimes still serious of course!

- [ ] Sessions devolve quickly in an instant - at first being as it’s new and well…you’re thirsty for each other. They are always charged and filled with anticipation. (Later when you’re not as in the honeymoon phase training and sparring is more comfortable and can be JUST training or something more if you want it)

Wukong: NSFW-ish

- [ ] So remember how I said he resists shoving you onto the ground? Yeah…that gets broken.

- [ ] See, the great Sage is strong. A pillar of strength if you will. But not against your scent and reactions to him.

- [ ] At some point he’d come to terms with his own feelings (something dramatic happened let’s be real) - and then finally allowed the idea that YOU wanted him back to fester.

- [ ] Sure, by this point hes kind of screwing with you - out of love - and probably doesnt help either of your situations because hes going to poke and pod at your reactions, enjoying every shiver and hot look you give him. The way your breath catches and how your heart beat quickens. He’s a bit of a smug jerk like that.

- [ ] But after time and time again of being subjected to your intoxicating scent and his instincts taking over Wukong finally snaps.

- [ ] Expect whatever he does to be sudden and dramatic. His restraint shattered - depending on your reaction to him, he may keep going or he may back off.

- [ ] Regardless he is going to want you to tell him you want him and what you want with him - consent king. Even if he’s impulsive he doesnt want something like this to be unwanted.

- [ ] Wukong is a major tease - so training sessions are a test of strength for both of you as he purposefully does things to get you riled up (and you him). Often ends with roam hands and mouths (and tail), or bathing sessions which turn into…getting messy and then bathing for real.

Small note for both:

- [ ] When he discovers - be it you saying so or him putting it together in his head - that you get turned on watching him fight/train/stretch etc…..oh boy. He likes showing off an a good day and now? He’s doing it FOR YOU. He fully understands your scent and gaze as you watch him and will definitely flex and train without much clothes on, on purpose. Will absolutely flaunt himself in front of you (and pretend hes none the wiser).

- [ ] Will tease you about it given the chance.

- [ ] If you notice he has a hard on while training/stretching/fighting - just know its for you because you watching him gets under his skin just as much as he gets under yours.

#black myth wukong #sun wukong x reader #black myth wukong x reader #destined one x reader #bk kai writes #journey to the west #sun wukong

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worriedvision · 2 days ago

Text

"...You kidnapped who?" - Neuvillette

Gender neutral reader, reader is Neuvillette's spouse. Because of some strange miscommunication, the treasure hoarders believe they are Kamisato Ayatos partner. I was planning on writing it as crack but it didn't turn out that way, happy ending at the end though.

"Tell us your husband's plans with the visions that have yet to be claimed." A treasure hoarded huffs, pacing back and forth in an attempt to soothe himself before going straight to harming you.

As a Fontainian person, your attire was very obviously not fitting of someone from Inazuma. In all honesty, you don't even know what happened to get you in this position. You weren't in Fontaine, but you didn't fully buy you were on land at all. You feel yourself swaying back and forth with a steady wave pattern, yet there didn't seem to be any boxes or barrels here with you. Just a solitary chair the treasure hoarder was sitting in at first, only to get knocked over in a childish fit when you genuinely didn't know who this Kamisato man was. You had heard vaguely of him, yes, however your work really did not concern knowing of these people. That was more Neuvillette's side of things, your husband, but he made sure to put a boundary in place where neither of you would talk about your work together.

"You got that stupid ring on your hand - which we have now got- uhhh wait, no it's not that one..." The treasure hoarder trails off, bitting his nails before shouting out a plethora of swear words before storming out.

When the door opened in his stomping out, you could see it was the morning - at least you could maybe figure out where you were if you weren't out at sea in the middle of archons knows where. You hear the treasure hoarder crying to his boss about the fact this was his first interrogation, and you can't help but laugh quietly at the absurdity of his comments before someone else enters the room.

"Sorry about that, but we'll have to keep a close eye on you." The treasure hoarder smiles, eyes closing as he does so before slowly opening his eyes. When he makes eye contact with you - clearly more aware of your attire - he opens the door to yell a 'you sure this Fontainian bitch is the one we're looking for?' Before closing the door again.

"Now, tell me the truth and you won't lose that finger of yours. Got it?" He tilts his head.

Hoo boy, straight to violence like the other one? This was going to be a difficult one to get out of. Knowing your husband's protective nature, he would likely be contacting people in Liyue and Sumeru to look for you before looking into things himself. Of course, he can't stop working but every moment he does get he chance he looks for clues.

Meanwhile, Kamisato Ayatos reaction was first laughter - what made this person think he had a partner, let alone a spouse? He would be dousing his partner with very obvious affections, to make sure people know his partner and not to mess with them. That laughter quickly washes away, and he just so happens to know Kazuha is currently in Inazuma - Beidou is likely there as well, so he immediately contacts them with his concern. It was a note to say you would be lost at sea in 24 hours if they didn't get details on the unclaimed visions from the vision hunt decree. Thankfully, the crew are more than happy to go out in search for you.

You were honest with your answer, and the consequences of not knowing the details the man was looking for, he starts to grab your hand, both hands shaking as he tries to squeeze your hand hard enough to break the finger. You look at the man in confusion, and his face is growing red - either from fury or embarrassment - before he settles for giving your hand as hard a squeeze as possible. He lets go,still not grabbing the ring off your finger leading to you sitting on your hand to protect yourself. The ropes around your body are digging in, sure, but you were able to move around a bit.

"Get me the anchor, boys. This one's not gonna sing." The man tells, you panicking when you realise he's going to throw you overboard. You stand up to try and run around the room, somehow successfully doing to as the man doesn't know how to cut a corner or even trip you.

You eventually get tackled by a team of three treasure hoarders, and they begin to pin you down as they start to tie a very poor knot between you and the anchor - admittedly, the anchor was heavy and it would drag you down. You realise you don't know where you are, and whatever these people wanted you couldn't provide. Realising the sudden threat, and you having no way out, you begin to cry and plead with your captors.

"Should've given us the information on the visions." One of the treasure hoarders tuts. After tying the knot, they've started to carry you outside, only to find out several concerning things.

On one side, there is a Fatuus boat, filled with several scary and smart looking Fatui agents. On the other side is Beidous ship, with a set of very angry sailors.

But worse of all?

Their boss has only now seen your face. He goes pale.

"That's Neuvillette's spouse, you muppets!"

That Fatuus boat just so happened to be in the area when they hear a bunch of ruckus, and decide to look in case this was concerning their group. Both sides of the ship get boarded, and it doesn't take long for the treasure hoarders to get arrested and taken in the Fatui ship to Liyue, and Beidou carries you onto her ship after freeing you. You cry out of relief, everyone staying silent as the medic got your hand sorted.

The next day, you stay at the Kamisato Estate for safety, where you meet Ayatos sister - and the two of you immediately become friends. You tell her about Fontainian fashion, and she tells you about Inazuma fashion before she gasps, asking her brother if you could get a fan from him. He chuckles, agreeing before returning to communication with the Fatui agent who had a briefing for him.

Clearly, the treasure hoarders were tried in Fontaine at your husbands request, and they are asking for a plea deal. Ayato disagrees with the idea, giving the letter to the agent for the deal to be denied with adequate proof that there were plans for you to die if you didn't offer information - which you were close to.

"_, I'm here to escort you back to Fontaine. Monsieur Neuvillette has been extremely worried." The Fatui agent explains, you are more than happy to get up.

"Not so fast. My dear sister and I want to gift you an apology gift for the misidentification that led to this." Ayato states, walking into a room before emerging with several items. A fan, a bottle of Inazuman water and a box of Inazuman delicacies. "I heard your husband likes his water, so I thought this would suffice."

"Thank you, Milord." You bow, graciously accepting the gifts. "Please feel free to visit Fontaine."

Upon returning home, you enter your husbands office. You can see he's passed out, so you place the gifts down on a nearby side table before lightly touching him on the shoulder. He shoots up, clearly working himself sick out of fear you were missing or worse.

"My Dear, you're safe." He sighs out of relief, before looking at your hand. "...Who did that?"

"...One of the treasure hoarders. He wanted information I couldn't provide. Something about the use of the visions not collected?"

"The unclaimed visions since the vision hunt decree has been lifted?" Neuvillette sighs, holding your hand delicately before slightly tracing the bruised skin. "They could have asked a representative in Inazuma, and would have gotten an answer that way." He sighs.

You look out the window, sensing your husband is upset as the rain has started up again.

"Please, I need you." Neuvillette let's out, croaking at the end before you sit on his lap as he holds you tightly against him, as if he was fearing you weren't real and the real you was still missing.

"...The visions that were unclaimed are being archived. It's a part of Inazuman history that cannot be sold." He explains, yawning as he nuzzles into you.

#gender neutral reader #genshin impact imagines #Neuvillette x reader #neuvillette x gender neutral reader #Neuvillette

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utilitycaster · 1 day ago

Note

So something you’ve mentioned in a previous ask about how some of the players have decided to play characters that are more go-with-the-flow or designed to specifically take a step back, and I’m curious if you think that the fact that those players (Travis, Marisha, Liam) taking on a sort of sideline role, has also sort of affected the party’s decisiveness and by extension of the campaign because of it? Not to say that they shouldn’t try that different kinds of characters because they should and they have the liberty to try it out for themselves, but with no one else to really step up, it leaves the party in kind of a mess.

From previous campaigns, Travis and Liam have always been hard drivers of decisions and direction, in part of the characters they play having clear goals or strong personalities in knowing what they want (Marisha I think this applies to more for c2 since it was something Keyleth had to grow into as a leader over the course of c1). In contrast, Laura and Ashley tend to be players who tends to be indecisive in the face of a decision because they don’t want to make the wrong one. This has been a through line since Laura as far back as c1 because I distinctly remember a Talks Machina episode where Laura talked about how for a moment she thought she made the “wrong” choice with Saundor, but then later on came to the conclusion that she made the “right” one.

With Laura and Ashley playing characters that are spotlighted so heavily in the plot of this campaign, this indecision weighs as heavily because they play characters are the hard drivers while the others (outside of Ashton) are reactive rather than proactive or for Oyrm’s case, specifically and deliberately by Orym’s own choice, more quiet snd sidelined. I think Travis has had Chetney to try and take center stage to push a couple times throughout the campaign, and I think Travis did it with Grog too in c1 when the party took too long to come to a conclusion and he would decide something to get the party moving, but there’s a lot of empty time and space on that stage in c3 where in previous campaigns someone would pretty consistently take that spotlight.

I think some players are generally more inclined than others to lead or be in the driver’s seat and some players who don’t want that position majority of the time, and that’s perfectly okay. It’s just a matter of experimenting with what works and what doesn’t, and I think for BH, it doesn’t. And I don’t think it should be a requirement from some players to play a specific role all the time, but I think it’s important to at least acknowledge it and comprise, allowing players to play to their stengths and cover others’ weaknesses to make the table and story flow and work

oh definitely. I think you said this well, and I think Keyleth actually did do a lot of pushing the plot in C1 specifically because she was in game terrified of doing the wrong thing and explored that. Keyleth was, even before they officially began dating, someone whose calls Vax trusted, and she in turn supported him, and that led to (for example) Vox Machina choosing not to ally with the Clasp (which a number of party members supported or were neutral towards) and going after Raishan immediately following Thordak, despite the risk. Keyleth was terrified of making the wrong decision, but crucially, she had a very clear idea of what she wanted to do - she just didn't always believe what she wanted was good, and that conflict is what tripped her up. She was extremely willing to go to the mat over such topics as, for example, pragmatic alliances with dubious people (Raishan); it's just that sometimes this resulted in her being overruled and having to put up with said alliance, and struggling with that.

I don't think it's bad to be a player who wants to go with the flow and explore personal relationships without being a major decision maker. I tend towards being a decisive player, but I do not think it's the only way to be. But this does become an issue when the DM assigns you the role of Decider, and it becomes more of an issue when other players, quite reasonably, had chosen to step back. And I will personally admit - I've repeatedly tried to play laid-back/chaotic characters in D&D and it simply fucking fails. I lack the patience to fuck around endlessly. This is also, frankly, why I don't personally dump intelligence: playing as a character who is not curious and constantly trying to learn about the world simply isn't fun for me. If I were at a table that was going through endless debates with zero progress or resolution like Bells Hells, I have to admit I'd have long since said "hey. Is this...fun for anyone? Because I hate it." and I do not presume to know what the CR Cast thinks of it, and I really believe that "it's our game" means "don't make that presumption" but I can say it's been pretty widely panned among viewers, and it is valid to say "you can do what makes you happy in your game but wow this sucks as a story." And so yes the fact that the people who usually cut that kind of discussion short have stepped back, and the people who are reluctant to cut that type of discussion short are the ones who ultimately must make the decisions is, undeniably, a factor here.

Honestly, I and others have called this the third character dip or similar things and I think it's fair to say that a lot of cast members are, or were, in this campaign, either playing to their weak spot or avoiding a party-carrying personal strength. Players like Liam, Travis, or Marisha (or, to give a few other well-known examples, Emily Axford, Aabria Iyengar, and Lou Wilson) are in my experience less common in the same way that DMs are less common than players. It's more work, more responsibility, and people are more likely to blame you if something goes wrong. And I get that it can feel like you are steamrolling quieter players, and I do think talk away from the game table is important to ensure you aren't, but much of the time, when I've talked to people, they've been like "no, I would like to play someone who is a huge dumbass who can go off and goof around [paraphrased, and I mean this affectionately; I am thinking specifically of my brother's sweet summer INT 8 half-orc monk-barbarian] and I appreciate that you are filling a role that I would not pesonally find fun" (I also specifically like playing healers/support and DON'T like playing burst damage).

I do want to note, and I did this elsewhere: this hesitancy is nowhere to be found when I've seen Ashley and Laura (and various other players who are at times less bold - Sam being an obvious example) play in shorter form works. Arlo Black is a standout in Candela; both Tris and Emhira were fantastic. This is part of why I think an extended short-form only break would be good after this campaign ends. I do think it is ultimately a flaw of the campaign for forcing Fearne and Imogen into these positions when I do not think it's what the players really wanted for the characters (again, speculative); but like, they are in those positions, and the time to have said something was a while ago. I mean if that's the theme - that it's unfair and unkind you shouldn't have to be the one who makes the choice - that's fine, but the thematically apt thing to do is to make the choice anyway, with intent.

#trolley problem except for every minute you debate the answer another random person dies #cr spoilers #answered #anonymous

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volturissideslut · 19 hours ago

Text

𝕮𝖆𝖎𝖚𝖘 𝖁𝖔𝖑𝖙𝖚𝖗𝖎

I actually really enjoyed making the nsfw alphabet for Marcus in my last request (Here), so here's Caius too and i'll be doing one for Aro later

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

While Caius is still attentive after sex, it really depends on how it went down. If it was a frustration fuck then he's giving you a long kiss in thanks and making sure you're okay, probably drawing a shared bath and finding a 'snack' to share. But if it was a quickie then he'll quickly pat your hair back down and make sure you look presentable again with a quick kiss and he's off.

B = Body part (their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Caius loves his own torso. This goes from his shoulders and chest, down to his lower abdomen. He's an artist at heart and something about the way your hand looks pushing on his torso while you ride him is picturesque. And that leads me to his favourite feature on you: your hands. He loves them so much, your hands are his obsession. From kissing the back of them, to watching them wrapper around his cock. From your nails digging into his neck, to you playing gently with his hair.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

When Caius cums there isn't much of it, but it's thick and a pearlescent white. He loves cumming in you plain and simple. Theres just something about the fact that part of him is in you that gets to him.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He really really really wants you to secretly cockwarm him in court. Just sit there with him fully sheathed inside of you and have nobody any the wiser. To claim you as his in from of these fools and have them be so beneath him they don't even know. It's a power move. And insanely fucking hot.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Before he met you Caius was a little bit of a manwhore in my professional opinion, and so i think that he has plenty of experience in bed. Of course none of that compares to you in his eyes, but his past... encounters... with humans and vampires alike all still happened.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Cowgirl!!! Enough said. The knowledge that he is in total control and still gets to make you do all the work is a bonus, but it's really about the fact he gets to watch you - oh so jaw dropping you - have your way with him. He get's to watch all your little reactions when you change the tempo, or how wide eyed and flustered you get when he unexpectedly bucks his hips up.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Nah, I can see him finding the moment relatively serious. Maybe not so much if you're having a giggly and fun little day but this grumpy bum has appearances to keep up. At least, thats what you'll say if anyone ever asks. Because in reality giggly soft sex makes his heart go all ooey gooey and soft. He could pepper your face with kisses and make bad jokes in bed all day, but shhh thats for your ears only.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

He's a well groomed man, not much else to say about that. He'd also prefer if you were too, but he is not afraid in the slightest to get his hands dirty and face the bush

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Again it depends on of he's in one of his many mood swings. He can be, especially of you hint at it. He'll beckon to your will any day. But he probably won't think to set it up all romantically unless it's near a special date for the two of you. And no, he doesn't care that the years all blurr together when you live for eternity. He'll celebrate an anniversary every year over the millennia's if it gives him an excuse to spoil you.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

As i previously said, Caius was a manwhore back in the day. I think this cheeky fucker has a high sex drive, and so it really depends on you. If you match his high drive then no, because he's too busy giving you the night of your life instead. But if your sex drive is on the lower side he'll have some alone time happily.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

BONDAGE AND WAXPLAY does this even need explaining? I can't decide if this kinky fucker is more of a masochist or sadist to be completely honest with you... Might also let you peg him

L = Location (favourite places to do the do)

His throne. It's such a rush to him to have you there on the symbol of his power and leaving him powerless with the way you're fucking him. Moreover, having you whimpering and begging for him feels like pure adrenaline going through his vains, as if he's gorging himself on blood and getting blood-high or something

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Any form of you initiating really, he's always ready to head back to his chamber and get freaky. Once you wore lingerie and smeared yourself in blood so he could lick it off you and he's never been more excited in his life.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Somebody else seeing you in a vulnerable state. Caius is incredibly possessive but he's even more protective. It's all fun and games playing it risky in the throne room until someone actually walks in and he tears their throat out. Could have this all have been avoided if you just did it in a secure location? Yes. Will he still rip off the head of whoever walks in? Also yes.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

I feel like he much prefers to give oral and instead of receiving oral he likes to receive handjobs. Please stroke his cock painstakingly slow with a fresh set of sharp nails on you, he mighty combust or, y'know, bust.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Hard and rough, it's sloppy toppy and animalistic. It's hedonistic fucking until you feel so good it's like you've ascended. And yes, he can switch to something more passionate and gentle and often will on anniversaries or if the mood presents itself, but dirty fucking is is fave

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

He loves them, and they happen all the time. A quickie before his next trial? Yes please. A quickie before his next meeting with Aro and Marcus? It would be wrong to refuse. A quickie before he heads out to battle? It'll help him think straight. You get the gist

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

He's all game, ready to risk it all for a good time with you. Well, almost anything. You tried temperature play once but now that's banned because vampires and fire don't exactly mix well together. But don't get me wrong, he would totally walk through fire for that pussy, but he once again had that protective side of him flare up and you are now banner from being within 3 metres of open flames.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Is this even a question? He'd spend the rest of his eternity fucking you with little breaks to feed or paint if he could. Actually, maybe he should bring that up in his next meeting... nah, he enjoys ruling and the feel of power too much. Though he would appreciate some more free time for some quality time. In all honesty, he's just a horny bastard.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Yeah, it's not like he's got a collection or anything but he definitely has his fare share for you to use on him or his to use on you

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Caius is such a massive tease. If Marcus is the advocate for overstim then Caius is the advocate for edging. Theres something that really ignites in him when you're begging him to just let you cum already

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Ladies and gentlemen, we have a grunter. Booo! But wait, don't throw your tomatoes yet. If you just tell him that you think the sound of him moaning is incredibly attractive and sexy he'll make it a point to be vocal for you.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

He likes when you get all dressed up and dolled up for him. Like a lot. Is willing to spend half the budget on nails, shoes, dresses, and lingerie for you because... wow

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Baby, Sweetie, Darling, oh, sweet child of mine. Good luck

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Even through vampires can't sleep, he feels so relaxed afterward. It's a 50/50 shot really, either he want's to be babied and needs affection or is pumped up enough to go slaughter a whole village

#x reader #headcannons #hc #twilight #twilight saga #volturi #carlisle cullen imagine #caius volturi imagine #caius volturi x reader #caius volturi #volturi kings #volturi kings x reader #volturissideslut

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salty-autistic-writer · 1 day ago

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"You have to take a break.”

Tommy startles. "Why? I'm fine. I don't need a break. I volunteered to take John's shift tomorrow .."

"That's exactly it," his Captain says, raising a brow, her expression serious. Unbendable. "I can see what you are doing, Tommy. You try to take every possible extra shift, working as much as you can. And it’s about to become a risk I can't take. I can see that you're exhausted. Sooner or later, you are bound to make a mistake. Take a break. Rest. Travel. Or see a therapist. But don't use work to avoid dealing with the personal problem that's clearly bothering you.”

Tommy feels like he's been punched. Panic stirs. Without work, he has no way to distract himself from the fact that this is officially the worst time of his life.

But right underneath the rising panic which turns into a desperate echo of what the hell am I supposed to do now? throbs guilt. Tommy can barely look his Captain in the eye. Because she’s right, of course. And he should know better.

In their line of work being careless and losing focus leads to people dying. It only takes one second of distraction, one little mistake, to crash a helicopter and kill people. One little moment can cause damage that can’t be undone.

Still. Work has been the one thing that had been able to distract him from … everything else.

After leaving the Captain’s office, Tommy is glad he can sneak out of the station without anyone noticing him. He can’t do the fake smiles and the pointless small talk right now. He just wants to go home, fall into his bed and sleep the pain away.

But when Tommy opens the door to his dark, cold and lonely house, he freezes in the hallway. The thought of being here all day and night makes his throat feel too tight. Maybe he should just leave. Leave Los Angeles. Leave California. Leave everything behind. He did it before. He can do it again.

He can run. Like a coward.

Tommy swallows heavily. He pulls out his phone. Once again opening the chat. Staring at what Evan wrote last. He has read the words a thousand times. Had his fingers typing a message. Only to stop. Only to delete everything again. Only to stay silent.

He can keep the words to himself. Like a coward.

Why does it hurt so much? It has never hurt so much before. Tommy has cut more than one connection in his life. He turned away, walked away, back into the loneliness that has always protected him. Now, this same loneliness feels like an abyss without a bottom. He should be able to move on. After all, he never counted on a happy ever after. Nothing good lasts forever.

But if he’s honest to himself, which is scary, he did want this to last. That’s why it hurts so much, right? It couldn’t last, he wanted it to last, but he didn’t want to see it crumble to dust.

He can walk away before disaster strikes. Like a coward.

Tommy sighs. He walks out of his house. Closes the door. He can’t stay here. Alone with his thoughts and their echoes. He can’t.

So he just starts to walk. He’s dead tired from work, but he walks. He doesn’t know where to, he just walks. He barely pays attention to his surroundings, only to the way his feet take one step after the other. His exhausted mind floats, his eyes fluttering shut from time to time. But Tommy walks.

He walks half-asleep until he vaguely registers the shrill screech of brakes being pulled too late and a flash of headlights cutting through the darkness. Tommy stops walking because he’s being swept off his feet.

#oops #bucktommy #tevan #bucktommy fanfic #tevan fanfic #evan buckley #tommy kinard

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writermani4c · 3 hours ago

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Me and the Devil | Count Orlok x Reader

summary: You're a nun at an isolated convent. He is in your mind, eating away your mind bit by bit, soon destroying the pillars of your faith. Until you have no choice but to surrender to him, he will destroy all that is necessary.

warnings: He's a vampire. Of course he doesn't have to play fair, does he? There is mind control and there are some rather bloody deaths. I don't think I'm really good with that, I don't think it's too heavy, but it's good that there's a warning.

:: We girls can't bear to see a vampire who is completely obsessed with a woman, who will spill as much blood as it takes to get her, and who has already fallen in love with her. I'm completely obsessed by Nosferatu, even though I couldn't get a screening where I live. This is basically my brain being eaten away by Bill Skarsgard's hunger… I'm always hungry for Bill, but at this point in time I could be kept in a secluded castle to give birth to all of his babies, and I mean that. I hope you enjoy this. By the way, good luck in 2024!

The high-pitched squeak penetrated the stones of the convent, seeping like moss into the soft, bumpy cracks in the porosity, and imitated the soft voice of a wanderer saying a prayer in a dead language, older than time. His understanding was forgotten by men, but that didn't silence him. That voice was still preserved in the air that surrounded you like a thick mantle covering a thick cotton habit, as light as the coat of a holy lamb, which covered you from head to toe in a sacred enclosure.

Through the narrow window of his room, all that showed were the orange Carpathian mountain ranges in the middle of a mild autumn, with the taste of hot tea and the smell of a fire burning in the evening, when the temperature dropped at night.

The mountain ranges and that stone fortress, far from the convent and yet terribly close.

Every day, the castle seemed to move. When you weren't watching it with your stoic expression, it seemed to grow tentacles over its foundation and creep up slowly. Depending on the day, it seemed further away, with only the tip of its towers appearing between the hills. But when you were getting ready for bed, tucked up in the modest comfort of your little room and wrapped in the soft blanket of your nightgown, the castle seemed terribly close to you, so close that you could feel its evil aura as you raised your hand in a vain attempt to touch it.

He was calling you. A strength, a terror, a hungry longing.

Come to me, my eternal beloved.

Tormented, you choked on your own breath. The deep, seductive sound of that voice crept under your blankets at night, and under the modest garments of your nightgown, finding your soft, easy-to-creep skin. His touch was physical, even if you often groped your skin in search of those hands and found nothing but loneliness, and intimacy. So intimate that not even the devil himself, cruel and cunning, could emulate such evil in his attempt to corrupt the Lord Jesus in his trial in the desert.

It scared you.

The feeling of intimacy that belongs to something, that is lost until it is regained. That invisible hand, as well as the voice that only you heard, shook your sense of self and made you feel the narrow mattress slipping off your back, the thin blanket sliding off your body and your fear of dissolving as you floated above the bed. A demonic, ghostly vision, with your eyes rolled back in a trance that nothing and no one could stop.

You felt it, more intimately than you felt anything else, and that was scarier than any of the other traps in hell.

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— My child — greeted the voice on the other side of the wooden confessional booth. The only voice you could turn to in times of extreme need. Father Lengyel was an elderly authority in the convent, as was Mother Superior Illés. If it hadn't been for that, you wouldn't have had the courage to confide in him your greatest fears, seeking the reassurance of his gentle voice. — In your praiseworthy stillness, I can see that something is troubling you. You owe me your ordeal, child.

— Father, help me! — Tired and sleepless after a night awake, with your knees against the floor praying to ward off the tentacles of evil, you felt your eyes grow heavy as you saw the low, hunchbacked shadow of the priest. — I'm cursed. I didn't do anything about it, but I know that the shadow that haunts me was born with me, wrapped around me like an umbilical cord that has never been amputated. I feel it and sometimes I hear its impatience calling my name.

— Fear not, my child. No shadow of a curse is stronger than our Lord's mercy on your spirit, waking you up every morning with a breath of life.

But maybe it's not our Lord, you thought bitterly. You almost disbelieved that God would even work in your cause, probably deciding to wash his hands of you and leave you alone on your ordeal. This thought angered you, wondering how God, your holy God to whom you dedicated your time and efforts to serve with blind devotion, could leave one of his daughters helpless when the claws of the nefarious one threatened to entangle her?

And anger, even though it was blasphemy with your Father, was easier to manage in your restless spirit than the fear that perhaps God hadn't let go of your hand. Perhaps he was there, following in your footsteps not long ago, weeping blood for not being able to do anything to prevent the evils that awaited you. Maybe there were forces greater than the salvation you blindly tried to reach like a child afraid of the dark.

That thought you swept from your mind, because if that thing was stronger than the Savior you were turning to, there would be no reason to be reluctant in its evil call.

— I beg you, Father, with all the infinite goodness of your being, pray for my soul.

— I will, my child. You too, pray for wisdom and that the Lord, in his infinite love, will bring you comfort.

When you left the confessional, you got down on your knees in front of the proudly erected altar. The suffering face of that poor man in his moment of greatest difficulty never comforted you, but inspired you. If even he, the son and Messiah, found the purpose to remain firm on the narrow road of faith, you too would find the strength to stay in the light. You would have to pass through that tortuous valley to have your healing.

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You weren't the youngest in the convent, but you weren't the oldest either. When you arrived, with your only bag with a few belongings and a photo of the home you grew up in, the home that always seemed unworthy of your torments about the terror that was trying to get its claws into you, there were older girls who took you in as a younger sister, teaching you the trade so that you could also teach those who came to the convent after you. This was the mission: you didn't serve God's pure purpose alone, but learned from your sisters so that you could teach others in a cycle that stretched out like an infinite patchwork quilt.

Among his protégés, the young Agnes was the most cherished. So young and intelligent, she was your faithful dog in the convent corridors. Agnes, who came from a poorer and more literate family than yours, found comfort in listening to you read the Psalms, the book they were given to study. Agnes' chubby cheeks and earthy brown eyes reminded you of the child you would never have, the one you could never run your hand through and love. The Lord was merciful to you in giving you a sister to fill that void and you gave her all the attention you could. Your beloved Agnes sat next to you while you ate your lunch in silence. The soup was thinner, to save supplies for the harsh winter, and the bread was smaller. All deposits were saved and all fasting was done in summer and fall, because in winter your bodies' strength was tested by the ice that seemed to be trying to infiltrate your bones. They would have to eat better to survive until spring.

Next to him, young Agnes choked on her bread.

— Eat slowly.

— Pardon me, sister! — She stopped eating, lowering her head as if she expected to be punished. You smiled, running your hand over your protégé's head.

— Don't be like that. I'm talking for your own good, chew better, it also helps to fill your stomach.

The girl turned her face towards you with a soft, youthful smile.

A low, loud sound caught their attention. It was as if the ceiling had broken, so you looked up in doubt, but it seemed as firm as ever. Surprised gasps and the sound of footsteps moving across the stone floor made you stand up and look around, at the shocked faces of your sisters.

— Stay behind me, Agnes. — You stood in front of the girl, shielding her with your body, while you searched for the cause of the commotion among the others.

Another thud made you find the source of the terror. Your older sister, a girl so genuinely kind that she wouldn't mind giving up her own shoes and going barefoot if she had to. Olga. Olga, who was so generous that she always presented the others with little embroideries on old linen handkerchiefs, making them priceless pieces. Olga who hugged you as soon as you arrived, immensely happy as if you were a relative she hadn't seen for years and who was returning home. Your beloved sister Olga's nose was covered in blood and her front teeth were in an equally miserable state. Her blue eyes were completely covered by dark pupils, making them animalistic as she looked around at the familiar faces until she stopped at you.

She gritted her teeth painfully, teasing the veins in her neck. Olga no longer knew you. She didn't look at you like her younger sister, but with anger.

— Ungrateful! Damn you! — She pointed her slender, cocked forefinger, the knuckles seeming to ache with the effort. — Ungrateful and damned, unfortunate creature! Look what I do to what you love so much, look what I do to the object of your efforts!

Olga moved her face away from the table enough to almost fall backwards, gripping the edge of the table with her fingers tightly, before putting all her strength forward and, with a hollow sound of something breaking, smashing her nose against the wooden table. The noise tore you apart. Young Agnes' arms wrapped tightly around your waist as you pushed her back.

Mother Illés rushed into the dining hall.

She gave you an appeasing look and you understood. With agility, you gathered all the younger girls, totally terrified, and asked them to follow you out while Olga, surrounded and supported by her older sisters, screamed:

— Love me! Devote yourself to me! Command me if you wish, but don't ignore me, my beloved, don't deny me, for I am your lord and savior! I am the master of your pure and tormented soul, my beloved!

But you, terrified, denied his call once again. You covered your ears as you led the girls into the courtyard outside. The dry autumn wind enveloped you, your voices, but did nothing to muffle the terror in your minds. Little Agnes was still wrapped tightly in your body and soon the others followed suit, seeking warmth in your shivering, freezing body. Concentrating on them, on reassuring them, took your mind off the torturous thought that, yes, he was impatient.

All those years of “tranquility” were his gift, his way of making you surrender voluntarily. But he was lonely. He was hungry.

Now he controlled Olga's body.

But not just her.

That same night, while Olga was tied to her bed under the watchful eye of Mother Illés, Annabeth began to dance as she blew out the candles. You didn't see it, you were busy with your chores, but the others saw it and told you about it in sad, frightened voices. Annabeth, so young and playful, began to twirl around and the others thought she was just playing. The girl liked to play games, hiding pine cones under her pillows and little flowers in the sleeves of her habits.

She spun around mesmerized, spinning faster and faster and more violently. Her feet seemed bewitched and she suffered without even being able to move her mouth to do so, her teeth clenched in a painful grind as her jaw unhinged. The candles on the altar grew, fueled by something supernatural and unworthy, dancing along with young Annabeth.

That macabre dance ended in a tableau and the flames touching the young woman's habit. The fire consumed her without anyone being able to put it out; no amount of water could stop the flames. They consumed Annabeth until there was nothing left. In her death, she said nothing, but tearing her clothes to get rid of the fire, her name was torn into the soft skin of my body. Her name was everywhere, written with love, sorrow and anger. Like a love-hate letter, he wrote to you through the skin of an innocent girl.

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You hadn't slept a wink for three nights.

At the slightest sign of unconsciousness, as you blinked your eyes a little more slowly, it was as if he was lurking there waiting to take you, and this made you resist even though your body could barely stand.

The mother didn't let you take part in the funeral, allowing you only a brief farewell before you were taken to your chambers to rest.

You didn't want to rest.

Even so, you didn't have the strength to move. Perhaps it was tiredness or apathy, the feeling that all your efforts were useless.You lay there in your narrow bed, watching the day fade away through the shadows on the wall.

The night was his territory.

Night was when he hid in the wind and entered his room.

Even though he wanted to, there was no voice in his throat to scream and a hot tear ran down his left eye.

The door to his room opened and, to his relief, Father Lengyel entered his room. The black cloak swirled solemnly around him, like something divine coming to his rescue.

— What ails you, my dear!

— A large, slender hand, smelling of scrubbed earth, touched his face. There was a certain softness to it, even though the ice in your palms made you sigh with the thermal shock. — My poor little lamb!

The man held your face lovingly, with such care that you simply let go, allowing yourself to cry in dismay at his attentive care. Father Lengyel, so small and twisted, sat on the edge of your bed. A candle burned on the chair on the other side of the room, the glow of the fire casting shadows on the wall next to your bed and leaving you cloaked in that lonely corner. Father Lengyel kissed your cheek, with those closed, dead lips, so cold they made you shiver.

— Father!

— Poor creature!

— My shadow is growing. — You confessed, leaning your face on the old man's hand. — My shadow consumed poor Olga and Annabeth, casting them into the valley of the storm.

Father Lengyel pulled the blanket away from your body and, in the narrow space that barely fit a body, he lay down with you. Your eyes widened as the man pressed himself against your body. The man you had always seen as a loving and attentive father, a listener incapable of the slightest judgment, lay beside you with the warmth of a lover.

— You curse us all, my sweet. — His mouth curved into a smile that only reflected darkness. — Everyone, everyone, everyone. My eyes, so blessed with the beauty of your soft skin and childish eyes, your sweet mouth and the shaggy strands of your eyebrows, became the object of his dark admirer's envy and, look, what he did to me.

In the short distance between your faces, that distance you wanted to increase at all costs, you could make out the old man's wrinkled features. His withered cheeks, the corners of his eyes creased by years and years of study and service to the church. His thinning hair was pearly white on his straight head, with little spots like freckles. The eyes, previously blue, weren't there.

In their place, there was the emptiness of two hollow holes whose darkness seemed to feed with pleasure.

The priest smiled in her direction.

— Smile, my dear. Who else in the world would be as adored and cherished as you? What other soul would be as worthy of all the fascination of eyes that have seen the rise and fall of empires as the rising and setting of the sun? There are worse ways to live. In complete ignorance, never seen and never remembered, gradually rotting away like this old man.

In an unknown breath, you felt the instinct to fight with the same strength as the archangels as you sat up in bed, your body trembling from the effort. The priest continued to lie there, moaning with satisfaction as he enjoyed the smell of your hair against the pillow where you had shed your tears.

He was totally possessed. The evil had taken hold of the most benevolent man you've ever had the pleasure of knowing, save only his own father, a man so generous that he gave up his beloved daughter to the care of a convent without ever doubting his desires to follow a holy life. All was lost.

You got out of bed, your legs wobbly as you dragged yourself out of the room. There were few lit candles and a long corridor. Carefully, you hugged your body and left your quarters, dreading the next demonic sight you would encounter on your way.

The convent seemed more alive than ever. A complete organism. The walls moved as it breathed and guided you in silence, the cold accompanying you like a guardian, a raven on your sullen shoulders. The moon was high in the sky, its pearly glow illuminating what not even candle flames could touch. And you walked, leaning on the walls, groping for balance. In the dining hall, where Olga's blood was embedded in the wood of one of the tables, you saw the shadows of the feet of all your beloved sisters and your devoted mother.

They all floated solemnly, with ropes around their necks. They all looked at you with pupils consumed by darkness and wide smiles, so big that they seemed to rejoice in your presence.

— My beloved! — cried Clara.

— Beacon of my darkness! — said Lucia.

— Don't you see, my beloved?

With dread, you walked around the tables, looking into their faces. Every single one of them. The rope wasn't taut, they were floating under the invisible force that kept them alive only for a brief moment. Just long enough for you to see them, to remember their names and their faces, their voices, their lives and their untouchable faith. Because they, like your Savior, had no power to stop the terrors you were cursed with at birth.

As soon as your cry marked his arrival in this rotten, petty and cheap world, he also felt the pain in his chest, where his lungs were supposed to work. Your soft cry marked the raw, lifeless gasp of the thing that woke up to take in its big, slender hands what was rightfully its: that poor soul, which had never found a single day's peace, shrouded in the melancholy of that fateful encounter.

Nothing could stop her soul from touching him, much less his emptiness from possessing her soul.

It was a perfect fit, an unspoken agreement between heaven and hell. God, all merciful, gave you up for the greater good. You were eternally linked.

And your sisters, mother and father paid the price for coming between the two of you, for taking you away from your true home and your true master. They filled your days with their miserable little lives, with miserable knowledge, with miserable privations for such... miserable glory.

— I have set you free, my beloved. I have loosened the nails that bound you to your cross. — Murmured the mother, with jubilant eyes, cheeks streaked with sweet tears. Your stern and beneficent mother. — My obsession is the key to this filthy, worthless prison. Come, darling, and enjoy with me all the pleasures you've been denied. Come quickly, my beloved, put an end to my loneliness.

His shadow has grown over you, outside in the courtyard.

— Spare them! I beg you! — Her voice roared over the tearful smiles of her sisters. Young Agnes wiggled her legs, looking at you with that untouched childish gaze, as if she were throwing herself into dense fluffy clouds and not into the abyss of death, into the blackness of darkness. — Spare them and I'll follow you without looking back. I will never desire anything other than your company, nor will I follow any other path than the one your feet once trod.

Your sisters' laughter exploded through the high ceiling, laden with a mockery that didn't belong to them.

Bewitched, they all looked down at you with equal dark amusement, their voices blending together like a spiral that drained the strength from your legs.

— Don't you understand yet, my holy lamb? — Smiled sweet Agnes. — There's no bargaining. Whether they live or die, you will still be mine.Even in death, I will pull you back and chain you to me. I myself have suffered many years of being bound to the prison of my desires for you, waiting for you for countless years, feeling the weight of your rejection, cruel lover.

— But you love me, don't you?

— Every part of me to every part of you, my sweetness.

— So give me these gifts. Spare my beloved sisters, my fellow human beings, those sweet women with pure hearts who have guarded me long enough for you to come and take your rightful possession. They are not guilty, but guardians. — On your knees, you clasped your hands to your chest, begging the devil for mercy. — I know I wasn't good to you, I was insensitive to your call, but they are not to blame.You'll have all my devotion if you spare them, but if you kill them, even though you have my body and my spirit, you'll never have a drop of my attention.

The silence of the souls hanging from the ceiling of the convent refectory echoed their inconsolable weeping.Thick tears and a plea so strong that it could make the souls turn over in their graves.

The doors opened in a rush, letting the cold wind enter the dining hall.

For the first time, under the ethereal light of the moon, as if in a macabre mixture of dream and nightmare intertwined by the thin veil of unconsciousness, you saw it.Not its aura or its agonized call, you saw the creature with your own eyes.

You, who know so little about men, had never seen such a figure.

So tall that you had to stoop to pass through the door that you would walk through without any difficulty.Eyes so deep that no light could reach them. A face hardened by the spectre of death, with a long nose and a thick moustache of a deep shade of black.He entered the sacred ground with equal parts ease and pain, each step a necessary torture to reach the object of his desire. The soul he so coveted in his millennial solitude, forgotten by the world, completely abandoned under the promise of a single soul that the heavens did not claim, a soul he could corrupt at will.

Yours to devour, he thought at first, perhaps resentful that he was also chained to a lowly mortal, a wandering and very basic creature. Yours to torment, he thought, when you were very young and saw his shadow in your room for the first time. Yours to worship, he realized now, pulling her by her bare arms to stand up.

The creature, hungry for something, for some compensation for its endless loneliness, brought its face close to his and, with a touch of malice, stuck out its tongue, licking the length of his tears with its cold, inhuman breath.

— I thought you'd wait for me in your habit, my beloved.I was particularly looking forward to it. — He lowered his cold, vile gaze, delving into the shape of your body beneath the nightgown with which you were forced to rest, a fabric so thin of light cotton that it hung down your body, revealing through the worn nature of the fabric the color of your stiff nipples against the fabric. He gasped with pleasure. — But what unparalleled pleasure it is to see you in such intimate attire, my eternal obsession.

His hands, holding her face, were huge, with large, aged nails. Nails that would have dug into the earth to escape the grave. Their coldness was uncomfortable, but, given the horrors in your mind, you found yourself accepting their touch as a shred of comfort.

It destroyed your sanity, that it would at least give you the soothing balm of a caress.

— Please! — you sighed with a breath, a breath as anguished as it was tired.

Your hands touched his, your eyes full of life and fear threatened his darkness with such a benevolent request, something the creature had never witnessed.

Those like you, mortals, used to beg for mercy on your own life, on your knees and with the greatest promises of riches and pleasures.And here you were, a soul who would never reach heaven, asking for mercy for others when it was your fate that was at stake.

How he loved you! How he hated you!

— Treating it as my personal gift and demonstration of my esteem, these women live by my ability to have mercy on the requests of your heart. — He approached your warmth, the steady rhythm of your heartbeat, the salt of your feverish skin. All his vitality was more than banal desire, he was madly fissured by every cell of his anatomy, every rudimentary bit of his mortal Anatomy, and so doomed to the horrors of putrefaction. — My eternal living flame, how it tormented me not to be able to touch it. How it torments me right now to feel the softness of your skin.

The creature's eyes mapped your face, his eyes so vivid and striking in color, the visage on your skin, the softness of his mouth as you breathed audibly, so bruised by fatigue that you didn't even budge when he wrapped you in his arms like a bruised little bird. Her soft sigh, nesting her head against his shoulder, was the fuel for him to release the women from their ropes, gently lowering them until their feet touched the ground.

— As long as you live, my ladies, be the witness of my triumph in having my sweet beloved in my arms for eternity.

He lowered his face in your direction, the ancient smell on his clothes made you scratch your nose.

The texture of his mustache was thick. When his funeral lips touched yours, you tried to resist. Never before have you felt the pleasure of a passionate kiss or a love that took your breath away. But he knew what he'd been waiting for, holding you tightly by the back of your head, wrapping himself around you menacingly as his mustache scratched and skin immaculate from his face. His lips were hard, demanding and hungry.

His mouth ate you as his last hope, the last of pleasures and torments, a feast for a dying man.

The exchange, life and death, touching each other for the first time ignited an impulse in you. The impulse that matched his kiss, because that was the deal. You gave in, letting your lips submit to the kiss. Your body was surprised as you gasped with pleasure at corresponding with him, stimulated by the passion with which he held you. The human body is capable of many bargains to continue resisting.

And you, who had resisted for so long, gave in to that bittersweet feeling of surrender, feeling it take against your body.

Her body gradually sank into the feeling of being supported. As her dark lover's lips devoured hers, the world became a darker and darker place, the hiss of the wind seeping into her ears like spilled poison. Between soft gasps, feeling the creature suck on his lips, unable to be completely satiated, his body gave in to the strain, falling into a powerful sleep. Realizing that you no longer corresponded with him, he walked away, looking at her with apprehension. His right hand, large and bony, rested on his chest.

The beating of his heart was quiet, yet powerful. Each beat rumbling softly against the bones of his chest.

Under the gaze of the bewitched nuns, he disappeared with the night, carrying with him the only one with whom he could share his eternal night.

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#count orlok #bill skarsgard x reader #bill skarsgard fanfiction #bill skargard #bill skarsgård #nosferatu x reader #nosferatu x you #count orlok x reader #count orlok x you

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athanasius-symposium-of-writings · 3 days ago

Note

IF your requests are open and IF u feel well enough to write…

I’d love to req ithaqua … normal/morningstar/philosopher’s stone is up to u but I wanna read some nasty dark content where he’s so possessive of reader .. inspired by the scene in the essence trailer where his brother was in chains .. I’m imagining reader tho <3 or maybe some noncon gangbang w ithaqua and nathaniel … pregnancy if ur comfy..

however if u don’t feel well enough to write just delete this request! thank you so much ❤️

Once again i put too much time and thought into lore for smut... I will never learn fvbhfvhvf I went with philosopher’s stone but no preg I don't write tht

Rated: Explicit | Warning: This is based on the actual lore of the Philosopher's Stone and used the terms used to make it, dubcon/noncon, oral (male receiving), female!reader, the reader is not truly aware of actions (kinda doll-like?)

The Azoth Library is quiet, it has been like this since the death of the last Director. You wish there the sound of scholars, students with their mentors, and those curious about the word wondering the library; seeking answers within the plethora of tomes and whispered discussions. But, this is for the best… The world is not prepared for the Rebis, a word your mind both understands but does not as well, a paradox of emotions it brings that you cannot find the words for.

Does he feel the same way?

He, the first creation in the image of your creator, looks at you with what humans call love like in the books you read when learning what is like to be human. He is knowledgeable as the oldest and the first. “My most cherished other half,” Holding your face, “Finally mine alone.” His eyes no longer match the ones of the creation

The red stone, the first of Director Waning Crescent's creations, names himself Helios; he is your Red King Sol, and you, his White Queen Luna.

The Magnum Opus is what they call the recreation of this alchemical seemingly in possible creation. The Magnum Opus symbol is the squared circle. Many of these symbols are in the notes of the creation, along with other words: nigredo, albedo, citrinitas, rubedo. You wish you understood what these words mean, but you do not understand why.

The creator's wish, Director Waning Crescent, is to create the ultimate fusion of alchemy, to transcend the mind and body of man, to become one flawless immortal being. It requires two parts of the Philosopher's Stone, Sol and Luna, and once merged as one creating the Philosophiae Hermeticae.

Of course, Helios does not want to complete his creator's experiment.

How could the Director Waning Crescent who created you in the image of a lover, a lover he put his work before her, want to see you disappear and become something else? These questions the other half would ask himself, human emotions and ambition make no sense when they conflict.

“We can spend all of eternity in peace.”

You gaze at him as you lack his experience in human wants and desires, but you know the difference between right and wrong. His actions are wrong, love should not be an excuse to kill the last three Directors, nor drive out those who seek knowledge. “Eternity should be used to reflect upon your actions, my Sol.” The chains rattle as you try to move your bound arms hanging above your head, “You must report yourself to the一”

“Must you ruin our moment of peace with trivial human morals?!” Upset as he shoves your face away and moves up from his bent-over position, “The one you call creator would have killed us for his selfish goals! The others to the moment they laid eyes upon us.”

“You assumed they were like our creator.”

The laugh bitter and in disbelief echoes in the stone chambers of the room he put you in. “I forget how inexperienced you are, my Luna.” Kneeling with a lopsided smile on his face, “He wanted you to be pure and perfect, virgin in every way.” Crystalized sharp fingers caress the side of your face, “Perfect for the Rebis…” His eyes lowering as he studies how the white crystals decorate your nude body. “Submissive, pure, and obedient; a perfect woman.”

You do not understand. Nor do you understand why Sol’s lips are on your lips, or why he grabs your throat to keep you from moving away. You jerk when a hand is on your breast, touching it strangely, “What are trying to do, my Sol?” A question you do not get answers for when he takes advantage of you talking to push his tongue into your mouth. You do not respond but you notice your body, the flesh parts, are reacting. The crystal parts of you and him are glowing, this has happened before when the first Director had tested the bond between the two pieces of the Philosopher’s Stone. Your eyes are open as his eyes are closed, you look around and then back at his face when he pulls back panting. Neither of you is human so why is he mimicking breathing? You tilt your head to the side curiously watching him start to remove his jacket as he stands up, “Sol?”

“It is Helios.” Stern, “You are my Artemis.” Declaring as he undoes the button of his pants, “That is your name now, a proper name.”

“... Thank you.” Be polite like you were taught when someone gives you something, “Does it bring you comfort to have a name?”

Helios rolls his eyes as he knows the creator has limited you for his reasons to take advantage of you, “Open your mouth.” Pulling out his cock, this you know about as you did study human anatomy. It is this sexual organ the Director had you touch one night when alone with him.

You open your mouth and the flesh mixed with bits of crystal is pushed into your mouth, not all of it but enough to have you try to pull back from the stretch of your lips around it.

“Shh, relax,” Petting your hair with one hand and the other rubbing your cheek, “This is going to be our way of Rebis.”

Rebis, to become one, to become each other, to transcend. You look at him with worry then close your eyes as his hips start to move, slowly at first. It tastes weird and feels weird, the way Sol一 Helios’ breathing picks up, the growling from his chest, he tells you to use your tongue as his hips move faster. You open your eyes when he reaches his orgasm and shoves himself deep into your mouth to touch the back of your throat, the weird white substance that the Director had spilled onto your hand is now in your mouth. You choke a bit as he keeps thrusting into your mouth before pulling out, huffing when you spit out the white substance and make a face of his displeasure.

“We will work on that.” Wiping the corner of your mouth when you look back up at him, “An eternity of peace.”

You still believe he should report himself to the library warden.

#idv #anon ask #reader insert #identity v x reader #idv x reader #identity v #identity v x you #idv x you #idv night watch #idv ithaqua #ithaqua x you #ithaqua x reader #identity v ithaqua #ithaqua #night watch #night watch x reader #night watch x you #identity v night watch

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lavenderprose · 3 hours ago

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Emmrook Short: Rooftop Interlude

~~~

ALRIGHT well this scene doesn't fit the narrative of the fic the way I thought it would. Currently gnashing my teeth and trying to fit it in elsewhere. I'll just throw it up here in case it ends up being left on the cutting room floor. Have at it.

Emmrook | Explicit | Semi-Public shenanigans ahead

They are in Treviso, the coffee is strong and the stars are beautiful. Rook watches with an open, laughing mouth as Emmrich hangs from a zipwire and, embarrassingly, screams with both exhilaration and horror as he flies above the glass-calm surface of a dark canal.

When his feet touch on the ground, his knees immediately buckle, though they don’t hit the pavement. Rook jumps forward and angles her shoulder against his chest. His arms go reflexively around her and she laughs and laughs as his nose crashes into the top of her head. She smells of honeysuckle and sweat.

“Whoa,” she says, stumbling only a little under his greater height and weight. She pulls back just far enough to meet his eyes, grinning as she says, “Hey, you did it! It gets easier every time.”

“Oh!” he says, panting, voice gone just slightly hoarse from the hollering. “That was…oh my, that was—quite something, I’ve never—” He straightens up, laughs, swipes a hand through his hair. Rook doesn’t move away, and he’s distantly aware that she probably should—the area they’re standing in isn’t necessarily public, frequented as it is almost exclusively by Crows using the vast rooftop system to move about the city clandestinely. That said, it isn’t necessarily private either. One could easily misinterpret the sight of them standing here, panting and wrapped around each other.

Still, Rook doesn’t move. Her hands find their way up his back, curled over the angle of his shoulder blades, and Emmrich can almost feel every movement of her fingers, every creak of her joints even through the thick fabric of his greatcoat.

“Lucanis went ahead,” she says, and flicks her fringe away from her face with a small, neat movement of her head. Emmrich watches as her mouth opens, her eyelashes flutter, and her tongue wets the length of her top lip. “He was—um, worried Viago would get upset if we left him waiting too long. Also, Spite was getting antsy.”

“Ah,” Emmrich breathes. “Well, forgive me the time I delayed us. I consider myself quite athletic, mind you, but overcoming one’s dread at the idea of zipping through the air—that’s quite something else!” He barks out another laugh, because it’s the only thing he can think to do.

“You did great,” Rook says again, and shifts against him in such a way that her hip collides with the front of his trousers. It’s purely accidental, and wouldn’t affect him in the slightest under normal circumstances—he’s more than capable of controlling himself, even with the feelings she inspires in him. There is, however, a great deal of adrenalin still coursing through him, and when her body presses to his—and one of her hands finds his chest.

“I am so sorry,” he gasps, taking a full step back. He’s embarrassed, flaming with it, and unfortunately it does nothing to ease his problem. There’s a wire crossed there—he’s never taken the time to examine it.

A moue of surprise curls onto her face. “That’s—alright. No, really, it’s fine—” She makes a grab for his hand as he takes another step back, and the grip she tugs on him with is shockingly strong. When he brings himself to look closely at her face, pushing past the mortification, he finds a sheen over her eyes and a high, pink blush blooming across her cheeks. She sucks her lip into her mouth. “Um. Here—”

She pulls him away from the ledge by which they are still, bizarrely, standing. There is a very narrow crevasse between the rooftops of two buildings, less than two full feet in width, and it’s into this crevasse that she leads him. They keep going until the moonlight almost doesn’t hit them anymore, illuminating only the silky top of her tonic-lightened hair and the metal notions on her gear.

Once sufficiently deep for her liking, she turns and pushes him into a wall. He’s panting, exhilarated and just a little alarmed, and she whispers, “Emmrich. Tell me, um. Tell me to stop, and I will.” Then her small hand reaches down his front, finds the outline of his erection, and tenderly caresses the throbbing head of his cock.

“Oh,” Emmrich whimpers, head clonking back against the brick wall. All ideals of propriety he’s ever been taught demand that he tells her to stop—that he politely rebuff her advance, initiate an encounter properly, privately, or else give himself over to the silent longing that is his lot in life. He knows he should, and yet cannot bring himself to; he is weak, weak for her, and she is beautiful, warm and offering herself to him like a wrapped gift. The weight of her hand, her sweet breath against his neck—he can only welcome them.

“Sh, sh,” she whispers. “You feel good. Is that—do you like—”

“Yes,” he gasps. “Yes, that’s—” He sighs, squeezes his eyes shut. “Please, Rook—please.”

Rook gasps against the crook of his neck, wet and hot, then she’s gone. His head spins as he processes her absence, and then her hands find him again—from below, and he looks down. Amber pools, so deep he could sink into them and never surface, examine him from hip-level. Her fingers are frantic, fumbling at the buckles and ties between the air and his flesh.

Emmrich Volkarin, who is far enough into his second half-century of life that he should know better, and still young enough that the world often manages to surprise him, stutters out a single word of protest—Rook, simply her name—and then can’t bring himself to finish the thought.

“I want to,” she says instantly, clearly aware of his train of thought. “Maker, I want you in my mouth. Let me suck your cock.”

“Okay,” he squeaks. “Okay—yes—that—Rook, darling, that button is a clip—"

He is stunned, overcome and so deeply aroused that he thinks his head might just pop clean off. Rook, who seems to know this, fixes him with a look of utter desire and he knows that whatever is driving her to do this, it isn’t something he needs to save her from. He joins her fumbling and, together, they free him from his clothes. The sight of his purpled, wet cockhead next to her comely face is utterly obscene, and it almost undoes him before he has the privilege of sinking into the heat of her mouth.

“You’re beautiful,” he tells her, as she taps his cock on her chin.

“So are you,” says Rook, speaking directly to and possibly about his penis, but he can’t really hold it against her. He’s been known to appreciate the presence of a hard cock in his face, as well. The thought startles a chuckle out of him as she inches closer, settling into the task she’s chosen.

She shifts from her squat to kneel on his boots, keeping her knees out of the alley refuse, and his toes flex against the sweet, heavy burden of her weight as she takes him. Her tongue is clever, slick, twirling underneath the glans. Her eyes stay open and somehow, against all odds, his do too. Her lips are red, a perfect pucker around the veined shaft of his cock. Emmrich has always enjoyed congress in all its forms, giving and receiving, but the act of oral pleasure has always filled him with a particular mixture of shame and desire. Something about the baseness of it, the inherent submission of kneeling before someone and servicing them.

Rook doesn’t seem to do it as an act of submission, or even particularly an act of service. She gives fellatio selfishly, if that’s even a thing. Genuinely appears to enjoy it nearly as much as him; groaning around him, pressing forward until her nose is buried in the still-dark hair at the root of his cock, and fluttering her eyelids as if he can bring her to her own ecstasy simply by fucking her mouth. It would be a lie to say he hasn’t thought about this—Maker, he has, and he’ll be judged for that someday. He’s also thought about his hands on her breasts, the curve of her ass in his lap, and the way she might taste. They aren’t thoughts he’s ashamed of, necessarily, because he would never breathe a word of them to her unsolicited. He’s red-blooded, she is beautiful, and it has felt for at least some short time now that they were hurtling towards this inevitably. Nevertheless, it’s shocking that it would happen now.

He considers himself a sexual being, deeply enjoys the act of it as both a source of intimacy and relief, and seeks it out when he desires it. It has, however, been a long time since he had the time or inclination to do so. She brings him to the brink quickly, and he can hardly breathe to signal to her his impending release.

“Rook,” he gasps, a hand clutching onto the nearest part of her—which, unfortunately, is her hair. He grips a handful of it far harder than he intends to. She groans encouragingly, hands spidering up to grasp at the backs of his thighs, and he bites savagely into his gloved hand as he spills onto her tongue.

She leans over and spits, which is one of the grosser things he’s ever found erotic, and then asks, “Do you have a handkerchief?” Her voice is quiet, now with the subtlest rasp. He immediately pulls out his handkerchief and offers it in trembling fingers.

“Thanks,” she murmurs, wiping her mouth. She tucks him back into his trousers, reverse-engineering the complicated arrangement of his buckles with only a little guidance, and then briefly rests her forehead against his stomach. His toes are beginning to go numb under her weight—a minor and extremely bearable pittance.

“Are you alright, darling?” he asks, curling a finger under her chin.

“Mm-hm.” Rook tilts her head up, eyes still closed, and presses a lingering kiss to his thumb. It reminds him that they have yet to so much as kiss, despite the taste of him now lingering in her mouth. “I’m so turned on I don’t think I’ll be able to walk straight. Give me a second.”

“Ah,” Emmrich murmurs. She giggles. “If you desire some assistance in that regard, I would gladly offer it.”

“No time,” she sighs. “We were supposed to be at the Diamond ten minutes ago. Spite will know what we’ve been doing, and I’m sure he’ll tell Lucanis.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t be so sure,” Emmrich says, resting his head back against the wall. The stars are just visible between the eaves of the two roofs almost meeting each other overhead. They seem almost audible in their brightness. “Spite is more likely to smell the alley than the sex. We’ll tell him you fell in a gutter.”

“Oh, I’ve been in the gutter alright,” Rook mutters against his hip, and they share another giggle.

The meeting with the Talons is awkward. Their delayed arrival had, indeed, aggravated Viago de Riva—though Emmrich has it on good authority that this is by no means an impossible feat. Lucanis, too, fixes them with a vaguely disgruntled look. Emmrich returns it, not missing the flash of purple on the edges of Lucanis’ pupils, and can only hope that a steady, reproachful look is enough to dissuade Spite from inserting himself into the conversation. Despite his assurances to Rook, Emmrich doesn’t yet know enough about Spite to be absolutely assured that Lucanis’ demon counterpart won’t smell Rook’s breath and immediately take it upon himself to announce his knowledge of their liaison.

This, thankfully, never comes to be. Teia is predominantly amused by their obvious dishevelment, and Viago is still grateful enough to Rook for Treviso’s rescue that he lets any observations of his own pass largely unmentioned. Lucanis only says one thing as they pass through the Eluvian.

“…on your own time next time, okay?” Emmrich hears, as Rook and Lucanis emerge through the mirror behind him. He also hears Rook’s huffed laugh.

“Sure.”

Spite, emerging at last through Lucanis’ throat: “Rook. Your breath. Smells like co—”

“Ah,” Emmrich snaps, prim, because Spite responds well to firm guidelines. Misguided spirits are, after all, something of Emmrich’s specialty.

“Ugh!” Spite snaps, before fading back into obscurity behind Lucanis’ eyes.

“Well,” sighs Lucanis, rubbing his neck. “This has been…fun. I’m going home.”

Rook lets him stomp ahead through the strange brush of the Crossroads, giggling under her breath, and Emmrich ignores the stark sting of mortification on the back of his neck. When the tails of Lucanis’ cape are swaying a satisfactory ways in the distance, Emmrich slants his gaze towards her and mutters, “I think you’re amused by this, my dear.”

“They were going to find out anyway,” she sighs, and shakes a hand through her hair, falling badly now out of its pins. It’s been most of an entire day since she put them in. She pockets them as they come loose until, after a moment, her hair falls over her shoulders in a sleek, pin-straight waterfall. The shadows of her black roots are only just beginning to surface at her scalp. “We’re all living on top of each other. It’s like the Novice Watcher’s dorms all over again.”

“It was a rather, um, effective way to ensure our relationship becomes common knowledge,” Emmrich murmurs, hands twisting together as they meander after Lucanis’ rapidly retreating form. “There are Crows in Vyrantium who I’m sure will know by the end of the week. And with Spite knowing, it’s only a matter of time before—”

“I’m giving it ‘til Thursday,” Rook says, it currently being Tuesday.

“Mmm. That’s generous.”

“Emmrich.” She stops, hands buried in the pockets of her Watcher’s apron, and waits for him to wheel to face her. She’s frowning and seems to be actively engaged in the act of making herself smaller, like she’s bracing for a blow. “We don’t have to…if that was too much, just let me know. I’m not made of glass. I’ve been rejected before.”

“That,” he says, stern, “is far from what is happening here.” The idea of rejecting her after the gift of her attentions in the alley, as unwise as they may have been, makes him see red. Someone, somewhere, must have made her feel so utterly worthless at some point. Someone left her to think that her body could be taken for granted and her sexuality scorned. He should hope that individual never crosses his path on a dark night.

It’s only the intensity of his voice that seems to keep her from pursuing that line of thought. She shifts nervously, a sort of girlish uncertainty about her, and she says, “This is kind of how I am. Impulsive. I don’t always make great decisions. You should know that before this goes any further.

“Rook,” sighs Emmrich, and he closes in to grip her hands. “Do you honestly think that my sexual experiences are limited to dark bedrooms? Quite the opposite. It’s rather flattering to me that you witnessed my floundering and still desired me at all afterwards, let alone right that very moment.”

“Well.” Rook, posture loosening at last, slides her arms around his neck. “It was very sexy floundering.”

“Point being,” Emmrich murmurs, lips against the tip of her ear, “I greatly enjoyed the experience. I’ll admit to being somewhat…embarrassed, but that isn’t necessarily an undesirable consequence for something of this nature. Not for…a man such as myself.”

He waits for the meaning of his words to reach her, and that delicious shame drifts down his back when her eyes widen. “Oh. Oh.”

He clears his throat. “Yes. So, darling, you did nothing wrong…aside from make us tardy for the meeting with the Talons. I do so abhor tardiness.”

“Right. So, next time, work time into the schedule for the rooftop blowjob.”

“Congress under the stars can be so romantic,” Emmrich sighs elaborately, and he knows her confidence is done faltering when she laughs.

He wants to touch her, to feel the promised arousal between her thighs. He thinks about it on a loop as they walk back to the Lighthouse, but she begs off when they arrive.

“I’ll fall asleep on you,” she threatens.

“Not a distasteful thought,” he murmurs, hands low on her hips. He imagines easing her to sleep with swipes of his tongue—a gentle orgasm leading to a deep, dreamless slumber.

He feels her shiver. “I want to. I wish…but I have so much on my mind. Viago is concerned about Antaam movements, Davrin and I need to go speak to Antoine and Evka as soon as possible. I need to think. I need…” She sighs, rolls her eyes. “I think I need to talk to Solas.”

Of course. He’s allowed himself to forget, however briefly, that the Dread Wolf still quite literally occupies her mind. Her slumber is never truly her own, never private. He wishes now, as he often has, that they had met in the Necropolis, before the world took it upon itself to attempt to end for the third time in as many decades. Or else that he could insulated her from the burdens of her station, at least long enough for more than a furtive rooftop fuck.

When they part at the bottom of the stairs to her room, it’s almost unbearable to watch her go.

“Rook,” he says, before she opens the door. She turns to look over her shoulder, and he says, “If you need me—”

“I do,” she says, and disappears.

#DATV #Emmrook #Emmrich Volkarin #dragon age

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hotrod-and-ride · 12 hours ago

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Rest, my love- you have enough time

Optimus doesn't know how to take it easy, so you show him how.

TFP!Optimus x Human!Reader fluff A/N: This was originally a self-insert thingy I made for my own pleasures but then I thought of sharing it with everyone else as a reader insert cause why not :DD enjoy!

"Optimus, have you seen my-"

You stop halfway into the room., tail flicking at the sight in front of you as the doors hissed open. Despite the uneventful days, Optimus had made himself occupied with work, slouched on his desk with data pads scattered on its surface. While it wasn't an unusual scene, he had been at his desk since you had left your shared berthroom earlier in the day. It was now late afternoon, the sun about to set.

Optimus hadn't heard you, too ingrained in his task. He's tense, by the way his chest plates seem to be pressing into itself with the way his shoulders were compressed. Even from afar, your ears could hear the cooling fans in his vents work themselves despite not overheating.

Whatever it was you were going to ask him for was completely set aside, the hybrids focus now onto your working lover.

"Oh darling," you sigh, eyes softening. You walk over to his side, pronouncing each step loud enough telling him you’re here. You make an effort to climb him (and even then, barely takes notice of you). You put a soft hand on his left shoulder and another one by the back of his neck cables. Your touch is soft, thumb rubbing back and forth against his plating. Optimus eases into the touch. You place a kiss on the side of his face.

"Have you been here all day at your desk? This isn't good for you." You ask, concerned. "Things have been idle lately, you shouldn't be working yourself over this much."

Optimus leans back back with an ex-vent from his intake. "That is exactly the problem. Megatron and his disciples' lack of activity raises suspicions of his actions. I'm afraid if I do ignore this idleness, the Deceptions may make a move further into their plans."

Optimus' admission of his thoughts both makes your heart ache and frustrated. For a mecha who's been alive for millennia, he sure does not know the signs of when to step back and take certain things as blessings.

You sigh. Men-like mecha and their stubbornness when it comes to leadership can be disheartening.

Despite the struggle, you make your way down onto the desk, minding the data pads on the desk- and firmly grabs hold of his face close by the sides of his helm. His optics widen slightly and whir at the sudden grip on his helm.

"Beloved," you start, staring back into his optics with fond annoyance and love, "I know being a leader means being vigilant of your responsibilities and your duties with the best of your capabilities. But sometimes, you have to take a deep breath and step back, and realize when too much is too much." At this, Optimus puts his servos gently over her hands, about to reply, but you don’t give him a chance.

"Give yourself some credit and listen to your body- I can tell you're tired enough as it is. You've acted when you need to, and now it is time for you to rest. You've been given the clearest signs to take a break and you refuse to do so. So I'm asking you to please, stop slaving over your desk or so help me God I will drag you by the finials over to our berth." You say the last phrase with a breathy laugh, stroking your thumbs over his face plate with earnestness. He leans in to the touch, and you can't help but be reminded of a cat nuzzling itself into its owner. Optimus gently holds your hands with his servos, putting them closer to his derma to plant kisses over them.

"I suppose, if my sweetspark wishes for me to rest, then I shall," Optimus says. You beam at the compliance.

"But only if she does so with me."

A smile grows on his derma, as does on your lips. You lift yourself on the tip of your toes, bumping your forehead against his, before kissing him there.

You chuckle, "Of course, my love, I gladly will."

You hold him by a digit, asking him to follow you to the berth. He stands so,holding out a servo for you to stand on as he takes two steps towards the berth and lowers you down. Optimus sits by the edge, and waits for whatever you has planned.

He watches in amusement as you arrange the multitude of pillows and blankets you’ve managed to collected on his berth, your brows furrowed in concentration and little noncommital sounds that escape from your breath. It never ceases to amaze him just how expressive humans can be. Once you nod to yourself you look back up at him, a pleased smile at your own work.

“Get smaller so I cuddle you, Oppy.” You make grabby hands at him and whine, fangs glinting in the light.

Optimus only laughs at your neediness and in a blink, he's only 5 feet taller than you, but still big in size. He carries you by the back of your thighs, while you cling to him with arms around his neck, into his chassis.

“Needy little thing,” Optimus teases, “This was your plan all along, wasn't it?” One of his servos glides across her back up and down, a soothing gesture.

“Maybe,�� you confess, hiding a grin forming on your lips. "I miss spending time with you."

Optimus falters, for a moment, a feeling of guilt rising at the back of his vocalizer. His optical ridges furrow. He hadn't meant to neglect his sparkmate of his time.

He lays you down on the berth, right next to him in the nest of pillows and blankets. He brings you in close for a hug, kissing you long and tender on your lips.

"I did not mean to forget you, sweetspark, nor neglect your needs," the sorry in his voice is palpably obvious.

"It's okay, Op, I understand, and I accept your apology," you give him a reassuring smile. "Now come here and cuddle with me."

You reposition yourself so that you lean on a few pillows against the headboard, slightly raised. You spread your legs open and gestures for Optimus to fill the space between them.

"Come here darling. Lay on my stomach. Let me take care of my sweet, hard working Prime.”

The honeyed pet names make him preen, EM field alight with love-care-affection-tenderness. Optimus obliged, eagerly crawling into your lap and planting himself there, arms wrapped around your waist and helm against the plush of your chest. Then, after a moment, he's enveloped by your arms, legs firmly against his side, one leg wrapped around his waist. All at once he's surrounded by warmth and relaxation starts to seep into his cables.

Once you put her hands over his helm, slowly and gently stroking back and forth— he’s a goner. His cables and piston hisses at the release of pressure and he ex-vents at the beautiful sensation of being engulfed by the presence of his sparkmate. He can feel your voice humming through your skin.

"... I love you, my inamorata. Thank you, for giving me so much care."

"I love you too, my dear Prime." A soft kiss on his helm.

“My darling Orion."

#transformers x reader #optimus prime x reader #tfp optimus prime

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echantedtoon · 1 day ago

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Hello!

Can I please request a Vice student council president! Michikatsu and President Kibutsuji who are pinning over reader? But the reader is oblivious and is quite intimidated by them and tries to avoid them. And could you please do alternate endings of both? Thank you very much 💕🦋

@lavenderdropp

(Highschool au Muzan vs Kokushibo x Reader)

*You were the new student at school. So if course there'd be fuss kicked up about you but let's not get ahead of ourselves just yet. Muzan's always been one aiming for a position of power so if course in highschool he'd be student body president with Kokushibo of course following behind being his vise president. Akaza the treasurer. Nakime student body security. Etc.

*Both of them knew of the new girl but paid no attention. That is until you're introduced to them by the teacher and both are immediately smitten by just absolutely cute and pretty and- OH gods! You waved at him! It's highschool. Whaddya expect?

*This of course both having mutual big crushes on you would cause tension between the two especially at meetings making it awkward and eventually a teacher telling them to knock it off.c Each would try to work you first in his own way after that.

*Muzan is calculating and quick...but he's also known for his impatient ass that often causes him to bumble up. So he'd be the first one to approach you first in the most awkward, terrible way. By cornering you at your locker, hand on the wall above your head much to your shock and everyone else around you as he looked at you. "Have lunch with me today." It was supposed to be a question but he ended up demanding it instead causing you to raise a brow awkwardly, confused, and a little scared. "Um....No." You then quickly walked away making him blankly stare at the wall.

*Say what you want about Muzan, he's stubborn enough to keep trying despite it being useless. So he tries harder. Bringing you bouquets and chocolates. Offering anything in his power of student body president. You want someone to do your homework for you? He'll order Nakime to do it! Is anyone giving you trouble? He'll have Akaza shoved in a locker for the rest of the school year! You need to just ask him and anything will be at your fingertips! His parents are very influential in this district so he could totally take you out on the best dates!! His insistence has you hightailing it in the other direction every time.

*Kokushibo however is the exact opposite. Like Muzan he's calculating but he has more patience. The only problem is that he's so deadpanned and blunt all the time. He first watches Muzan make a fool of himself for a few weeks and then decides to make his move. ...By awkwardly walking up to you during lunch. "Hello." You paused mid bite to look at him. "Um..Hi." "Would you be interested in joining the student council?" "Uh. No thanks."

*He continues to awkwardly stand there before just saying ok and leaving. He's never had a crush before so he's got no idea of how awkward he's coming off. Yoriichi tries to give him advice. "Be polite. If she's not interested don't push her. Maybe start with an icebreaker so ask her how her day was but most importantly just be yourself!" So he does..all awkwardly. He continues to just come up to you awkwardly asking how your day was followed by a request- "How was math class?" "We..have the same math class?" ".... Would you like me to carry your books for you?" "Uh...No." He's trying but he's just so awkward it weirds you out into avoiding him too.

*However if you were to choose Muzan you'd be spoiled beyond belief. Both outside and inside school. No one would dare bully you..In fact everyone would avoid you in fear of him. But the plusses are you're grades would somehow always be As even if you KNEW that you flunked a test, no one would bully you, and you'd be getting lavish dates. But is the reputation of being the school's biggest bully's girlfriend and having everyone avoid you outta fear worth it? He'd also be a very temper tantrum throwing individual so good luck with that one.

*If you were to choose Kokushibo..Well not a lot of things would change. People would still avoid you because Kokushibo is Muzan's right hand man and also has a scary reputation for a reason. However you'd be having a very good friend in Yoriichi who'd be over the moon his brother got a girlfriend and would continue to play wingman for him. However despite that things would continue to remain awkward and he may do things that can come off as rude. Such as just taking your books to carry them for you without asking, grabbing your hand and making you hold it while walking down the halls, and pushing past people to make room for for.

*If you choose not to choose either of them, prepare for the awkward rivalry to continue until you graduate at the end of the year.

#demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba #kokushibo #kokushibo x reader #muzan #muzan x reader

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averysexyleon · 1 day ago

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when fenris met cassandra

scene: fenris arrives at skyhold, to talk to the inquisitor about getting hawke out of the fade

"I am Solas. I will be helping you return to the Fade for Hawke."

"Then I am grateful for your help."

"Of course." Brusque. He certainly wasn’t Dalish. He also didn’t seem like a city elf. "I’ve heard about you. Mostly from Merrill." They were in the main hall. Solas knew where they were going, apparently, and led Fenris toward the entrance to the castle. There were a lot of steps here, but gratefully, the other elf strode quickly, clearly very familiar with the castle grounds. "Your work against the Tevinter slave trade, and other guilds--is extremely admirable. You have my thanks, for what it is worth."

This strangely blunt compliment left the warrior silent for a moment, until he stuttered out a, "Uh, thank you." It was more of a mutter than anything else. The steps were taken care of, and now they crossed a courtyard, where the pair of barefoot elves drew plainly open stares. There were merchants, travelers, soldiers, and resting scouts all happy to pay attention to the odd-looking pair.

The long-haired elf’s ponytail caught on his shoulder as he turned his head, scanning the full field for any sign of Merrill. Fenris’s face must have been doing something unpleasant; Solas smirked. "It might not surprise you to know that the Inquisition soldiers are some of Varric’s most dedicated fanbase."

Fenris groaned; he had met a few spare travelers here and there in Ferelden who digested the drivel from the dwarf; he couldn’t bear an entire yard’s worth of them. Varric wrote some epically broody, intensely passionate version of Fenris that, to him, didn’t exist. It was probably some inside joke between Varric and Hawke--it seemed their way. "Drivel," he growled, to Solas’s chuckle, and then a very unexpected--severe, face moved in front of the pair, completely oblivious to anyone else’s stares.

"Solas, have you spo--" She gasped, not hiding her amazement at seeing Fenris. Her eyes widened, and a hand came up to cover her mouth. He smothered the urge to wince, and internally reminded himself to get a hood, or a cloak, or a cloaked hood....or a box, or an underground tunnel to travel through--

"You ARE here! It’s you! It IS Fenris, is it not? Companion Warrior and Bodyguard of the Champion of Kirkwall?"

Solas’s smile was uncanny. "Fenris, this is--"

"Seeker Cassandra Pentaghast?" His voice was a deep growl next to the other elf’s. She didn’t look ready to shake his hand, but Fenris eagerly extended his own.

"How do you ...know?"

"I’ve heard much of you from Varric. And Templars I’ve met in travels."

Another gasp. He’d heard many tales of the Seeker, never met her in person, and now as she clasped his hands gingerly with her gloved ones, he wondered why the image given to him had always been far more brute-like than her actual appearance. Cassandra was very feminine, if bluntly spoken, but for the first time since arriving, Fenris was actually drawn to another--and a human, to boot.

"Varric speaks of me?! What does he say?"

Solas looked as if he might burst into laughter, his odd purple eyes flickering between the pair of them as they spoke, her reluctantly dropping the elf’s hand--he was glad for the brief touch to be over. Fenris dipped his head entreatingly, curling his fingers and flexing them. "I’ve heard many stories. You perform impressive work. I would love to...what do they call it? Talk shop, sometime, if you’ve a mind."

Cassandra’s stern facial expression mutated into something like a child fawning over a puppy. It slowly dawned on Fenris that she was as excited about meeting him as he was her; the realization made him blush, but fortunately his dark skin meant that his embarrassment was only visible on the tips of his ears, if one were looking. Solas certainly was.

"I...talk! About...fighting? Oh, but of course! I read of your techniques and of course the...your....the markings, but Varric’s writing left me with so many questions! I hadn’t even considered that we might...but yes!" She was blushing too, and luckily, she was talking enough for both of them. Fenris was already considering how painful a leap from the ramparts would be after this conversation. Cassandra’s wide eyes suddenly narrowed when she caught Solas’s smirk. "And YOU, not a word--don’t you dare--Fenris, I’m certain you have other things to attend to...but please do come find me. Solas, by the Maker, if you--"

She rounded on the other elf, who laughed and pointed at a nearby, warmly lit building. "There is your tavern, with the Inquisitor likely inside." Then the other elf’s attentions were all on gloating at Cassandra’s moment of weakness. Fenris awkwardly bowed his head, which she returned with a flustered mini-curtsy, before rounding on Solas with a robust string of threats. Admirable. Fenris snorted to himself as he made toward the tavern.

#dragon age #dragon age inquisition #cassandra pentaghast #solas #dread wolf #fenris #fenris dragon age #solas dragon age

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soleminisanction · 1 month ago

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So a while back I ran the numbers to confirm a suspicion that fandom trends towards a trans Tim Drake, and there's a lot of bits and pieces around his canon material that I think contributes to that interest. But there's a particular, subtle one that's been poking at my mind a lot because I think it might actually be a pretty significant factor that nobody really notices:

His costumes.

The original Robin costume, the one Dick and Jason wore, is childish but exposing. It's innocent enough when they're being drawn as spunky children, but during the period when Dick's still wearing it into his late teens and early 20s, it's practically as revealing as a lot of the women's costumes (and, in retrospect, almost certainly laid some of the groundwork for him sometimes being sexualized by the art and writing the way female characters normally are -- George Pérez, at least, absolutely put him on display every bit as much as he did Starfire and Donna).

Damian's costumes, meanwhile, lean more into archaic/fantasy armor designs and are thus largely genderless outside some vague allusions to the codename's Robin Hood roots. And Steph's is, well, a minidress, and one designed to show off her figure, drawing explicit attention to her femininity.

But then you have Tim's most iconic costume, his original one, which is not only fully covering in a way the original look isn't, it also, by virtue of being designed in the 90s, sports a very specific feature: molded body armor shaped to look like pectoral and abdominal muscles. In other words -- an idealized male body.

Not every artist always included that detail, but it was an explicit part of the design that you don't see as much these days, at least not for teen heroes. Which means it's inadvertently the perfect costume for a trans masculine Boy Wonder. It's got built-in body shaping. The cape and tunic layers even help to make his shoulders look wider.

Tim's second costume, the OYL later suit, doesn't explicitly have this body shaping element, but some artists still hint at it in the same way that Dick's Nightwing suits do (ie, we assume they're not showing off their real muscles with skintight suits for safety reasons, but who knows). Plus it comes with the bonus gay longing of changing the colors to mourn the dead crush he's too deep in the closet to recognize.

And then you've got his modern Robin look which has the same kind of shaping going on in a sleaker, more subtle way, though it can vary from artist to artist how much the red part of his suit is drawn as a breast plate vs. a part of the bodysuit.

As a bonus, the design also has a tendency to make him look lean and lithe, in an interesting contrast to Damian who, despite being physically smaller than Tim, tends to have a presence that makes him come across as stockier and more solid, possibly because he's more heavily armored.

You even see this with some of Tim'snon-Robin looks. I've mentioned this elsewhere but, the original Red Robin look making him look older when the cowl was up honestly makes a lot of sense. That suit was originally designed for a Dick Grayson who was pushing 60 to conceal the extent of his age while still communicating his maturity and development. It makes sense that it'd work the other way, to make 17 year old Tim look like he's in his late 20s/early 30s.

It's tunic over a body suit design is also just aesthetically pleasing in terms of forming an elegant male body type, the same way a well-cut suit can be. Again, it does especially nice things for the shoulders, which is why I personally prefer it to the fully bodysuit redesign they give him in the latter part of the series. Although as we can see from the details in Marcus To's art, even that body suit has seams strategically placed to suggest muscles.

And then of course there's the 2016 Rebirth era Red Robin costume, which is just a more heavily-armored version of his classic Robin look that's trying really hard to make him look masculine and mature, which means... exaggerated muscles.

And the thing is, it's not that this doesn't happen with other characters' costumes. But for various reasons it specifically didn't happen with the other Robin costumes, like I described at the start.

Which is not something I think people consciously notice. But I do know that, when I was writing my transmasc Tim fanfic a few years before realizing that I myself was also transmasc, one of the images that solidified the story for me was how good it would've felt the first time a transmasc Tim put on his new Robin costume and saw the Boy Wonder looking back at him. And I remember specifically thinking about how nice the shaped armor would be for that sort of thing.

It's kinda funny how an obvious attempt to enforce gender norms wound up, for lack of a better term, backfiring, at least in my opinion. There's just something about exaggerating the masculinity of Robin, a role designed to contrast and foil the already exaggerated masculine ideal of Batman, that makes it feel like a performance.

#tim drake #robin #batman #batfamily #dc comics #transgender #transmasc #in contrast I'd also argue that Nightwing feels distinctly genderfluid as an identity #even if Dick feels pretty cismale out of costume #if that makes any sense #like. there's just something about the way that Nightwing gets 'gazed' upon that's similar but distinct to how the male gaze views women #and of course no one else moves the way he does #plus the identity was developed as a pair with Starfire who was always taller and stronger than Dick in defiance of gender norms #but he also doesn't feel particularly 'feminine' he's just not exactly a 'masculine' either #he's just 'Nightwing'#whereas Dick Grayson is undoubtedly a man just a different kind of man than Bruce Wayne

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