#but failing that this is the next best thing :D

[zeroseuniverse]

My Mess, Your Mess, Our Mess

Word Count: 768 Summary: “You always come running, no matter what kind of mess I make.” “That’s because you’d literally die without me.” Pairing: Jake X GN! Reader

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If there was one constant in your life, it was control. You thrived on order, schedules, and structure. You were the reliable one, the problem-solver, the person who always had a plan. That is, until Jake Sim crashed into your perfectly managed world like an unrelenting storm.

It started at work, where you first met him. He was a new hire, brought in by your boss who swore he was a genius despite his… tendencies. The first week alone, he set off the fire alarm—not once, but twice. The first time, he microwaved his coffee with a spoon still inside. The second? He somehow managed to spill an entire cup of instant ramen onto the office printer, which, for reasons beyond logic, resulted in sparks and a minor panic.

You had to explain to the fire department both times that no, it was not an actual emergency, and yes, it was the same person responsible.

“I swear I was just trying to print my expense report,” Jake had defended, flashing you a sheepish grin as if that would erase the chaos he had caused.

“You what?” You had pinched the bridge of your nose, exhaling sharply. “Why were you eating ramen next to the printer in the first place?”

“It was a multitasking experiment.”

“It failed.”

But the thing with Jake was, no matter how exasperated he made you, you couldn’t stay mad at him. Because as much trouble as he caused, he somehow always managed to drag you into it, too.

Like the time he roped you into helping him cook.

“I don’t know why you agreed to this,” you muttered as you stood in his kitchen, arms crossed while he rummaged through his cabinets. “You burn toast. Toast, Jake.”

“That’s an exaggeration.”

“Is it? Last week you set the break room toaster on fire.”

“That was an accident!” He looked at you with the most innocent expression, and you had to fight the urge to smile. “Besides, this time, I have you. You’re responsible. You can supervise.”

Supervise, it turned out, was an understatement. Because thirty minutes later, he had somehow flung sauce onto the ceiling, nearly sliced his finger cutting vegetables, and, in a grand finale, almost knocked over the entire pot of pasta while attempting to “save” a single noodle that had slipped onto the counter.

You had barely managed to grab his wrist in time, yanking him back before disaster struck.

“Are you trying to burn your apartment down?” you groaned.

Jake just laughed, his eyes bright with amusement as he looked down at where your hand was still gripping his wrist. “Nah. If anything, I’d say I’m making your life a little more exciting.”

That was the problem. You were starting to realize that maybe you didn’t hate the chaos he brought. Maybe you liked it more than you were willing to admit.

Maybe you liked him.

And that was dangerous.

You told yourself you were just looking out for him, that’s why you always came running to fix whatever mess he got himself into. But then there were moments—small, fleeting moments—that made you question everything.

Like when he’d grinned at you after that near-kitchen disaster, like you were the best part of his day.

Like when he’d brushed a stray strand of hair behind your ear absentmindedly, as if he did it all the time.

Like now.

It was late, and you had found yourself once again in Jake’s orbit, this time because he had texted you I need help with no context. You had rushed over, only to find him staring at his laptop with the most defeated expression.

“I deleted the entire project file,” he admitted. “Like, it’s gone.”

You sighed, sitting down beside him and pulling the laptop towards you. “You know, one day, I’m going to let you suffer the consequences of your own disasters.”

“No, you won’t,” he said confidently, propping his chin on his hand as he watched you work. “You like me too much.”

Your fingers froze over the keyboard. Your heart did too.

You turned to glare at him, but he only smirked, leaning in slightly.

“You do,” he teased. “You always come running, no matter what kind of mess I make.”

“That’s because you’d literally die without me.”

“True.” He grinned, but there was something softer in his eyes now. “But also because you care.”

Your breath caught. He wasn’t wrong. You did care. And you were realizing, maybe, just maybe, you weren’t just putting out his fires.

Maybe you were falling straight into them.

And maybe you didn’t mind at all.

[highway-143]

back then <3

(my first time posting a work of my own, so dont come at me hehe. idk how to use tumblr well so bear [bare? idk at this point] with me)

genere: fluff, smut (MDNI) friends to lovers <3

pairing: childhood friend sunghoon x female reader, reader is presumed to be a few inches shorter than him. sunghoon is an idol (fellow delulus where you at!?) and his members make cameos (jake, heeseung, and sunoo) your friend, hannah, is also mentioned but doesnt actually appear

smut warnings: (unprotected sex, [DONT, ITS NOT WORTH IT] fingering, creampie, breast sucking, size kink, buncha crap really) its just straight up porn towards the end, you've been warned (hey, at least its got plot) i will say it is more public sex (while the guys are over) there is also swearing :D oh yeah, sunghoon has a big dick too.

word count: also not willing to figure that one out, but its a medium sized oneshot, probably about a 5-10 minute read?

(not fully proofread, but i did scan)

synopsis: you and park sunghoon have been best friends since you were in third grade, but what happens when the line of friendship and romance is danced across too often for feelings to allow?

(this is a work of fiction. all scenarios are fake)

song: paranormal- enhypen

back then:

"ow ow ow! ow!" you shouted as you covered you bleeding knee with your hand, the other grabbing your back like an old lady, something a nine year old shouldnt be experiencing.

turns out, falling off the firemans pole on the school playground hurts. your scraped up knee was looking rough as you clutched it. your lower back ached with a duller pain, definitely less piercing as your poor knee.

you saw a shadow cover your spot on the woodchips. "are you okay?" said the squeaky voice of a boy your age.

you looked up at him, the sun making your eyes glitch while you tried to see his face.

once your vision was cleared, you saw a short boy with dimples and a cute bowl cut standing over you and looking at your busted knee. "do you need a band aid?" he asked, pointing a thin finger at the bloody skin.

"yes please." you said, tears forming in your eyes. you couldnt cry, not now, not with a boy standing right in front of you.

he ran to the first aid station by the bathrooms and fumbled for a bandage. when he hurried back over to you and knelt down, you tried to grab the band aid, but he wouldnt allow it.

"I'll do it, your hand looks scraped up too." he said while peeling apart the wrapper. you pulled your hands off of your leg and back and looked at them. both were bruised and the skin was dented from the failed attempt at catching your fall. just wonderful.

"im sunghoon," he put the large bandage over your knee and patted it with his hand. "who are you?"

"im y/n," you say, timidly walking into a conversation. "who's class are you in? i haven't seen you before."

"im in mr. jung's class, i just moved here last week." he crouched to sit on the pokey woodchips across from you, beding his knees to his chest.

"oh cool! im in mrs. lee's, we're right next door!"

he smiled and looked around the playground, searching the other children's faces. "do you have any friends?" he asked, wanting to get to know more people.

school had been rough for sunghoon so far. he couldve chalked it up to the fact that he was new, or that the kids needed time to get to know him, but the truth was that he was just an introvert. so were you, in a way. that's why you assumed he was talking to you, because you reminded him of himself, whether consciously or not.

"not really," you mutter, blushing and picking at a funny-looking woodchip. "i dont talk to people very much, i just do my own thing"

he grinned at your words, happy to find a new friend that was like him.

now:

"SUNGHOON!" you called from the kitchen, staring at the dishes in the sink, piled up like someone was trying to recreate the leaning tower of piza out of ceramic plates and silver cutlery. "HOW THE FUCK DO YOU DO THIS?"

he slinked into the room, a suppressed grin teasing his lips. he knew exactly what he was doing.

every time you come to hang out at his house, there are either dishes in the sink, clothes on the floor, or socks on the lamps. you honestly dont know how he does it.

"im just magical" he said, taking the plate out of your hand and opening the dishwasher. "you do know its my house, right?"

"you do know that if i never came over, it would be an absolute crime scene, right?" you retorted, earning a laugh from sunghoon.

you couldnt help but stare when his forearms flexed, the veins in his hands showing very well as warm water flowed over them. the brush in his hand didnt make it better. you sat back and leaned against the marble counter, watching him clean up.

he glanced over his shoulder to catch your attention. "what are you doing tomorrow night?"

"probably gonna get dinner with hannah," you say while giving him a quizzical look. "why?"

"do you want to hang out with me and some of the guys? we're doing a movie night and they said i should invite you."

"why not? i just wont ask hannah then!" you say, laughing. you only ask hannah to hang out when sunghoon is busy and you need a friend, which is kind of rude, but you two arent as close as you and sunghoon.

he laughs along and flicks you with water from his long fingers, and you shriek in shock. "sunghoon! dont you dare, or i swear-" but you were cut off with another flick of hot water and a smirk

the water soaked into your oversized tee, clinging to your skin as sunghoon continued to pelt you with droplets. you ran to the couch and covered yourself with a blanket, and he tackled you onto the plush cushioning, his legs tangling with yours and his hair sweeping over your nose.

when you realized that your best friend was currently lying on top of you, his hips pressed against yours and his lips only inches away, you scrambled to push him off of you, huffing "youre too heavyyy!" and "get off you weirdo"

your heart hurt when he pulled away, the knife twisting a little bit more.

you knew that any romantic relationship with sunghoon was destined to fail, that being with him was practically impossible. the fandom would go absolutely insane and sunghoon would be in too much turmoil to fix it. just rumors of dating could ruin a career in k-pop, let alone actual relationships.

so you kept your distance, or at least as much as you could. you shut down any romantic feelings because you loved sunghoon too much to jeopardize his job. sometimes, all you could hope for was a crack in the kpop world, one where "fans" wouldn't try to hurt someone for finding happiness.

"i should head to work. lock the door when you leave" said sunghoon while standing from the couch.

"sounds good! i'll finish those dishes i guess." you mutter, rolling your eyes out of a mixture of amusement and annoyance. you stand up and go into the kitchen to get to work.

back then:

sunghoon pushed his legs back and forth on the swing next to you. it had been almost two months since you two became best friends, and you were practically inseperable. every morning, you would walk to class together and talk about your soccer practice or his figure skating or whatever you thought of. it was great being able to finally have a friend to talk with and share things with.

you hand him a bag of kimchi, chewing on a piece of your own while slowly rocking back and forth on the swing.

sunghoon turned to you, opening his mouth to say something, but he stopped himself.

"what is it?" you asked, wondering what he was going to say.

"do you want to come to my competition this weekend?" his cheeks flushed when he asked you, and you laughed at his embarrassment.

"sure i'll come! i wanna see you on the ice!" you beamed at him and he grinned back, thrilled to have a friend that he could share his interests with.

now:

"hey sunoo!" you said as he stepped into the house, kicking his shoes off and giving you a hug.

"hey y/n!" he started to walk to the couch, where jake, heeseung, and sunghoon were already sitting at. sunghoon was flipping through movies, pausing at a few to see if they looked interesting.

"what do you guys want to watch?" he asked, looking at everyone.

"i personally vote rom com, but thats just me" you said, laughing when everyone rolled thir eyes in an 'as usual' way.

"im feeling that too," said jake. "theres a good one on netflix that my mom liked"

"me three," said heeseung.

"its looking like rom com, you good with that sunoo?" asked sunghoon.

"i was hoping for avengers, but that works too," he laughed when you looked at him, confused. sunoo has never once expressed interest in any action film ever.

"im kidding!" he says, and you all burst into an insane laughter.

once the movie started, you and sunghoon went to make popcorn in the kitchen.

he pulled a packet of kernels out, handing it to you. "so, feeling romantic lately?"

you scoffed. "what makes you say that?"

"come on, we both know you only watch romantic movies when youre either on your period, or have a crush. and your period was last week, so im hoping its a new crush."

you smack his bicep and roll your eyes. "number one, no, i dont have a crush. number two, youre wrong, im ovulating. youre gonna have to deal with the rom coms i guess."

his face went blank, a lost in thought look that he had on a lot these days. you wished you could see into his brain, what he was thinking, what he was plotting.

"so, youre ovulating, hmm?" he whispered, pressing his chest against your back and putting his hands on your waist. the touch made your cheeks flush. "i can think of a way to cure the... excitement."

you leaned into his touch, soaking in his warmth. you let out a small gasp when he runs his hands in between your thighs. he cups your mound, gently stroking at your sweatpant-clad skin. the intimate touch sends your nervous system into a frenzy, scrambling to make sense of what you were feeling.

your best friend of over 15 years was finally touching you where you needed him most. however, as soon as he started, he pulled away.

"not here. ten minutes." and he walked back to the couch with a slight swagger to his step and a smirk on his face.

when ten minutes had passed, you "went to use the bathroom," but really snuck into sunghoon's room, taking a seat on his bed and twiddling your thumbs nervously. what were you doing? this was not best friend behavior.

sunghoon walked in, shutting the door quietly behind him and turning to you. "before we do anything, theres something i want to tell you"

your heart was beating faster by the second, almoat loud enough to the point where you couldnt hear him talking.

"i love you, y/n. ive loved you ever since that day on the playground. you have always been my best friend, but now i want you to be more. please tell me you feel the same." his voice trembled as he laid his feelings out.

"hoonie.... of course i love you. you are the sweetest, funniest, and most amazing person i know. i want more too."

you stand up and stand in front of him, grabbing and holding his hands. you look him in the eyes and kiss him, softly, tenderly.

he moans against your mouth and grabs your hips, pulling your knee up to his waist and deepening the kiss past the territory of "tender". your cunt throbbed while waiting for him, the pressure was too much.

he brought his hand down to your sweatpants and hooked a finger under them and your panties. he slowly pulled them down your legs and went straight for your slit with his nimble fingers, sliding them in while he continued to kiss you.

you whimpered as he thrust his digits in and out of you, hitting deeper than you ever could have yourself.

you felt your insides tighten, muscles clenching and your breathing becoming labored as he continued to flick his fingers inside you.

he grinned against your mouth when you let a soft "hoonie, im gonna come" slip out. and the band in your stomach loosened as you poured all over his hands, head rolling back and legs giving out. he held you up with one arm, the other hand still in you and feeling your flow.

sunghoon pushed you onto the bed and climbed over you, licking his fingers in the sexiest way possible, then sliding them in your mouth. you tasted yourself on his fingers, an impossibly arousing sensation coursing through your body.

he pulled his fingers out of your mouth and worked at the button of his jeans. you could see his erection pressing at the zipper. deciding this was as good a time as any, you tore off your shirt and bra and leaned back down.

sunghoon came back over you and kissed you again, putting a hand on your bare breast while the other arm held him up. he slid his tounge into your waiting mouth and let his tounge circle yours. you groan against his lips as he fondles your tender flesh, pinching and rolling your hard nipple.

"h-hoon... in me... please" you whine, pleading for him to finally enter you. you felt his length hard against your stomach.

he pulled away slowly, leaving your lips hungry for more while he lifted your legs. he moved your knees over his shoulders, a position that had you leaking, your cunt insanely wet.

"tell me if i hurt you, please" he says, his breathing labored.

"unh-" you moan as he slowly enters you. his tip was so large, he just barely fit it in. you squirm, the pain both pleasing and slightly uncomforatable.

sunghoon placed his hands on your hips, holding you steady. "you got this baby, so good... so good..." he groaned when your walls clenched around his slowly furthering length.

once many sounds had come from both mouths, as well as the point of your connection, sunghoon bottomed out, his large cock fully sheathed in your aching pussy. your head lolls to the side of your pillow as he leans forward, kissing your breast.

"h-hoon... i need... go... plea- ugh!" you let a loud whine slip out as sunghoon pulls out and slides back in harshly. you hear the squelches of your pussy against his cock and blush, feeling embarrased for the unholy sounds.

sunghoon only laughs at your shyness, grinning up from your chest. he looked so beautiful, your legs around his neck, his dick buried deep in you, his hair messy and his lips swollen and red.

he continues to thrust in and out of you, whimpers escaping your mouth as he repeatedly hit that spot deep inside of you.

sunghoon placed a hand on your abdomen, feeling the bulge of his cock pounding into you. he smirked in satisfaction, his size perfectly fitting you.

your eyes roll back as you feel the band in your stomach tightening again. it felt wonderful, your sweat falling down your neck, sunghoon panting against your breasts and his tounge licking up the dew forming between your mounds. it was everything you had wanted for the last 10 years, and yet... everything felt so different. in a good way, but different.

sunghoon let his head roll back as he pumped harder into you, your pussy in so much pain, the stretch so wonderful, yet too much at the same time.

"y/n... please tell me youre close.... i need to come... with you..." he pleaded with you, and that was all it took to tip you over the edge.

"sunghoon- ohhh" you whimpered his name, strings of curses coming out of your mouth as your cum spilled over his dick and eventually the bed.

he gripped your hips tightly as ropes of his cum filled you to the brim, pouring out of you only to be desperately fucked right back in by sunghoon's still thrusting cock.

your back arched with the orgasm coursing through you, your legs slumping to the sides, the strength to hold them on sungoon's too much.

"baby.... oh my god, that was fucking wonderful," sunghoon said as he slumped over you. his chest pressed against yours, his legs tangled around you.

"mmmh- it was.... i love you so much hoon." you kiss his cheek, slowly pushing him off of you. "we should get back to the others now. theyre going to wonder where we went."

"yeah," he said, smiling at you. "but once theyre gone.... we're gonna stay up all night"

copyright- highway-143, 2025

DO NOT plagiarize, but reposting is welcome (credit is appreciated)

authors note: feel free to comment with recommendations! i need ideas hehe. im open to writing about anyone from skz, txt, enha, ateez, p1h..... basically any bg lol. please give me inspo :D

also- i hope yall enjoyed it!

[redcamellia13]

Mitsukou Analysis: Nightlife Arc

I have to be honest, I didn’t think I would get this far. I thought I would give up in the middle of these analyses, and I would be saved from making this one, but alas, here we are.

(Who am I kidding, chapter 120’s gonna be so. Much. Worse.)

This isn’t quite as important as the other events that happen in this arc, but it’s still of note how our Mitsuba becomes a smiling little angel over here, and this is Kou’s actual response: “……welp.

I don’t… why would you do that? He didn’t even answer the question! If Nene asked him that, he would probably grin and go, “yeah! :D”.

This is kind of a crack theory, however, this panel ties in ever so slightly.

Have you ever read KotLC? Not a lot of people in the TBHk fandom do, but one of the concepts in the novels is people have “heart emotions” and “head emotions”, which are two completely different things.

I believe Kou think he likes Nene, which he doesn’t, that’s simply a result of Nene being somewhat close to his type and the only girl he interacts with on a daily basis, and his mind is molding that into making him believe he likes Nene. (Kou’s head feelings).

Because of numerous circumstances, like Mitsuba being supernatural, a boy, and a wee bit of a b*tch towards Kou, Kou believes his relationship with him is somewhere between annoying kid that lives across the street, and best friend. (Also his head feelings).

But deep, deep down, in the place where his brain cannot influence his feelings into something safer, Kou has a serious crush on this boy- and The Look TM we see in these panels might signify a bit of that crush influencing his decisions. (Heart feelings.)

I dunno, but the moment I picked up TBHk, that is what I immediately thought of. By the way, please read KotLC. I started when I was in 1st grade, and it was so. Dang. Good. Changed my life, highly recommend, and kick started my reading obsession.

Basically, what’s happening in this page is Mitsuba is telling Kou he wants to die, and when Kou is understandably like, “w-wait. What? You wanna die?” Mitsuba kinda just brushes it off.

Why? I don’t have an exact answer (quite a common theme in these analyses) but we can rule a few things out right off the bat.

He’s not trying to ease Kou’s mind, or protect him from the truth since in Sacrifice of the Grim Reaper, Mitsuba actually became mad a Kou for attempting to do the same to him.

Maybe Mitsuba’s the type to always have an exit plan, and always has one foot out the door? But that seems more like an Aoi thing than anything else…

Ah yes, I was wondering when Kou’s savior complex would rear its ugly head once more.

Mitsuba is telling Kou Tsukasa is the only one who can put him back together, and procure him the supernatural hearts he needs to survive.

Obviously, Kou is not happy about this, since he wants Mitsuba to rely on him and only him, exemplified by his desires in the Red House.

So what does he do next? Make it blatantly clear he can do exactly the same thing as Tsukasa.

Kou is attempting to *checks notes* shove a “disgusting looking thing” down Mitsuba’s gullet. How lovely.

What this means for Kou’s psychology, and what he is trying to say through this, consciously or unconsciously, boils down to: “I can get you the same things as he can.”

Many people are using this scene as an example of Mitsukou’s toxicity, which is ridiculous, and I shouldn’t even have to defend/ explain this.

Yes, Kou is force feeding Mitsuba, and yes, it is without Mitsuba’s consent. We even see him protesting, telling Kou he said no.

This is the primary argument used by the aforementioned people, but what they fail to mention is Mitsuba would literally die if he stopped eating. This is not Kou being abusive, this is Kou saving his best friend’s life.

Wow. I can’t decide if Kou being furious came completely out of left field considering his personality or if I saw this coming from a mile away.

I also can’t decide whether it’s understandable why he’s so angry, or if Kou’s being unnecessarily aggressive.

On one hand, your friend is being a spoilt little baby and not eating. On the other, did you even try to convince him to eat it? Not really… he just kinda popped in with a corpse, gouged out the heart and stuck it in his face.

Kou is also this angry since he’s still dealing with the fact Mitsuba relies on Tsukasa now, not just him, and he’s taking it out on Mitsuba.

This signifies how Kou sometimes gets tunnel vision when it comes to Mitsuba, a bit like how Hanako gets tunnel vision when it comes to Nene’s lifespan- although in Kou’s case it isn’t quite so dramatic or common

(Not listening to Mitsuba in order to keep him from worrying too much in the Sacrifice of the Grim Realer Arc would be another example).

Wow, I didn’t think he would actually go and say it! He’s spilling his guts out to Mitsuba right here, and all three of the things he says are an integral part of his character.

I don’t think he has ever confessed this to any character. This is kind of a big deal, actually.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~ I’m… gonna have to stop here for now. My fingers physically hurt, and the word Mitsukou doesn’t have meaning in my mind anymore. I’ll close out the arc by next Monday.

[satoruan]

CALL ME DADDY w/Jujutsu Kaisen

More: Fem!Reader, explicit content, daddy Kink, dd/lg undertones, implied 24/7 kink play, blowjob, praise, punishment, spanking with a paddle, blood, riding, cunnilingus, squirting

Featuring: Gojo Satoru, Ryomen Sukuna, Nanami Kento & Choso Kamo

☾ Satoru Gojo  

The ‘Dad Joke’ Daddy, ’s very playful and dorky. He loves doing the stereotypical TV dad things like smoking cigars, having a world’s best dad mug, and reading the paper during breakfast. Your number one supporter, always at every event or promotion you have, and he’s the first to support you when you’re down. Because he has more life experience, he enjoys guiding you.

“Quiet baby, Daddy’s tryin' ta read the paper.” He hushes you with a firm pat on the head. You're on your knees under the table, with his cock buried as far as it can go.

“Sorry Daddy,” you whisper, taking his heavy cock out of your mouth. “I promise I’ll be quiet.” You look up at him expectantly through wet lashes.

“I know you will, love.” He smiles down at you before gently pushing your head back towards his cock. You happily shove It back into your mouth while he picks up his favorite mug and reads about the current world events.

“Such a good girl, always listenin’ to what Daddy tells you, hmm? I think you deserve an award.”

☾ Ryomen Sukuna

The 'Disciplinarian' Daddy, has very high expectations of you. Very strict with SO many guidelines and rules, it's almost like he wants you to fail so he has a reason to punish you. He’s a brat tamer who readily reminds you who's in charge. Likes to physically enforce his rules and never skips a good spanking. 

“I’m sorry Daddy, promise I am!” You sob as the wooden paddle comes down on your already bruised ass. 

“You didn't sound sorry laughin' and messin’ with me durin’ my meeting.” He grits out, forcing your hands to stay on to the side when you try to cover your ass. 

“Thought it was funny while m’ just tryin’ ta support us,” he brings the paddle down, ignoring your screams for mercy. “All you do is sit at home and’ spend my hard-earned money.”

“I'm sorry Daddy I won’t do it again.” You squirm when he rubs an especially sore spot on your ass that you know for a fact is going to sting for the next week. 

“Yea?” He slowly lets go of your hands.

“Yes! Yes! I swear Daddy, on my life!” Your sob of relief turns into a scream when he brings his hand down again. 

“What did I say about swearing things on your life, huh!?”

☾ Nanami Kento

The ‘Professor’ Daddy, he's so calm and patient with you. All he wants is to see you succeed. Likes taking you on informational dates like going to a museum or aquarium or just staying in and watching documentaries. He’s a pillar of strength, very structured and strict but also forgiving and nurturing. Loves giving you praise and seeing your face lighten up when he teaches you something interesting. 

“C'mon little girl, you can do it.” He encourages you from his place underneath you. 

“I can’t do it! ‘S too big, I’m so stupid!’ You cry out, covering your tear-ridden face from your daddy. 

He must be so disappointed, you think. 

“Hey…Hey, you can, princess, I know you can. Remember what Daddy taught you?” he pulls your hands from your face and places them on his big chest. You look into his eyes and nod.

“Yea,” he settles you over his cock. “Daddy knows he taught you how to ride, you just have to do it yourself now. C'mon perfect girl you can do it.”

With his praise you nod to yourself before slowly guiding yourself down his shaft. Once you reach the hilt you moan and smile down at him. He smiles back before nodding back expectantly. You brace your knees on the soft pillows underneath them and slowly start bouncing exactly like he taught you. 

“My perfect girl.”

☾ Choso Kamo

The ‘lowercase ‘d’ Daddy, the rare submissive daddy. He loves doing anything that pleases you and tends to be more forgiving when you break the few rules he has. He enjoys providing from a submissive mindset and being wrapped around his partner's finger. 

“Do you feel good, baby?” Chosos asks from his position underneath your dress.

“Mhm, feels so good Daddy, you always make me feel so good.” You moan when he goes back to eating you out. He says something else but it's muffled as he sucks on your clit, his fingers curl into your g-spot. 

“Right there Daddy,” You squeeze his head between your thighs. “M’gonna squirt Daddy, you’re gonna make me squirt!” You yell before releasing all over his face. 

“Fuck that felt so good Daddy.” You grin at Choso who’s come out of your now damp dress.

“Yea? You tasted fuckin’ divine babygirl.” He grins up at you. 

“Can you do me a big favor?” You blink innocently, already knowing the answer. His eyebrows frown in confusion.

“Course I will baby, what is it?”

“Can you lick my mess up off the floor, don’ want my parents to wonder why the floor is wet.”

[togament]

sakura. nirei. kiryu. togame. ume. pt. 1

You ask him innocently. Of course, being the good partner that he is, he leans in to inspect. But then you meet him in the middle in for a quick peck on the lips. How would he react?

𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐃𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐒: FLUFF FLUFF FLUFF, semi-suggestive stuff so proceed with caution, GN!Reader! (as always if I do miss something, please don't hesitate to let me know!), THE DARKSIDE OF THE SUN THAT IS NIREI AKIHIKO PLEASE BE WARNED, Togame is a lovesick fuck (and we love that), language (it's me), UME IS ADORABLE AJSDKJASKD SOMEONE HOLD ME THE FUCK BACK!!!!!

𝐒𝐀𝐊𝐔𝐑𝐀.

"wh--!!! H-hey! You can't just do that!"

✦ your boyfriend whisper screams at you, face already red as a tomato (it never fails to amaze you how quickly he blushes so deeply), hand gripping yours softly but firmly in place just in case you might do something else. You can't help but giggle at how much he's freaking out. It's adorable.

✦ Absolutely, absolutely, at loss for words. If anything, he's just sputtering. Bicolored eyes staring at you with furrowed brows and you can just TELL he's planning about doing something in retaliation. He is. Just you wait.

✦ Gotta pray you both are in public because once he gets you alone? UH OH. He's pouncing on you, pinning you down onto the nearest surface to press a lingering kiss on your lips, tongue darting out to trace the seam of it. OOOOoOOoo You're gonna get it now.

"..you're gonna pay for that."

𝐍𝐈𝐑𝐄𝐈.

"!!!!! b-b-bunny!!"

✦ much like Sakura, your man is an absolute sputtering mess. But you can tell he's trying his damn best to keep it together. If this were any other time, he could have been prepared for this, y'know?! Please warn him next time oh my god he might end up collapsing from sheer shock.

✦ You pat his back soothingly, leaning in to press more kisses on his reddened cheeks to whisper apologies and soft giggles into his skin. You can feel him smiling. Thank goodness! He lets out a cute little satisfied sigh and you smile against his cheek, pressing even more kisses into it. little did you know....

✦ Oh but before you feel like he's gotten over it, he's gathered enough nerves to let his fingers search for yours, threading his between them, another slightly trembling hand cups your cheek and you can feel his breath fanning against your lips. Swallowing dryly, he lets out a shaky breath. His tongue darts out to wet his lips before he leans in closer, heavy lidded eyes staring you down as he blurts out,

"...can I check again just in case? Please?"

𝐊𝐈𝐑𝐘𝐔.

"you're so bad."

✦ you can hear him purring almost, skilled fingers now wrapped around your waist, caressing and kneading your flesh. Before he tries anything else, he looks into your eyes, looking for assurance that he's doing the right thing, reading into it correctly. YOUR MAN KNOWS BOUNDARIES AND YOUR LIMITS HE WON'T DO ANYTHING UNTOWARD AND UNSAVORY TOWARDS YOU UNLESS YOU ASK HIM TO OH MY FUCKING GOOASDIHASD--

✦ you kind of feel like he saw through your silly little prank though by how he let out an affectionate little huff when you asked him. Of course he knows you don't have any dirt on your face. He couldn't keep his eyes off you even if he tried to. He'd wipe the dirt away before you even felt something, really. (Plus you may or may not have forgotten he pulled this prank on you before...)

✦ But once you give him the go ahead with you leaning into his touch, he takes that as a sign. He presses a gentle kiss to your cheek before taking your hand in his to press butterfly kisses onto your knuckles. Oh the jealousy the onlookers must feel right now.

"It's getting kinda late out, no? Wanna head home, love?"

𝐓𝐎𝐆𝐀𝐌𝐄.

"oho? Wanna try doing that again f'me, dolly?"

✦ OF COURSE HE ASKS YOU TO DO IT AGAIN. You don't, of course. But that doesn't mean that'd wipe the smirk off of your man's lips. If anything, he's gone bolder. You've awoken the beast, baby. He's glancing at your lips then back into your eyes with those damn emerald greens of his OIUUUhhuUHGhh!!!!!!!!! He doesn't care who's looking or where you both are right now. He's way too in love with you to even give two shits about who's looking lmao what're they gonna do????? STOP HIM FROM LOVING ON HIS BABY???? FUCK OUTTA HERE.

✦ he lets out a hum, leaning into you more to tease you a little more. How dare you pull away to match his teasing just as he's inching closer to you? How dare you deny your man the pleasure of kissing you?!!!! A large hand reaches behind you, relaxing at the small of your back to secure you closer to him. You swear you hear your heart beating out of your chest. No matter how long you've been together, he never fails to fluster you. (Of course his heart is beating just as loudly, just as fast.)

✦ You (and everybody else that dare look at you both right now, to be honest) can tell how much he's absolutely, UNABASHEDLY in love with you by how he's looking at you right now (or any time for that matter). Always keeping him on his toes with your spontaneity, he decides to respond in kind. Tracing his thumb across your lower lip, he can't help but speak just loud enough for you to hear,

"Do I got any dirt on my face?"

𝐔𝐌𝐄.

"..! Honey...! Haha! C'mon. Behave yourself. lemme check."

✦ IS COMPLETELY UNAWARE THAT WAS YOUR ENTIRE SCHTICK. YOU REALLY DIDN'T HAVE ANYTHING ON YOUR FACE BUT GOD DAMN IT WITH THE WAY HE'S LOOKING AT YOU IT MAKES YOU WISH YOU HAD MORE THAN JUST SMUDGE OF DIRT ON IT RIGHT NOW PLEASEPLAEPASLEPELA---(is dragged off the stage, microphone dropped on the floor, trail of tears snail behind me as I'm being dragged out)

✦ genuinely wants to help. Is kind of worried you're just sat there staring up at him with his hands cupping your cheeks to hold you still, giving your pretty features a once twice thrice over to see if you got any dirt on you. Eventually you have to confess that it was a prank :(((( he only chuckles, peppering kisses on your face until the both of you are giggling messes. His strong arms are around your waist now, holding you securely against him. The giggles die down as you look into each other's eyes. You could just melt right then and there. He'd follow suit of course.

✦ With an affectionate sigh, he traces his fingers along your cheeks, your jaw, your neck. Featherlike and gentle. He leans in to kiss you--God he never fails to make every kiss feel like the first time. Your heart is beating out of your chest as he pulls away with a smile. Chasing your lips for another chaste kiss, he chuckles,

"if you wanted a kissy kiss, you could have told me, y'know?"

a/n: NIREI DEBUT NIREI DEBBBUUUUUUTTTT!!!!!!!! I know for a fact Nirei's got a secret little ⟡𝓼𝓹𝓲𝓬𝔂⟡ side to him. I just know it. That damn notebook knows too much. He's gotta have something juicy--learned something juicy from it too. Also the fact that he's working so closely with Suo...... I...... I just know...... That they--he.. uh...... ////// (pulls the microphone cord off forcefully and walks off stage, slamming the door behind me you can hear my muffled screams through the hardwood.)

[tojisun]

Poor poor hockey! Simon :(

he lost and now the only thing to make him feel better is a good bj

this made me twitch so here u are my love !!!

!! comfort/smut - minors dni; hockey au; praises (in a tender way and but also in a kink way); D/s-ish; some semblance of plot ig // 2.4k words (LMAO)

the horn blows, marking the end of the game and, with that, the end of spec gru’s season.

it was heartbreaking to watch the way the boys' bodies slump, their loss descending onto them like heavy rain. the arena shakes, screams from the opposing team's fans piercing your ears, but you can't blame them, really—they won on home ice, against the leviathan of the league. it is a tremendous win for them, and a devastating loss for your side.

you feel your hand getting squeezed and you turn, looking at johnny's fiancee, seeing the way her own face is crumpled in her sadness.

"i guess that's that, huh?" she says, comforting, her voice a quiet whisper that was almost devoured by the loud cheers.

sometimes you forget that she's an athlete too; that she feels things a lot more intense than you do because she understands the grapple. the desperation. the way how everything you give and everything you put out is, at the end, not enough.

you sniffle, holding her hand tighter.

"i'm so proud of 'em," you say wetly, unable to compartmentalize your grief.

she laughs, the sound of it so empty of any humour but not any less kind.

“i am too.”

you both turn your gazes back to the rink and watch the teams shake hands with each other, the players finally amiable like they hadn’t just been tussling on ice, all sparked by the sharp tension that buzzed throughout their play.

you watch as simon takes a lap, patting the backs of his team members with his lips pursed, but otherwise he is put together. and yet here you are, shaking, lips wobbling, nose twitching because you are trying your best not to cry. it isn’t like you were the one who lost so you wonder why your heart twinges with so much pain; why is it that you are the one holding back the tears?

simon turns to the crowd, roving his eyes past bodies, until they finally lock on you. his lips twitch into a smile; you give him what you hope is a big one—the type of smile that will let him know how in awe you are of him, win or not.

they skate away and you all shuffle out, preparing for the flight back home.

.

it was expected for the players to fly back home together—a semblance of normalcy even amidst the staggering defeat. it was their last attempt at showing sportsmanship; at showing the hounding media that despite the abrupt end of their season, they remained close-knit. 

simon understands it, of course. it was a media play, one that contends with the politics of the league, but it was difficult to act impartially, especially when they were making their way back, empty-handed, from the home ice of the team that had defeated them. it was difficult to not show the turmoil in their hearts, but they all managed to hold their heads up high during the exit and that was that.

they didn’t talk about it much, avoiding that last game as best as they could until the briefing, but hunger thrums in their jowls—no one was satisfied with being the second best. 

the promise of a better next season hung above them, but it is still so unreachable.

simon feels angrier than usual, unable to stop himself from taking this loss personally. like what costed them their win were only his shortcomings; like this defeat was his sole failure because he did promise to lead his team on ice, with price unable to stand as their official captain during the games. he had promised to score the most, after all, and had promised to keep the opposing puck out of price’s net, but he failed in both and, well, here they are.

back home, anguished. defeated.

he–

simon's phone rings, a quiet trill that echoes in the empty locker room. 

he shoots awake from the swirl of his thoughts, sluggish as he pulls it out of his bag. he expected it to be laswell or keller, or maybe their coach, but simon feels his world tilt when he sees your name flashing on his screen. and just like that, like he wasn’t even drowning in his self-doubt and self-hatred, simon feels like he can breathe again. 

he feels lighter, his anguish seeping out of his pores, leaving him with nothing but his flesh and his heart and his love. 

simon picks up the call, hears your voice, then he is up and running back home. 

.

there is a sense of urgency in the way he finds you, his cold body folding into the warm touch of your own. you gasped out his name, surprised at how fast you have him back in your arms after a whole season of flying and leaving and pursuing his chance at the cup—

“i’m home, petal,” simon murmurs, his voice deep and beautiful and longing, and you giggle, your eyes watering, before you nuzzle into his chest.

he breathes you in, the faint smell of ozone and rain and something distinctly flowery fills his nose, and somehow this is what grounds him, his blood spiking as desire and need fill him up instead.

and it trickles into him like wafting smoke—soft, gentle, cascading like a warm kiss. it is still intense, hungry, but it is tender. quiet. like everything about simon’s buzzed energy had transformed into this careful folding. the anger, the desperation, all of it snuffed out for a vulnerable moment.

“baby,” you begin, voice muffled from where your head is still pressed on his chest. “love, you did so well.”

he shakes, his words failing him now. 

you pull back just enough and he sees the glazed look in your eyes as you stare up at him, your lips curled in your smile. “i’m so proud of you, si.” 

his heart stutters inside the cages of his ribs, jumping, before it lodges itself in his throat. 

you giggle at his wordless tremors and press close again, your body melting onto his again, before you tip your head back to his chest but this time, instead of a nuzzle, you greet his beating heart with a kiss. one that is so light he barely feels it from his shirt, but simon feels so shaken. 

he feels so raw. 

you are holding him like he is the best thing in this world. like all his bulk and his size and his anger is still worth this softness.

“i need you,” he croaks out, unable to stop the way his feelings bloat and rage in the pit of his stomach. 

“you have all of me,” you reply, breathless, your eyes still blown open, wide and full of wonder. then they shift, turning sharper, gaining edge; still careful, coaxing, but overwhelming. “tell me, my love. tell me how you need me.”

“fuck,” simon rasps out, feeling like he’s running out of air. his fingers twitch, digging deep into your skin, feeling it mould under his touch.

he’s missed this, alright. he’s—

“mouth,” he finally manages to bite out. “wan’ feel your mouth, love.”

“okay,” you croon, kissing his pec again. “sit f’me?”

simon doesn’t even have it in him to feel embarrassed about the way he falls to his ass on the plush mattress, bouncing a little bit because of the force, before he spreads his legs open, so, so desperate. 

you have your bottom lip trapped between your teeth, canines dimpling the flesh, and simon feels like he is burning from the inside; doused with the fires of need, spark untamable, licking up, up, up.

“come on, firelily,” he rumbles, needy. “c’mere an’ kiss me.”

you huff, fond, and fall to your knees, scooting close to him. 

it was silent as you fumble with his sweats, tugging at the drawstring and grumbling when the hem gets snugged on his hips. simon chuckles, pushing your hair out of your face before he juts up just enough to give you room to slide his sweats and his boxers down.

the cool air makes him tremble and you murmur something. it was so faint that he doesn’t get to catch what it was, but his curiosity sizzles at the sight of you licking your palm, shyly with how you refuse to meet his eyes. he almost teases you, his cheeks round with giddiness, but then you wrapped your fist around his half-chub, and his sanity is razed. 

simon hisses, eyes fluttering close at the warm curl of pleasure.

jesus. he’s missed the feeling of this; your hand is softer, more supple, around his cock. it was so different from when it was his own fist rubbing himself, beating at his angrily flushed cock with desperation only for his peak to tip over mutedly, and not enough to truly satiate his hunger.

but this? fuck. 

simon doesn’t even realize he’s whimpering, his head thrown back at the curious pace of your hand, not really jerking him off but mapping along his veins almost in quiet awe. 

“‘m not gon’ last long if you–” he gasps at a particular twist. “if you keep doing that.”

“oh, no we can’t have that,” you tease, chuckling, and simon’s reply builds on the tip of his tongue, cheeky, but then you’re already moving, your back folding, your breath hitting his sensitive head.

his thighs tense in his anticipation, his stomach locking. you flit your eyes up at him, pupils blown wide in your own ragged need, before he jerks at the feeling of your tongue pressing on the underside of his cock, licking up, and teasing his leaking slit.

simon moans, guttural, his voice caught on the back of his throat. he drops his hands to his sides, fisting at the sheets as you keep licking, teasing his slit and tracing his veins, lapping at his cock so messily. 

if he didn’t know any better, he’d think that you’re inexperienced; all sloppy and curious, like you’re attempting things you’ve probably seen in porn, but then you close the ring of your mouth around the bulbed head, suckling like it’s a goddamn loli, while your hands drop to squeeze his balls, and simon’s gone. 

“shit-!” he gasps out, battling air like he’s back on ice. 

he bucks his hips forward, unable to help himself, and only stops at the warbled sound of your surprise.

“fuck,” he hisses, hand coming up to swipe the hair from your sweaty face. “i’m sorry, darlin’. didn’t mean t’force it down. s’just that y’r so good.”

he keeps petting your cheek, overtaken by his desires and no longer able to stop the string of words trickling from his heart. “missed you lots, swee’art. missed you so much—take me deeper?”

your cheeks hollow as you hum, so obedient for him.

“yeah, jus’ like that,” simon trills, his chest rising as he breathes in deeply. his stomach flexes at the feeling of you swallowing more of him, taking his thickness past your gummy cheeks and into the wet vice of your throat. “shit, baby. christ. y’feel so fuckin’ good ‘round me. so perfect an’ wet.” he giggles, drunken in his bliss. “such a messy baby y’are. so sloppy. y’wanted my cock that much, din’ya? so hungry f’r it.”

there’s a wet slurp when he hits the deepest you could allow him, your eyes rolling to the back of your skull. you choke, your body lurching in protest, but simon is at the throes of his pleasure and his rational thoughts are devoured by his gluttonous need, and simon knows it is wrong to ask but—

“hold it in? can you do that f’r me, love?” he croons, his voice curling in his euphoria.

he knows this is playing dirty; to use your weakness—the deep rumble of his voice and the gentle beckoning—to make you weak, malleable. to make you just as desperate for him because he knows all you want to do is to be good for him even when it has you straining, your eyes filling up with tears. he knows it is wrong, but he can’t help it. he wants you this way.

and you want him like this too—his desires sharpening, shaping him to be mean and dangerous. his thickness fills you up, pressing at the roof of your mouth and trapping your tongue underneath the weight of his flesh. your larynx is stretched out, stuffed, but simon is looking at you so adoringly, his own ecstasy so dizzying, so addicting.

you nod, sniffling, finally replying to his question because you want him to feel good. because you want him to lose his restraints when it comes to you.

because you want him to use you until he’s truly relaxed, his body exhausted with something beyond his heartbreak. with something beyond his loss.

simon’s lips wobble like he knows what it is you are thinking of. 

he fucks your throat that way, gentle and sometimes slipping into something so mean it makes you squirm on your knees, the muted throb of your strained legs finally turning into staticky numbness, but you don’t complain, your jaw relaxed as you let simon use you.

he growls out his praises, his words chewed on in his peaking euphoria—nose flaring, cheeks flushed red—or lilting as he teases you—pulling his cock out enough that all that is left is the head, and you whine because you want him in, please simon. wan’ more please—

“gonna cum, sweetheart. gonna cum—fuck!—gonna—”

simon throws his head back, a blinding white filling his eyes and his ears ringing. his body trembles at the intensity of his orgasm, immense pleasure overtaking every synapses in his body until all that he feels is the feverish wrap of your mouth on him.

he flicks his eyes down, panting, and twitches at the sight you make—jaw slack, eyes faraway, skin shining with a thin sheen of sweat. 

you look, fuck, you look angelic like this.

simon cups your cheek, his thumb swiping just underneath your teary eye. you focus back to him slowly, blinking owlishly. 

“shh,” he croons, gentle. “i’ve got you, darlin’. i’ve got you.”

a whine builds from the back of your throat and simon hums, responding to your wordless babble, trying to ease you back down from the fog. he continues to hold you even amidst his oversensitivity, waiting so patiently so he can take care of you now.

yeah, he thinks to himself as he continues to return your unblinking stare. i’m glad to be back home. 

hope this was good :'33 once again pls dont judge me for my blatant self-indulgence hhHHHHH oki oki mwah!!

[subbmissivesuccubus]

I will get on all fours and bark for you to make the “oh my god you were going to die” thing but with the upper moons and muzan 😭🙏(IT SUCKS THAT WE CANT ADD LINKS)

Thank you guys for 3K followers! I'm glad so many of you enjoy my stuff and I can't wait to keep providing more smut to feed <3

By popular demand, here's part 2 of this! Enjoy~

Disclaimer : Fem Reader X Muzan | Kokushibo | Akaza | Douma | Hantengu clones

As a demon living an immortal life, you knew that death and hell wasn't something you were going to experience anytime soon.

But unfortunately for you, your husband seems insistent on giving you a preview.

You tried to take in deep breaths, having never felt this exhausted even when fighting against demon slayers who were actively trying to kill you. You don't even remember why your partner was mad at you! Sure, you didn't manage to kill the Hashira you recently fought but you came back alive! Isn't that a thing worthy of celebration?

Instead, he took you to the bedroom to really teach your the consequences of failure.

Which is how you found yourself naked, sweaty and exhausted, lying flat on your back as your brain started to work again- just to realize your husband was sliding between your legs to start another round, jerking his cock as he got ready to slip inside you once more.

You gasped and on instinct started to move away, your elbows digging into the mattress as you pathetically dragged yourself towards the headboard to try and get some distance but-

Muzan suddenly shifted positions, your brain so muddled by the pleasure and over stimulation that you didn't realize you were now straddling him until he slapped your tits harshly. He was angry- his eyes glowing that dangerous red that usually got you hot and bothered but now- sent a shiver of fear down your spine. Not only did you let a Hashira escape- but now you're trying to run from him?

He won't have it.

"Ride me. Now." he said, hands on your hips as his cock stood erect underneath you, throbbing in anticipation, covered in your sticky juices.

"M-My Lord-" you babbled, tears filling your eyes and you didn't dare to try and escape again, "I-I can't. Too s-sensitive-"

"Ride my cock or you won't live to see tomorrow."

With a broken sob, you quickly placed one hand on Muzan's chest, your body crying for a break as the other one slid underneath you to grab his cock and keep it steady, your poor thighs trembling as you lifted yourself up before sinking down on his member. You knew his threat was empty but...it was always best to not risk it.

Kokushibo noticed you were about to crawl away but instead of grabbing your hips and pulling you back like you expected he would, his hand instead shot out to clamp around your neck. You gasped, air caught in your throat as his many eyes narrowed at you, giving you a look of disappointment as you writhed against his choking. Did you necessarily need air to live? No. Was it uncomfortable? Yes.

Was it sexy? Also yes-

"What do you say?"

Your face was turning red, tears prickling your eyes as his fingers seem to tighten. "S-Sorry- m' s-sorry-" you managed to choke out despite his best attempts.

"Good girl. Now present yourself to me."

With his hand still on your neck, your spread your legs wide, even bringing your hands down to push apart your pussy lips, baring you every inch of your cum stuffed cunt. With a grunt of approval, Kokushibo slipped inside you, giving you a break as he let go of your neck just as he started his intense pace.

"D-Darling- oh fuck- please-" you babbled between gasps and pants, tits bouncing as your poor cunt was once again pounded within an inch of her life, not even given a minute to rest and recover.

"Cease your pointless crying." he simply stated, his abs flexing as he rutted into you, "If you find it so unpleasant, don't fail next time."

Akaza is usually so sweet when you two have sex. But when he's frustrated with you- he will let. you. know.

The second he saw you trying to move away from him, he grabbed you by the knees before flipping you onto you stomach like you weighed nothing. The next moment, he was lying on top of you, his body weight keeping you pinned down as he slipped his cock back inside you in a classic prone bone. You squealed, unable to move as he started rolling his hips into you, the position making his cock reach deep- deep- deep inside you.

"A-Akazaaaa-" you squeal, your cries a bit muffled by the mattress, "S-slow down- please-c-can't take it-"

"You can't take it?" Akaza growled into your ear, rolling his hips in circles so his fat tip can bully your g-spot mercilessly, "No wonder you couldn't kill that Hashira. If you can't handle- hah- this, then you can't handle a battle. So consider this your training, my love."

"P-Please- I just need a break- I can't- ah fuck- you're so deep!"

"You can take it. Be my good girl. Besides, our Lord wants to know if you can get pregnant, remember? You're not getting away from me until you're knocked up."

Douma simply laughed as he watched you try and escape him, his kaleidoscopic eyes twinkling even more beautifully than usual as his sadistic tendencies got satiated seeing your fear and exhaustion. But of course, he wasn't going to let you go. With a flick of the wrist, you gasped as your ankles were suddenly encased in ice that trailed down to the floor, keeping you in place. You could try to break out of it, but your husbands hand on your cunt rid you of all thoughts except for pleas.

"D-Douma- honey- please-"

"Shhhh, sweet thing." He purred, giving your kitty gentle pets, "I'm just going to teach you a lesson before I breed you again~ Let's make this pretty pussy as red as your ass is, hmm?"

"No please- i'll be good- I promise!"

"Why are you so scared honey?" Douma asked in mock concern, his bottom lip jutting out in a pout as he cooed at you, "Oh, you really don't like it when I spank your cunt, do you? It hurts so badly, doesn't it?"

"Yes- it hurts so much!" you complained, your eyes welling up with tears at the threat. You loved it when he punished you but fuck- it hurt!

"Poor sweet thing! I have an idea then." you watched as an ice cube materialized in his hand, clutched between his fingers as he said:

"How about we make her numb first then?"

It was difficult enough to take on the Hantengu clones even when they were being nice, but when they were punishing you? It was downright impossible. But they didn't care.

"And where do you think you're going, missy?" Urogi asked, a grin on his face as he slid in to sit behind you, quickly stopping your attempt at getting away. He grabbed your arms and pulled them above your head, catching your wrists with one hand and restraining you.

"Is it too much for you?" Karaku teased on your right, holding your knee and pushing it open to expose your sex. His hand slid between your legs and his fingers glided between your pussy lips, cooing as he made contact with your slick and cum, "Your poor, sweet cunny is all fucking and stuffed huh? Must be so difficult to take more~"

Aizetsu whined even as he bent down to take your left nipple into his mouth, whining even more as you squealed at the sensation of his tongue against your raw, sensitive nipple. "M-Maybe we should give her a break..." he suggested after giving your bud a few sucks, still laying his head against the fat of your breast as he pulled at your left knee, "We've made her cum...and cum inside her so many times...i'm sure she's learned her lesson."

Before you could latch onto Aizetsu's words and beg for mercy, Sekido slid between your legs, his frown even angrier if that was even possible. He glared at you as he tugged at his cock, clicking his tongue as you tried to wiggle your hips away when he pressed his tip against your entrance.

"Don't you dare try to fucking run away." he snarled as he pushed into you, his cock sliding back into your poor, fucked out cunt. You gasped, tossing your head back against Urogi's shoulder as you were filled up once more, instantly knowing that you had pissed off Sekido by your anticts by his instant break-neck pace.

"You're only done when we say you're done." Karaku purred against your ear, licking said ear as Sekido pounded your pussy, making you babble stupidly as his cock slammed against your cervix, "And you're not going to be done for a long time~"

[mxltifxnd0m]

drunken words ↼ d. winchester

summary: drunk you isn't the best at keeping their mouth shut

pairings: dean winchester x reader, dean winchester x gn! reader, platonic sam winchester x reader

requested: yes/no: by @traiitorjoe; thank you for sending your request!

word count: 3.0K

warnings: no use of 'y/n', none really, some cursing, a little bit of fluff, sam being a meddling little shit, some angst, kinda edited

a/n: i got this request in july and i felt so bad for having put it off for so long but here we have it! there is a potential for a pt.2 so if anyone wants that lmk lol

but enjoy the fic! please like, comment, and reblog!! your feedback fuels me!

[here's my taglist; read rules before sending in an ask]

𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘯 𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵

Dealing with the Winchesters always felt like a Herculean task when you would run into them while you were on a hunt. The first time you ran into them was when they barged into the farmhouse that you were staking out for a nest of vampires. They went in, guns blazing, and you cursed them out under your breath as you hurriedly left the hiding spot you were in and rushed into the nest to help them clean out. 

It was safe to say that they were surprised and confused by your anger when you guys had killed all of the vamps. You didn’t recognize them at first when they first ran into the farmhouse, but now that you were standing there and really looking at them, you instantly knew that these were the infamous Winchester brothers you’d heard from Bobby and other hunters.  

Regardless of who they were, you were furious that they had messed up the hunt that you were on, and they were on the receiving end of your fury while they looked at you dumbfounded. After you were done yelling at them, you left the farmhouse fuming and decided to leave them with the cleanup job. 

The brothers were so confused by you that they didn’t even think to ask for your name. They also were slightly scared by your fury, and they failed to realize that you clearly knew who they were, but they had no idea who you were, only that they had taken over your hunt and were really mad about it. Dean only hoped that he wouldn’t run into you ever again. 

But as fate was a fickle thing, you would run into the brothers on your next hunt in a small town in Oregon, where a witch was terrorizing the men of the town, and it just so happened that you had arrived at the station the same time they did. You had to play along with them until you got the information you needed, and then when you tried to leave the station before them, a hand slammed your door before you could get into your car. 

You turned around to be met with emerald green eyes filled with irritation and thinly veiled curiosity. 

“Did you need something Winchester?” You said with a scowl etched into your face. 

Dean scoffed as he crossed his arms over his chest. “Yeah, answers. Who the hell are you?” 

“What’s it matter to you?” 

“Because you’re a hunter and we could use some help on this case.” Sam interjected, and your eyes were ripped away from the man in front of you. You almost forgot about the taller Winchester that was lingering behind Dean. 

You raised an eyebrow at Sam while Dean’s head jerked over his shoulder and glared at his brother. Sam stared back at his brother with raised brows, sending him a look that said, ‘What? It doesn’t hurt to ask.’ 

“I don’t think your brother here is keen on working with me.” 

“You’re damn right I’m not. You went off on us for no reason and left us to clean up.” 

You couldn’t help but smirk at the thought of them cleaning up the plethora of severed heads and bodies from that farmhouse. But you ignored Dean's words as you contemplated the offer Sam was proposing. 

“Fine I’ll help, but you’ll have to follow my lead on this one.” 

Sam nodded, agreeing with you, and sent you a dimpled smile. 

Dean opened his mouth to protest but was cut off by you slicing the air with your hand in front of his face. 

“Zip it Winchester, either you listen to me or I leave you high and dry on this hunt.” You waved around the copy of the case file that you convinced the Sheriff to give you before leaving the station. 

Dean all but glared at you and stomped towards the black Chevy Impala that was parked down the street. You couldn’t help but smirk at Dean’s grumpy attitude, and Sam told you which motel they were staying in and followed them to it. 

With three heads instead of one (more like two since Dean barely did any research and stuck you and Sam with it), you guys found the witch in no time and disposed of her swiftly. You had to admit that working with the brothers was more manageable than working on your own. But you knew that this had to be a one-off occurrence because you had heard about all of the craziness that surrounded the Winchesters. You were not keen on being pulled into any of it. 

Once the hunt was over, Sam gave you his number and told you to call if you needed help or vice versa. You took it to be polite, but you knew that you weren’t going to call them unless your life depended on it. The three of you went your separate ways before Destiny decided to play her games, and somehow, you ended up working on most of the hunts the brothers were working on. 

It’s like some higher power wanted you to work the Winchesters against your better wishes. Alas, you ended up working with them every time because you couldn’t resist Sam Winchester’s pleading puppy dog eyes. But you got on quite well with Sam, and he slowly became a good friend of yours. 

But your relationship with Dean, on the other hand… Well, let’s just say you had a mutual hatred for each other. You guys practically fought like cats and dogs anytime you interacted, and the two of you couldn’t help but let snide comments leave your lips each time the other was wrong or messed up. Both of you bickered like an old married couple that should have divorced a long time ago, so much so that Sam had to be the mediator constantly if you were to work with the brothers. If he hadn’t, he wasn’t sure if you were either going to throw a punch or fuck each other. 

Dean Winchester is an incredibly infuriating man, and you hated that you found him attractive. It wasn’t lost on you that both of the brothers were hot, like they should be on the cover of a magazine hot, but there was something about Dean that drew you to him more. You didn’t want him to know that, so you hid your attraction for him through your sarcastic demeanor. Eventually, Sam had enough of your bickering that held so much sexual tension that he locked the two of you in the motel room he and Dean were sharing until the two of you could have a civil conversation. 

Sam had left the two of you for a couple of hours. He was half expecting to find the two of you naked in Dean’s bed, but when he unlocked the door, he saw the two of you on separate beds and watching a random movie that was playing on the TV in the room.

In the time that Sam was gone, you guys had bickered and gotten in each other’s faces, but you eventually admitted that it was tiring to keep up the fact that you didn’t exactly hate Dean since the moment you met him and to your surprise, he admitted the same thing. After that, you guys sat on separate beds, finding some common ground between the two of you, and watched whatever was on the TV. 

After that incident, the two of you still argued like a married couple, but there wasn’t any heat behind your words, and it turned into friendly banter between you and the older Winchester. Months went by, and you found yourself as the unofficial third partner to the brothers, accompanying them on the majority of the hunts that they picked up.  

You didn’t know how it happened, but to your utter shock and horror, along the way of becoming friends with Dean Winchester, you developed feelings for him. Of course, you had no idea when you started to feel like this around Dean. Sam was perceptive, caught onto your change in behavior, and had basically interrogated you when he saw you glare at the woman Dean decided to take home that night, trying to ignore the stinging sensation in your chest as he left the bar the three of you were at. 

You had vehemently denied that you felt anything for Dean, but all Sam said in response was a shit-eating grin and gave you a look that said, ‘Yeah, you’re lying, and I know it.’ 

Once Sam had figured out that you liked his brother, he stopped at nothing to leave the two of you alone in hopes that you’d put on your big kid pants and admit your feelings towards him (spoiler alert, you never did). As much as you loved Sam, you honestly wanted to punch him in the face every time he urged you to tell Dean about your feelings. 

You knew that Dean wasn’t a touchy-feely kind of guy, and you definitely knew that he wasn’t one for love or relationships, as evident with the women he picked up at bars after successful hunts. Did your heart clench any time you saw the satisfied smirk on his face the morning after the night out at the bar? You wouldn’t admit it to anyone but yourself, but yeah, it did. 

Now, after a successful hunt, you and the Winchesters found yourselves at the bar across the street from the motel you were staying in. The three of you were at a booth at the corner of the bar, and you had gotten the first round of drinks for each of you. But when Dean volunteered to grab the third round (Sam had gotten the second one), Sam said he was turning in for the night and shot you a sly smile, and you knew exactly what he meant by it. You glared at him briefly before telling him goodnight through gritted teeth (Dean had seen this interaction between you and his brother and was confused by it but brushed it off).

Sam left, and Dean turned to you. “Still want a drink?” He asked. 

You nodded in response, and Dean shot you a small smile before his knuckles knocked on the table, and he made his way toward the bar. A couple of minutes had passed, and Dean wasn’t back from the bar. You looked up from your empty glass to see him being chatted up by a woman dressed to the nines, and clearly, Dean was into her. 

You let out a harsh breath before shaking your head, getting up from the booth, heading to the opposite side of the bar Dean was at, and ordering a vodka soda. You downed in quickly and told the bartender to keep the drinks coming. You didn’t know how many you had until you heard a gruff voice telling the bartender to give you water instead of another drink. You could vaguely recognize Dean’s voice through your drunken haze. 

You turned around in your seat to see Dean right next to you with furrowed brows. “You alright there, kid?” 

Dean hadn’t seen you this drunk before, so he was half concerned but also half amused by the cute pout you had on your face. 

“M’not a kid.” You slurred out, irritated. You hated the nickname that Dean had given you; you weren’t much younger than Dean, you were the same age as Sam. 

“Then why are you pouting like you didn’t get the candy you asked for?” Dean asked, his tone amused. 

You couldn’t help but scowl at him and look around for the woman he was talking to earlier. “Where’s the girl-*hiccup* you were talking to?” You questioned, dazed. 

Dean’s face had scrunched up. “Turns out she plays for the same team.” He muttered lowly, but you managed to hear it through the bar chatter. 

You couldn’t help but burst out in drunken giggles at Dean’s failed attempt to take someone home. Dean looked at you, slightly embarrassed, but couldn’t help but smile at the sound of your laughter. 

“Okay, we should probably get you back to your room.” Dean coaxed you off of the bar stool you were sitting on before paying for the tabs and leading you out of the bar. Dean had tucked you into his side as you walked on wobbly legs across the street to the motel. 

Once you reached your room (which was coincidentally right next to the boys’ room). Dean asked where you had your key. You were leaning into Dean, so his question was spoken into your ear quietly, and it sent a shiver down your spine. 

“M’back pocket.” You mumbled out. 

You didn’t see this as your eyes were closed as you rested your head against his shoulder, but his eyes widened at the realization that he’d have to grab it from your jeans pocket. 

“If you remember this in the morning, please don’t punch me, I swear I wasn’t trying to cop a feel.” He had muttered something else under his breath, but you were too out of it to notice what he said. 

Dean managed to get your room key out of your pocket and unlocked your door. He led the two of you inside, and when you saw your bed, you quickly ripped yourself from Dean’s embrace and fell face-first into bed, uncaring if you were still in jeans. 

Dean chuckled at you, and you looked up at him with a pout. “Are you laughing at me?”  

He shook his head, trying to stifle his amusement. “No, of course not.” 

You squinted suspiciously at him before sitting up and pawing at your combat boots. You were fumbling with the laces until you felt a warm hand cover yours. You looked up and found Dean kneeling on the floor in front of you. You couldn’t help but stare at him as he untied your boots for you and pulled them off of your feet. 

“You’re pretty.” You couldn’t help but blurt out drunkenly. 

Dean laughed, his green eyes sparkling with mirth. “Maybe I should get you drunk often, maybe you’ll compliment me more.” He sent you one of his smug smirks before standing up and heading toward the small kitchenette in your room.

He filled a glass with water before heading to the bathroom. He grabbed some aspirin that was stored in the medicine cabinet (you had no idea that he knew where you stored your painkillers). He came over to the bed with the water and painkillers and set them on the nightstand.

As he was bustling around your room, you had managed to wiggle off your jeans and get underneath the covers of the bed.  You looked at Dean underneath the warm lighting of the lamp that illuminated the room. His freckles were prominent in this lighting, and you couldn’t help but stare at his side profile. 

Dean noticed your intense gaze on him and smirked down at you after setting the water and aspirin on your nightstand. “See something you like?” He gently teased. Dean felt his hand twitch, trying to resist the temptation to brush back the stray hairs on your forehead. 

“Mhm, I like your face.” You smiled in a drunken bliss before your eyes fluttered. “I like you a lot actually.” You said before you felt the pull of sleep tug at your eyes. 

Your eyes shut, and your breathing evened out as you succumbed to sleep, leaving Dean standing in shock next to you. He looked down at your sleeping form before shaking his head. He’d deny the fact he felt his heartbeat quicken at your drunken admission. Dean quickly left your room and entered his shared room with Sam. 

Lucky for him, Sam was sound asleep in his bed, and Dean quickly got ready for bed, trying to ignore the fact you may or may not have shared the same feelings as he did. 

You woke up with a groan. Your head was pounding. You saw through your bleary eyes that there were some painkillers left out with a glass of water right next to them on your nightstand. You sat up as quickly as you could and grabbed the things off the nightstand. You downed some of the water before taking the aspirin and then drinking the rest of the water. 

You put the glass back on the nightstand before crawling back under the covers, wanting to let the ache in your head subside slightly before getting ready for the day. But fate was not on your side because pounding came from your door, making pain shoot through your head, and Dean waltzed into your room with a bag of food and a wide smirk on his face. 

“Rise and shine, kid!” He said enthusiastically. 

You shot up from your spot on the bed and glared at him. “I hate you. And stop calling me kid.” 

“Well, that’s not what you said last night.” Dean smirked knowingly. 

Your heart dropped to your stomach; what the hell did you say last night? “What do you mean?” 

Dean placed the food on the table before leaning on its edge. “Do you not remember what you said last night?” 

You shook your head. “Nope. Last thing I remember was you leading me out of the bar.” 

Dean's smirk faltered. He wasn’t expecting that. “You don’t remember anything at all after that?” 

“No. Why did I say anything important?” 

Dean cleared his throat, trying to seem nonchalant and hide what he was actually feeling. He shook his head. 

“Uh, no. But I got you some grub, we’re gonna head out in 30 so be ready then.” He said stiffly before leaving the room. Not looking at you once before the door closed with a click. 

You stared at the door, confused. That was probably the most awkward Dean had ever been around you. But you shook it off and decided to pack up and eat the breakfast Dean got you. 

You’d figure out what you said to Dean later. 

[all-purpose-dish-soap]

Youve mentioned that shark soap is the first to use remora (I can't spell today) reader as a sex toy.

Does this possibly infer that someone else is the second 🤔

I 100% see it as price though. Or gaz,

hot filth coming right up <3

(shark mer 141 + remora mermaid reader au)

it’s Price. definitely Price the second time. probably because after Soap got to you, you became a little insatiable and you know... sleeping next to Price at night... things happen.

and Price is not opposed to Gaz joining in. (. ★ ᴗ ★.)

when it’s time to go to bed, Price lays back with you in his sandy cave nest. you press up into him and coil your tail, pressing the soft warmth of your body against his. even yawning and sleepy as you are, you know what your job is.

you set to work grooming his scales, his chest. you work your specialized palms meticulously across the planes of his body, leaving nothing untouched; no buildup of salt or grime unscraped.

it takes time. he’s much taller and broader a creature than you are.

he makes himself comfortable in his bed of sand, stretches out, and huffs as you situate yourself more firmly on top of him. your tail curls around his hip. he gives a low, pleased rumble. each brush of your nimble fingers soothes his mind and his ego. prized pet.

the sensation is strange—not quite a massage, but a satisfying feeling all the same. his muscles twitch as you brush over his chest. The beginnings of arousal coil in his stomach, and his scales grow warmer under your touch despite the cool water around them.

“that’s it,” he rumbles, placing his large hand on your hip. “keep going.”

you hum in acknowledgement.

under you, you feel him begin to unsheathe. you’re not surprised. this is the nightly routine, after all.

⬇ nsfw, d/s flavors + objectification, size diff, monster dicks, merman sex ⬇

you press your hips to his in idle response and line his emerging spear up to your sheath.

his hand on your hip gently squeezes. he shifts his body slightly to angle you properly.

“you’re in a rush, pet,” he chides, though he makes no move to stop you. in fact, he leans his head back. “you know i like to take my time.”

you bite your lip as the first cockhead pops out of his tail and directly into your slit. just the bulbous tip has your stomach muscles clenching. “s-sorry.”

“i know you are.” his fingers dig into your flesh in warning as you try to move. “but i’m not going to fuck you just like that.”

you rock against him anyway. as best you can—plant your palms on his chest and arch your back to better grind yourself down. he watches you writhe and buck against him like an animal in heat.

his free hand comes up to trace down your curved spine. “you’re being greedy. be good and let me set the pace.”

“mmhmm—!”

you try to slow, but you can’t. you want to be full. he smiles a slow, wicked smile. the tension in your body as you struggle to hold yourself back and fail is so pleasing. you look like you feel so empty without him.

“you’re being so naughty. is this how a good pet behaves, hm? trying to take more than you’re given?” he slides his hand around to your rear and squeezes it. “you’re going to wait until i say you can. you’re here to be used, not to beg me for what you want.”

you nod quickly. but still you rut your hips. you can catch him just right on your sensitive nub—

“stop that. you aren’t going to push me into going any faster.” he knows exactly where you’re trying to get him to touch you. he knows exactly how desperate you are. he gives your rear a firm slap. “behave.”

you whine. you make the prettiest little sounds when you’re desperate like this. you make so much noise, in fact, that Gaz stirs outside.

his voice echoes outside the cave. “sir?”

Price’s eyes don’t leave you. “what is it?” he calls back.

“is something wrong?” Gaz replies, hesitant.

“quite the opposite.”

you keep silent, now trying in earnest not to squirm. you can’t imagine Price wants to be found out like this—to be seen in so compromising a position.

you’d be wrong.

while you watch the dark cave entrance with wide eyes, Price pinches your nipple. you let out a loud gasp, bucking in shock.

Price grins. Gaz is right outside, listening to every sound with appropriate concern—why not take advantage of the opportunity? he wants Gaz to know.

he pinches again. harder. “come on, pet. make some noise for me.”

you cry out at the command, helpless to contain your pleasure.

he grows harder under you. “that’s a good girl,” he purrs. then he raises his voice. “Gaz, come.”

Gaz—pressed as close to the entrance of the cave as he could be without physically transgressing—is there in moments.

Price doesn’t so much as raise his eyes to Gaz in greeting. he simply shifts, finally pushing his cock into you to make you arch and better display you to his new audience. you struggle to suppress your whines, fins curling up behind you despite your best efforts.

Gaz’s gaze turns hungry and lingering. for all his performative concern, he must’ve been expecting this. but he doesn’t encroach. he doesn’t crowd you. he waits to be invited. permission must be granted before he can do anything but hover, eyes glued to you both.

“i said come. closer,” Price commands. “come look at my pretty toy.” he presses his hips up into yours, feeling himself slide deeper. your fingers flex and curl against his chest. such a small fish compared to them. a toy indeed.

soon, Gaz is pressed against your back, his hands feeling you up and down. Price is feeling indulgent—toward both of you—and Gaz is nothing if not an opportunist.

you get much, much more than you begged for. Price’s rough hands, his slow thrusts, the sweetened way orders fall out of his mouth like praise. Gaz’s steadying grip, his teeth on your shoulder, his cocks rutting into the curve of your spine, your ass.

following orders, isn’t he? both of you.

and you keep following those orders even after Price spends himself in you once—you clenching around him in euphoria after edging yourself so long awaiting his satisfaction; Gaz’s hands guiding his superior’s second cock into you with such rote efficiency you wonder who he wants to touch more. you’re swollen and used, and Price’s second cock feels bigger than the first. it’s all you can do to keep your eyes open as Gaz grabs your hips and pumps you up and down for Price’s pleasure.

Price watches with a lazy smile. it’s debauched. Gaz’s desperate need to please his superior; your willingness to be reduced and devoured; the way Gaz slides his own cock into you quietly; the way you take both his and Price’s without complaint despite the immense stretch. you arch between them, wrecked and writhing as they use you both for their own pleasure.

the friction of Gaz’s cock against his sends heat up Price’s spine, and he pulls out and fucks up into you, watching his length and Gaz’s disappear into your slit over and over until he cums again.

“such a good little pet,” Price growls through his teeth, low and sweet. “aren’t you?”

you promise you are. and you continue to be even when Price flips you over, putting you on your back as an offering to gaz.

it’s different when Gaz is having his way with you. it’s all for Price’s pleasure, the way he watches, the way he directs you—two of his favorite toys. Gaz keeps you open and on display to his superior and fucks you every way he knows Price likes.

each time Gaz speaks to you, touches you, moves you, it’s to please Price. but that’s what possesses you both—drives you and Gaz to the edge of your sanity, filled up by the overwhelming desire to please the man who watches you. you’re both props to each other. you’ve never wanted anything more.

as Gaz’s gentle orders turn strict and harsh, Price’s praise softens.

their words bleed together, and by the time they’ve had their fill of you, you’re more spent than you’ve ever been. a boneless, exhausted puddle, used and marked and bruised and deliriously happy.

Price runs his hand over the marks left over. handprints. bite marks. claims of ownership.

Gaz knows better than to hesitate. he wastes no time moving away with a nod from his superior. Price intends to enjoy his handwork—your weary form—alone.

you’re left gasping, body trembling and slick with spent pleasure. your hair is tangled, your body marked with bites and scratches, your eyes hazy from pleasure and exhaustion. despite it all, Price curls his big hand around your cheek. “are you satisfied?”

“if... if you are. sir.”

he smiles at the quivering of your voice, the way you still seek to please. “you don’t have anything else you’re craving, pet?”

it’s a teasing question. he knows you have nothing left to give, even if you wanted to.

your body twitches under his fingers as they trace you, sensitive from so much use. he sees how you shiver when he touches the bite marks left by Gaz’s possessive teeth. satisfaction coils in his stomach at the sight.

still. it’s a trick question to you. you can’t be sated until he is—you don’t want to be.

you press into his side and let your hand wander over his chest in a way that could be sweet or suggestive, depending on where his mind lingers.

it’s tempting to give you more. but he elects instead to sweep you into his arms and bury his face in your chest. you curl around him with a sweet sound.

“insatiable thing,” he rumbles. “sleep. you’ll have much more to tend to in the morning.”

more mer au / more Price / more Gaz / masterlist

[obeymeluv]

In Your Defense [PT 3 - Ignihyde]

You decide to work at Sam's for Valentine's Day and your crush just happens to hear a customer hitting on you. If they get arrested, can you be their alibi?

AKA: This person has a death wish and you find out your crush might be jealous?

Note: Each one is random and some will be longer than others. If I made everyone the same length this thing would be MASSIVE and I would probably die.

Not proofread because of the length.

Whatever part Ortho is in will be platonic, obvs.

Happy V-day!

**Need to go to bed for work tomorrow so Diasomnia will be on my next day off. Can't stay up long enough to squeeze it in**

If there was one thing Idia hated, it was going out in public. He hated how the sun burned his eyes, all the bugs flying around, the way people looked at his hair, and almost had a heart attack at the idea that he'd have to talk to people.

Major bummer. 0/10, don't recommend.

But he'd suck it up and soldier on because the call of sweets was too tempting to resist. The trek to Sam's isn't the longest from Ignihyde but it's enough to make him pace himself.

Yeah, he's not really an outside person. Or a physical activity person outside of dancing to Premo or working on his projects.

He briefly wonders if Ortho put Sam up to this as he finds his second wind and ascends the hill. Who has a bomb sweets sale and DOESN'T ALLOW ONLINE PURCHASES?! WHY WERE THE DISCOUNTS IN-PERSON ONLY?

Idia breaths a sigh of relief and fixes his hoodie before mustering up his courage and opening the door. He's throwing himself into the proverbial lion's den, into an introvert's worst nightmare!

The noise and people are almost too much but he distracts himself with all the pink and red. Mercifully, the candy is spread out around the store so he doesn't have to stay in the sea of people. Idia doesn't discriminate when it comes to sweets; he gets soft cake rolls, pixie sticks, little donuts, a few chocolate bars, and a couple of limited edition dessert drinks. He's secretly glad Sam's regular stock didn't take a hit because of the holiday; his snack stash needs replenishing. Packs of ramen and little things of convenience bury his sweets stash but he's careful not to crush anything.

He can almost hear Ortho nagging him to get something green or slightly healthy. If he doesn't, Ortho will be mad at him for a week. It becomes a battle of wits between the Shroud brothers and Ortho is the king of juvenile inconveniences. Idia has learned the hard way; Ortho resets his alarms, throttles his wi-fi, messes with his lights, takes apart his tablet or takes it off charge in the middle of the night, and just about anything else he can think of.

Idia begrudgingly puts some green smoothies in his basket. Along with some pudding cups.

Satisfied with his raid, he waits in line. He's chanting to himself the whole time: just walk, don't make eye contact! Just walk, don't make eye contact! The line stalls enough for someone to bump into him and he panics, stumbling forward into the person in front of him. His hair flickers and flares a little in his panic.

People give him space and he babbles a quick apology. He pulls his hoodie up over his hair but it doesn't hide everything. It makes him feel safe, though. He relaxes a little.

Then, he hears it.

HOW MUCH DO YOU COST?!

Oof. MAXIMUM cringe. NO ONE on campus has a charisma stat high enough to make THAT work! Except Kingscholar and Schoenheit, maybe.

It gets worse when he realizes someone said that TO YOU.

OH NO! HE HAS COMPETITION!

The tactic looks like it failed, though, so he's comforted. You wouldn't go for something so cheap and cheesy! This guy looks like a D-level tank AT BEST. You're an SSR easy. D-levels and SSR's don't go together!

He's an SSR when it comes to stealth and technical skill so maybe one day you guys can link up or whatever. Your choice. The tips of his hair turn pink and he blows on the closest strand to mute the color.

The guy is doubling down. "You're rolling a one, pleb. A hard one." Idia whispers to himself.

"You say somethin', Shroud?" the guy turns to him.

FUCK, HE KNOWS HIS NAME?!

Idia's hair roars to life with surprise. He yanks the hoodie down before the fabric singes and crisps. His strands are wild, untamed, and yellow. His instinct is to stutter and deny it, to backtrack, but your eyes are just shy of pleading and it makes him swallow the word soup.

"I-I said you're rolling a hard one. Y-You're failing!" Idia doesn't know if he's going to faint first or if his legs will give out. His heart might go first.

The guy clearly doesn't get the reference. The brain is buffering and the lag is too great. He shakes his head with a sharp, toothy smile, unable to help himself. Dumb normie, Idia gives a breathy chuckle. Idia has that unfortunate condition where his face talks for him and it must've said some shit because the tank is now laser-focused on him.

You're over the counter before he can process anything, grabbing the guy by the back of his shirt and telling him to leave. The guy just jerks his shoulders and stays the course. Idia sees you get ripped over the counter and tumble to the floor. You recover decently and grab the closest thing to you but something about the sound of your body hitting the floor sends him into a rage he'd only felt in online arguments.

It feels like his veins are burning. He can tell by the size of his shadow and the light dancing across the floor that his hair is long and ferociously orange. Raging orange. Lethal orange.

"Caution," Idia manages somehow through his rage. "C-Contents are hot." he knows he has to stay put. If he approaches the guy he will LITERALLY catch on fire. It's not a bad idea, and he can see the gears spinning in the guy's head. He's wondering if Idia's going to do it or if he has enough time to hit the door.

The guy chooses the door.

It takes several minutes for Idia to calm down. His hair seems to shrink as he deflates into his usual quiet mannerisms. It's shorter than normal! "Used up all my fuel," Idia complains as he drags himself to the counter. "Need calories." he melts pitifully into the counter.

"You need to buy what you burned, too." Sam points to the singed chips and snacks. He already has a few packs that are beyond saving in his arms. Idia realizes the shop is basically empty now and finds the energy to blush. Pink cheeks look really cute against his blue hair!

"Does this mean I'm done for the day?"

"Yes." Sam looks at you. He's not mad or disappointed, but he means you're done. "I think you're a bit of a fire hazard." he teases.

You both blush.

None of this was in his decision tree! WHAT DOES HE DO?

"You, uh, you want to come by Ignihyde and, um, watch some stuff? You don't have to if you don't want to, of course. I just, you know, since it was my fault and all--"

"Is that a nat twenty in the wild? I think I have to now!" you joke.

"You get that?" Idia's mouth hangs open in surprise.

"It might have different names but I think it's the same thing in my world." you shrug. He's so down to discuss games from another dimension!

A nat twenty indeed!

----

Ortho was doing his best to fill the gaps with whatever Sam's shop had to offer. Idia's grocery order was a little delayed due to the Valentine's holiday so he needed something decent to tide him over. Determined to keep his brother from an early, sodium-induced death, Ortho took it upon himself to shop. He wasn't totally heartless, though, so he'd throw in a few bags of chips to make Idia feel better.

A lot of this chocolate was out of the question! The sugar was through the roof! Then again, Idia was hopelessly addicted to sweets. He's pretty sure his brother broke some kind of record for sugar tolerance.

Equipped with Vil's suggestions and the things he researched, Ortho started hunting for healthy foods. He filled the basket with smoothies, yogurts, dark chocolate, fruit, and protein bars. There should be enough texture and flavor variation there to make Idia happy. Well...relatively.

Ortho floated patiently in line, subtly recording the conversations around him for later playback. Organic human interaction was interesting and would help him improve his algorithms and processes.

It's not like it hurt anything! All of the conversations were innocent and--

WAS SOMEONE TRYING TO MAKE A MOVE ON HIS FRIEND? HIS BESTEST, MOST PRECIOUS FRIEND?! ONLY HIS BIG BROTHER CAN DO THAT!

You may not totally get that he's a techno-organic construct (and not a boy who just really loves pretending to be a robot) but HE GETS that YOU'RE NOT COMFORTABLE AND THAT'S NOT OKAY!

"Excuse me, pardon me," Ortho weaves carefully through the people, playing a little 'wee-woo' alarm through his speaker system.

He floats beside the guy, staring at him with those big gold eyes. Pinching his thumb and pointer finger together turns up the alarm.

The guy is ignoring the alarms! How ridiculous! Is this what Idia means by natural selection and survival of the fittest?

A red light pops out of his shoulder, spinning in place.

HE'S IGNORING THAT, TOO?!

"You're being interrupted!" Ortho glares at him now, tuft of blue hair dancing angrily. "This conversation is clearly inappropriate for the setting and is henceforth terminated!"

"Terminated? Big words for a little boy! Go away, big people are talking!" the guy tries to shoo him away.

"Don't be rude to him!" you snap, "And he's right! The conversation is terminated!"

"Terminated!" Ortho echoes, pumping his fist. "Terminated!" he repeats, laughing when some of the people in line begin to join in and chant 'terminated, terminated!'

The guy leaves without buying anything and Ortho is happy to take his place. He pays for the the snacks. "And here's a sticker for you for being so sweet!" you put a sticker on the back of his hand. It's a heart wearing sunglasses.

Ortho laughs despite himself. One day he'll get Idia to explain it to you in a way you understand. He's surprised nothing like him exists in your world but he's glad to be here with you in Twisted Wonderland.

[thydungeongal]

Many D&D 5e DMs ignore the game's own suggested structure of having multiple encounters per adventuring day, and while they aren't entirely wrong to do so (the suggested number of encounters per adventuring day doesn't quite line up with the actual math of the game nor does it produce enjoyable gameplay for those who don't enjoy D&D's combat, i.e. the part that D&D is the most about so you know what are we even doing here). Instead they focus their attention on trying to run only a single, narratively satisfying combat encounter. Which often works against itself because you will find yourself hard-pressed to get a dramatic combat out of a single battle in D&D 5e when player characters will be going into battle at full resources.

Because in most cases D&D's resource management is really at its best when it's not about managing resources within a single encounter but over multiple encounters. If you can expect only one encounter per adventuring day "should the wizard cast fireball now or save it for later" really isn't a relevant question in most encounters. In most cases the answer is "cast it now because the more enemies are dead by the end of this round the fewer attacks the party will have to potentially suffer next round."

And it often ends up eliminating all tension as well. If characters can count on having all their resources available for their one combat encounter of the day then they can pretty much rest assured that they will have enough healing and damage at their disposal to eliminate the enemy. The GM can hope to alleviate this by adding enemies that can take out party members quickly, but it is a risky proposition in many ways: the dice can swing one way and eliminate a player character before the group has a chance to react at all, which isn't exactly a failure on the party's part, it's just dumb luck (now, dumb luck is sometimes a valid way to introduce tension, but in the context of an encounter that is supposed to feel dramatic a character being taken out during the first turn before there is any input on the player's part can feel anticlimactic). Characters have very limited resources available to them to actually actively mitigate damage. Most of the time if a character loses initiative they are at the mercy of the enemy, being entirely reliant on the enemy rolling low on their attack/them rolling high on their saving throw. Some characters have reactive defenses available to them, but that's the thing: only some of them.

On the other hand things swinging the other way and an enemy having a single bad round during which they fail to deal meaningful damage to the party can conversely begin a death spiral for the enemy, where characters will be able to reserve resources that would normally be spent fighting back against enemy assaults on simply focusing on damage.

Of course this hasn't always been the case in D&D: the conventional wisdom in older editions was that player characters would have to delve into dungeons on limited resources and conserve those resources throughout the adventuring day. And this basically is how 5e is supposed to be run: but for a variety of reasons it also runs against the idea of combat being dramatic. If most combats during an adventuring day are just obstacles to be overcome, it eventually does make combat feel routine. Which, you know, somewhat also undermines the idea that combat is supposed to be dramatic.

But also, on a per encounter level, there was a brief moment in a bygone age known as "fourth edition" when player characters regardless of class had meaningful decisions to make within an encounter: compared to 5th edition, daily abilities were at a premium, which makes sense, because in 5th edition the assumption is that characters will have more daily resources they must juggle throughout a long adventuring day. 4e does also assume multiple encounters between long rests, but its adventuring days are noticeably shorter. Furthermore, healing is a finite resource in 4e on both a day-by-day and an encounter level. Characters can take a second wind action once per combat to spend a healing surge to recover some hit points, after which they are reliant the party's leaders (whose standard healing abilities are limited to two uses per combat. Scary!). And while 4e combats could also get swingy, the numbers were usually set up in such a way that a single swingy round would usually not take a player character from 100 to 0 percent. Like in 5e, most characters lacked reactive defenses, but they usually still had time to act before they were dropped.

But even 4e didn't fix one issue of D&D combat: that it often lacks permanent consequence beyond just "your character is dead." This is of course not an issue for the type of play that D&D natively supports and there are exceptions to this rule in the form of some creatures that can inflict other consequences on characters, but due to the abstract nature of D&D's combat the outcomes of combat are usually "my character fell to 0 hit points and died" or "my character dropped the enemy to 0 hit points and they died."

Speaking of those alternate consequences, an encounter with a basilisk that turns a party member into stone isn't necessarily fun as a dramatic combat encounter because it simply takes out one party member from the action, meaning they don't get to enjoy the afterglow of having defeated the enemy. Or if they do it's because a party member could cast a spell that undoes the petrification which is like. Oh, the character was only dead temporarily. You know what genre of play temporary death as a minor setback works really well in? Dungeon crawling. It also ties nearly into the logistical side of the game.

Anyway, point being, there are multiple contradictory design issues inherent to the very idea of combat and how it should be handled in tabletop RPGs and not a single correct answer. But D&D does not natively support a model of a single dramatic encounter per day, because that runs against the game of resource management and attrition inherent to it. D&D's combat can often lack tension on a per-encounter basis, but that tension arises are the very latest once characters need to start conserving their resources.

Or idk.

[fraugwinska]

Since @chefskjssart's artwork that I commissioned was such a BANGER, I felt like I needed to do something to show my gratitude. So, I messaged her and gave her free choice over a little One-Shot I'd gift her. And that's how we ended up here :D Where are my little TV Sluts at? You can thank Chef - and I hope you all have fun ;>

NSFW - Explicit Sexual Content - Minors DNI - 5.7k words

"Gotta say, Val, the revenue of your movies really skyrocketed this quarter, fuck me."

Vox flipped through the quarterly reports, eyebrows raised and a grin on his face while Valentino, very pleased with himself, lounged on the chaise next to Vox's desk, smoking.

"I told you I've made a good investment." He grinned and blew out a puff of smoke. "All the horny bitches out there are eating my movies up."

"It's more than that, you're even making headway into other rings, holy shit! We've even got a foot in the Lust Ring market, which is almost impossible with that kind of competition..."

Valentino hummed approvingly.

"And the best part: I didn't have to do much." He added and let the tip of his cigarette rest against his lips, his grin widening. "My newest author is a kinky little genius."

Vox turned his attention to the papers again, his smile slowly turning into a frown as he scanned the declining sales in Voyeurscopes.

"What are you talking about? All of your authors write pretty much the same shit, what could be so special about-"

Valentino laughed and shook his head. "That one is - believe me, carino. Poor bitch has the mind of a succubus on crack but she can't get off."

Vox looked up, an eyebrow raised in skeptic questioning.

"Can't get off?"

"Can't feel anything. Can't cum for the life of her." He replied, leaning back and spreading his arms. "Numb like a fucking dead fish."

"Or maybe she just hasn't found a good dick." Vox mumbled, returning back to the reports, skimming over the numbers.

"Mh, you be the judge amorcito. Because I tried." Valentino growled, taking a drag from his cigarette. 

Now that got Vox's full attention. The TV demon stared at his partner for a few seconds of silence, then laughed maniacally, almost falling off his chair while Val rolled his eyes in annoyance.

"Fucking weird little thing, she is. She can write the craziest shit, the hornier the better. Writes like a damn porn beast, but has no clue what good sex actually feels like."

Vox heaved, wiping his screen as if in tears.

"Ohoho, Christ on a Cracker Val, maybe you've been out of the business too long… are you maybe losing that golden touch?"

Valentino sneered. "Ay, and you think you would've been able to get that bitch to cum? Be my guest, I'll gladly watch you fail."

Vox grinned at the moth, his eyes dangerously teasing. The reports were long forgotten - this was too entertaining, and Vox loved to be challenged, because he loved the feeling of superiority he felt when he succeeded. And that feeling would be so much more satisfying when he'd beat his long time partner and porn prince of pride at his own expertise.

"Wanna up the ante? Make a little wager out of it?"

Valentino scoffed, then chuckled deviously. He took another drag from his long cigarette, his cerise teeth glistening with red saliva as he began to drool in anticipation.

"You know I like to play, Voxxy. Especially if the odds are so much in my favor."

Another script done.

Your best one yet, if anyone asked you. But you knew no one asked ever, so why bother?

You stood up from your desk in your private office - being Val's favorite pen pet had it's perks afterall.

You skipped the stage of employment where you'd be cramped in one of these horrible cubicles together with the other overworked, caffeinated and tired writers, typing another outdated secretary-fuck-fest-plot while the other employees complained about their last bad lay and the shitty pay.

At least you didn't have to deal with any of that. Your room was quiet and peaceful, the door able to be locked shut and the walls soundproof. No distractions, no chit chat, no loud coworkers or malfunctioning printer noises. Just the humming sound of your computer, and the whirring of the A/C Val had granted you - a luxury that most of your colleagues bitched about behind your back.

You stretched, your tired bones popping into place and you sighed. You were done for the day. Finally.

With the deadline looming over you, you had been a bit late with the last part, and the thought of being late with your work made you sick. But Val pressed for another banger (pun intended) like your last one, 'Dante's Infern-Hoe' and you didn't want to risk the benefits you were offered so temptingly by being sloppy.

But the script for 'The Devil wears Nada' sat now, freshly printed, next to your laptop, the file saved locally and in the cloud, with about an hour to spare still. You smiled, content and relieved. An hour of paid slacking off was nice, and you checked with a glance that the electric door still was set on LOCKED before you flopped down at the two-seater by the window, grabbing the remote from the small side table and turned on the TV.

A familiar voice spoke through the speakers, and you relaxed into the pillows with a small sigh, eyes closed.

As shitty as the program in Hell was, one thing it had going for it was Vox. That smooth, hypnotizing voice of the overlord that held pride's media empire in his claws was a delight to your ears, and even the mindless, overplayed commercial jingles were pleasant enough if he was the one narrating them.

For the millionth time, it seemed, your hand wandered under the hem of your pants, fingers rubbing lazily at your cunt, as you listened to him talk, advertising the latest angelic protection device that didn't do what he promised it to do.

It was insanity at this point, doing something over and over again expecting a different outcome. Every night your fingers were cold and wet with your slick and your clit bloody and raw while you felt nothing of even your most violent and feverish touches, trying for minutes to hours to experience a sensation you wrote daily about without the satisfaction of any remarkable buildup or release.

It was no use, you knew it was a fruitless attempt, just like all the others. The most you got out of your endless tries was a slight tingle one time where you were so desperate you fucked yourself with an electric rod on its highest setting, resulting in a power outage in your apartment and a big fat fine from your landlord a few days later.

Still, you craved it. Craved to one day feel at least something. After the disappointing One-Night-cannot-Stand-the-thought-of-it with your boss, the literal porn mogul you were ready to just give up. If the face of pride’s sexdrive couldn’t get you over the edge, was there any chance at all?

Valentino had been the last in a long line of desperate attempts, paartners ranging from incubi, paid whores, porn actors to even sexbots made by Asmodeus, costing you a pretty penny just for the hassle of trying to get through the return hotline to get your money back, explaining No, you don’t know how it was possible that the cock of the ‘Fuckboy 3.0 XXL’ broke into pieces after one time usage. 

You chuckled humorlessly at the memory - It was truly a pathetic time in your eternal existence, filled with you masturbating alone in bed like a sad porn star, yearning to experience sex like you wrote about in your scripts. Maybe this was hells way to punish you for your sins, your personal plan of torture - To never experience the very thing that possessed you on the daily.

The television droned on in the background, Vox advertising his latest technological developments; new features on your phone that you really could not care less about. Despite his unusual appearance, Vox was one of your absolute go-to Stand-in's for your plot protagonists. Charming, suave, depraved when called for and a dominating, thorough lover that took what he wanted, but with so much skill that his partner would cum threefold before he'd even begin to think about finishing. Cocky and yet sensual. Aftercare included. All the things your colleagues were too dumb to include, no wonder their scripts were a bust.

Yes, it was hell and therefore tastes were more... depraved than in the living world, but that didn't mean the populus secret wishes for some sort of common sexual decency was out the window, goddamn.

Your mind wandered away from your depressive ruminations, your hand never stopping its circular pattern around your swollen clit as your thoughts started to wander to its usual place, the only way that came close to what you longed for and what was the source for all of your best-selling porn scripts. Your boundless realm of fantasy.

'Come out, come out, wherever you are...'

Vox is standing in your doorway, his silhouette prominent against the bright white neon light coming from the corridor of the empty floor. His suit, neatly fitted to every curve of his slender body, is showing just how thin his waist really is, but that does not come even remotely close to describe his broad shoulders and firm, wide chest, contrasting it deliciously. His navy blue skin reflects the harsh lighting in the hallway, his screen sharp and clear, digital eyes never leaving you as he closes the door behind him, dipping the room you're in in darkness, the only source of light his brightly illuminated screen where his digital, mismatched eyes are solely fixated on you, hiding behind the long backrest of your couch.

'Found you, babydoll.' he says with that god forsaken sultry voice of his as he reaches for your throat, long fingers wrapping themselves around your neck as your breath hitches and he pulls you up from your crouched position, his long tongue running over your collarbones, the wet trails feeling as cold on your skin as his appendage feels hot. 'Now remember what I said? Ready or not...'

He presses you into a wall, his big, hard erection rubbing teasingly through the layers of fabric on your already wet core as you whimper with want. '... here I cum.'

You moan his name, the imagined feeling so painfully surreal, and you wished once more that your working fingers would elicit some sort of real, bodily response.

A cough makes you freeze in your movements. Your fantasy shatters like a mirror shot with a bullet and your eyes fly open, expecting to see maybe a dumb segment of a rerun of 'Vox2Nite'. Instead, you see the actual, real TV demon overlord, standing live and in color just a few strides away with an expression that was a mixture of confusion, curiosity and slight annoyance.

"I'd ask if I am interrupting, but it seems you already had me on your mind, huh, doll?"

Realizing that you weren't - in fact - hallucinating, you immediately whipped your hand out from under your panties, sitting up, flustered like a child caught with their hands in the cookie jar. How did he get in? Did you forget to lock the door? No. Did he unlock it?! You must have missed his opening and closing of the door over the voice in your fantasy. The same voice that is now echoing in reality. Oh what a shameful ending for a perfectly good fantasy orgasm.

"Um... shit, sorry, Mr. Vox, sir. I was just, you know..." you scrambled, getting nervous under the actual gaze of him as he folded his arms, waiting for you to end that sentence with a pitiful smirk. Jesus Christ, those arms are slender and muscular…

"Thinking! Just thinking, making script... scenarios..."

"Uh-Huh. And how is that coming along?" He asked, seemingly unfazed by the display before him as he took a few steps towards you.

"Oh, uh, haha, I didn't really... finish..."

He stopped directly in front of you, shutting you up with a low chuckle and his hand around your wrist, the one attached to the hand that had been in between your folds just literal seconds ago, lifting them up to look at the still shimmering wet residue on your fingers with a sneer.

"Mhm. Yeah, I've heard you have some problems with that."

Now that was embarrassing as it was alarming, and you ripped your hand out of his grip. Or better, you tried to do so anyway. It was a pointless exercise, his hand had an iron-tight grasp around your wrist as he pulled you up with one swift motion, so fast you stumbled into him, face to chest, breath caught in your throat as you were made suddenly aware how huge he really was compared to you.

"W-wow, my kinda pathetic reputation precedes me it seems. That's..." just great is what you wanted to say, but all words failed you when he lifted the hand in his grasp to his face, his thick, long tongue slithering out of his mouth just to wrap itself around your digits, lapping up the sticky residue of your arousal, watching you as your pupils widen and you squirm in his grip, mortified and turned on at the same time.

"Eh. Not as pathetic as my business partner's failure to provide something he's built his reputation on, sweetheart. Unusually smart of him to get you under contract before you shout it from the rooftops." He hummed as he tasted you, sucking in the pads of your finger hungrily and without hesitation, and all you could think of, frozen stiff like a deer in headlights, was: What the fuck is happening?

"But Val never had the kind of mindset I have... I don't do failure... or better said: I always finish what I start." His low rasp vibrated in the air around him, echoing in your head, and the heat his voice had brought to your skin left your mind racing. You asked yourself panicking if you had written too many dumb porn plots or if he was really implicating what you thought he was implicating.

"So, whaddaya say, doll..." His breath tickled your cheek as he leaned in closer, pulling you flush against him, a soft grunt of content as his hard dick pressed into your soft belly, his mouth right next to your ear, one of his hands running teasingly down your sides as he licked your ear shell. "...care to see if I can end your unlucky streak?"

'Fuck, yeah.' You thought, and almost moaned out loud as you let your head fall back to make room for his waiting mouth, when suddenly you stopped in your tracks. His hands were already groping over you greedily, squeezing your ass, your thighs, your breasts as he looked down on you, surprised to see your conflicted face.

"W...Wait. What's in it... for you?"

"Mh, you're clever. That's a new one." Vox laughed, his hand running up to the side of your face to cup your cheek, his thumb rubbing small circles on the corner of your lip. "Me and Val made a little bet, you see, and well... Let's just say: I want this to work out just as much as you do, since my success depends on yours."

"Oh.." So Val was talking about you, that bastard. He had you sign an NDA when he hired you, given that you had been unwilling to make a soul contract with him, but you guessed that that had been naively one-sided. Asshole.

Vox stroked your bottom lip, parting them before you opened them slightly on your own accord, his dark blue tongue languidly tracing the edges, waiting for your decision, coaxing you to decide in his favor. And even though you were kind of pissed at Valentino for running around telling people about your... situation - you couldn't deny it was tempting, turning fantasy into reality. And what was another overlord trying to do the impossible? Worst case - he'd try and fail, just as all the others did before, like the stupid moth pimp. At least you'd have some leverage for maybe another good deal for your silence on it. And in the highly unlikely best case…

With your decision made, you flicked your own tongue against his, humming at the unfamiliar taste and the sizzling static electricity on your tongue. Vox grinned, his sharp teeth pressing onto your lips, nipping at the sensitive flesh and growling with approval when your lips parted.

"Ohoho, baby, this is gonna be fun."

Vox ran his claws through your hair, loosening your already messy bun until your hair fell free with his playful pulls as he explored your mouth, deepening the kiss with every lick, until he could push his whole tongue into your mouth, moaning and grabbing the back of your head tightly as you let him fill you without the slightest hint of protest, fighting a desperate losing battle for air.

"Fuck, don't you need to... breathe?" you whispered after he finally pulled back, a wet trail connecting his tongue to yours, grinning down on you while your lungs burned for oxygen.

"Perks of being state of the art, sweetheart." he watched your swollen, drool covered lips - parted to catch your breath - for a few seconds longer before he inquisitively tilted his head. "Did you feel any of that?"

You contemplated lying, but figured honesty would probably be the best in this situation, shaking your head and giving him your most pitiful attempt at an apologetic smile, already bracing yourself for him to give up or get mad. "My lips tingle a little."

"Mh." He huffed as he pushed you back into the two-seater, your back hitting the cushions with a soft thump, and unceremoniously pulled on your very not-sexy-at-all sweatpants and slightly-more-sexy-but-not-quite panties until they slipped over your legs.

"How about this then?" He pressed his knee in between your legs to nudge them apart. "Can you feel any of this?" He spread your already wet slit open to run a cold claw over your hole, softly dipping first one, then two and lastly three of his fingers inside to stretch you further open and push it back in, repeating the movement slowly while keeping his eye contact trained on your face.

You hummed non-commitally, closing your eyes and pressing yourself into the cushions, trying to feel for any sensation that should come with every slow drag of his digits pumping inside of you, and not finding any of it was so fucking frustrating. You felt like you were not only disappointing yourself, but him, as stupid as that sounded. But with every added finger and still a lack of response, you saw the progression of frustrations in his face that you knew all too well - eyebrows furrowed, irritated twitches of the corners of his lips that turned into a snarl with the third added digit. You frowned, sighing and bit your lip - nothing. Nothing, nothing, nothing, and fucking nothing again, just another wet hole, the clenching of your walls a habit and reflex only, no pleasure whatsoever.

"It's no fucking use..." you whined, pressing your hands to your face in frustration and fear of looking back into his eyes, "I can't feel anything at a-aaAAH...!"

Your back arched at this strange jolt running down your spine, forcing you to grind down on his hand as a strong electric current buzzed from his claw tips right through your cunt, curling in your stomach in a hot wave of wanton need and knocking the wind out of you. Your eyes flew open just in time to see the flash of victorious satisfaction on his screen before his face turned fuzzy as you began to tear up.

"There's some reaction. There we go, sweetheart." He cooed and curled his fingers in that deliciously sinful way again, making your breath catch in your throat. For the first time since you can remember, you FELT. You dropped your hands from your flushed, hot face onto the plush of the couch, fingers desperately digging into the fabric, and stared at Vox with wide eyes. He winked, nudging his head to his buried fingers, and with a shattering gasp you could see neon blue bolts of electric sparks traveling down his slender arm, crackling around the soft flesh inside of your pussy that had never felt so sensitive.

"How are y-aaaa.... aaa-AAah...." he silenced any questions you might have had or possible retort with another shock wave traveling through his hand as he dragged his fingers in and out in an agonizingly slow pace, it had your ears ringing with white noise and your eyes water with unknown, strange pleasure.

You were shaking, and though it should have frightened you a lot more than it did to be electrocuted while doing something that could be considered borderline treason to Valentino (And it still had your cunt dripping on a whim), but there was nothing left for you to think of other than the sharp shocks making every nerve inside of you buzz, your thighs already trembling in anticipation of the possibility of an unknown, but oh-so-wanted climax. Yet it was somehow still out of your reach, out of your range of senses.

"I feel like we are getting closer, babydoll." The TV demon chuckled darkly, his voice over amplified, the electrical buzz reverberating loudly in the soundless room. "How 'bout we kick it up a notch, huh?"

He pulled out his fingers in a quick, cruel movement, making your pussy clench around nothing as you already mourned the feeling. Before you had the time to voice your loss however, he had your thighs already in his hands, pushing them back to almost fold you in half and spread them apart as wide as he could get them without hurting you. With a smirk he stuck out his tongue, inhumanely long, thick on its base and pointed at the end - and let his electric energy visibly spark around it. Holy Shit.

The moment his head dipped down and his appendage swiped through your puffed, red folds, you could feel your insides buzz in sync to his delighted moan. He began eating you out feverously and obscenely, not holding anything back, just like you wrote your most popular protagonists to do - NO, this was so much better than anything you've ever written or fantasized about, his tongue twisting in patterns that felt like nothing you've ever even came close to imagine before. It was like he powered your whole nervous system, overriding every strand of nerve with his own electricity, amplifying any touch, any lick and any suction that would normally not even register a thousand-fold.

"O-Oh my g... F-fffuuuuhhh-ck.. meeee..." you moaned in confusion and amazement, your legs shaking helplessly on either side of Vox's rectangle head as he fucked his tongue into you, switching between the deep, long, thorough thrusts and fast, small, teasing flicks into the wet heat of your cunt, coating his screen in a shining mix of your natural juices and his blue neon saliva. He sucked at the protruding of your swollen bundle of nerves, your sensitive clit twitching under his attention - it was maddeningly unreal. You felt like a complete, utter sham - if this was sex, you've never written it anywhere correctly.

"I'm working on that, sweetheart."

Vox smirked against your pulsing core, humming with satisfaction at your wet, gaping slit begging for him to push back in and fill you up again, making you ache for his tongue deeper and deeper, forcing every shred of sense you had to leave your mind as you bucked into his grip in desperation, chasing another intense jolt he held just out of your reach as he laughed deviously at your hungry reaction to his teasing antics.

You didn't care how pathetic you looked, how undignified or desperate you sounded. This was nothing short of fucking fantastic, this all new, unknown sensation that you deemed impossible to ever experience and an real, tangible orgasm so close you could almost grab it. You felt a violent greed, you needed more of this, more more more, you needed to cum and you knew exactly that only Vox was able to do it - but you needed him inside of you, pushing you into oversensitivity, no matter what was required to get you over the edge. Fuck all dignity, that ship had sailed the moment your back hit the couch.

You shook your head vigorously, choking down sobs of grateful pleasure that racked your body with every curl of his tongue inside of you and a guttural moan, high pitched and broken.

"P-Please... ah, Pl..please..." you panted and Vox felt for your thighs to hold you steady. His claws sank in with such force into the soft meat of your legs he drew blood. "F... Fu..Fuck me.. please." you stammered and he smirked, a look of pure joy in his digital eyes as he stared you down.

"Oh, I will, baby." He smiled against your core, curling the tip of his tongue around your clit with just the right amount of pressure that your entire vision went blank with a broken cry and the strongest wave of static he'd managed to work you up to so far. "Don't worry about that, I'm not nearly done with you."

He fucked his long, slippery tongue back into your quivering pussy, his thumb taking the place on the sensitive bundle of nerves where his pointy tip had been and you cried out again as he found that one spot you've always read (and written) about. You had questioned it's actual existence, believing it to be one of those wishful myths girls dreamt and you by proxy wrote about - Until Vox and his fucking talented mouth and miraculous tongue brushed right up against it with expert accuracy. It made your eyes roll to the back of your skull, mouth open to cry out as your back arched like a bow string.

"Yeah, there? F-Fuuuck..." The overlord growled, watching your blissful face twist with a new kind of overwhelming pleasure. "You gonna cum for me baby? Come on, let go, good girl..."

You knew the reader-pleasing phrase by heart. You used it a hundred times and fantasized about it even more - It shouldn't have that effect on you, but yet it was that comment of his, spoken in a raspy low rumble directly into your cunt that finally pushed you over the edge, leaving you panting helplessly and cumming.

Hard. Harder than you've ever dreamed about. Every nerve ending on overdrive, every hair standing on edge - it felt like getting struck by lightning, the static electricity sizzling through your blood vessels like a thunderstorm as he was still thrusting that goddamn magic tongue into your spasming hole through the clamping of your muscles, taking you through it with small, measured licks to keep you on the edge a little longer, whines and hiccups mixed with breathless laughs leaving your raw throat as you slowly returned to reality.

This was it, what you've always longed for, you realized after your vision came back to you, staring down at the smug looking TV demon who was still settled between your legs, his glowing screen painted with the remains of your climax. You managed to give him an exhausted smile, blowing a stray strand of wild hair from your face with a quick puff before dropping your head back in the pillow, absolutely spent. Vox pressed a toothy kiss on your thigh and pushed himself back to his feet.

"You've got quite the gushy orgasm, doll, damn..." he wiped a thick blotch of your arousal from the corner of his screen, the neon blue stained fingertip disappearing in his mouth as he hummed appreciatively and licked it away. Then he looked over you, slumped lazily on the sofa, your face flushed, your hair all tangled and the exposed pieces of skin covered with a shiny layer of sweat.

"Shit, sweetheart, you look goddamn good when you're all messed up like that..." He eyed you intently and leaned down, his heavy frame caging you in underneath him, one hand trailing a line from your still heaving chest, between your breasts and up to your throat.

"T-That was.. wow. Just... wow." Clearly illiterate and 50 IQ-points dumber post-orgasm, you cleared your throat, trying to compose yourself. While you were a little disappointed that you still hadn't really fucked, he did what he promised to do. Got you off - and how. You were grateful.

Sad that it was over, maybe even sadder that the chances of a repetition were likely zero - Vox was a goddamn overlord, and who were you other than a nobody with a hard-to-please cunt?- but grateful nonetheless. And you felt the need to let him know that.

"I don't know how to than... w-what are you doing?"

You sat yourself up on the elbows with a dumbfounded expression as Vox began to undress himself, his jacket, bow tie and undershirt discarded within seconds onto the ground and he practically pounced you as he began to undo the belt of his slacks, trapping you in between his legs and under the very prominent hard-on he sported.

"What, you really thought that was it? Make you cum once, win my bet and ding-dong-ditch like a fucking amateur?" Vox laughed as he pulled his massive length out of his pants - Words were your bread and butter but they would ever fail you to describe the gloriousness that was his cock.

Almost as thick as your underarm, smooth and almost shiny, glowing with built-in LED lights along the underside of his shaft and practically weeping with precum. He knelt down on the sofa, taking your hand to run it over its full length, smearing the sticky residue along your fingers, his almost bioluminescent cum dripping thick and slowly from the angry swollen tip. "Fuck no, sweetheart. In case you forgot, let me remind you..."

He leaned down to your ear, a violent electric bold jolting from his cock through your hand right into your overwhelmed, disbelieving brain as he guided you to line him up with your still throbbing entrance.

"I always finish what I start."

Vox had never been in a better mood.

His phone - finally surviving for more than just a few days, since his win against Valentino prevented the moth pimp from smashing it, even in one of his many temper tantrums - buzzed again. A notification of another upload into the cloud. He smirked when he saw the name of the user.

The whole conversation after he fucked Val's writing savant into Limbo and back had been a fucking blast for Vox - he reveled in the morbid joy of cashing in his stake while teasing Val that he'd have to wait another eternity for the chance to make Vox star in a double length porn with him - a fantasy of the moth Vox has been always against. Not to mention that Vox had accomplished what Valentino with all his 'mighty dicks and porn mastery'-aura couldn't. Which (rightfully) sent him into his biggest hissy fit yet, so enraged that, in lieu of Vox's phone to throw against the wall, he threw his newest Robo-Assistant Kitty out the window.

Although Vox had been certain he wouldn't lose the little bet against his partner, he still felt a little relief that his ass wasn't on the next new load of crappy porn DVDs. Granted, that would've surely caused sales to skyrocket - but with his revived and improved little star author that was more than just unnecessary.

Val's fears that a good dicking with a Happy End would sort of break the little writers 'Sex-Spell' and her scripts turn into shite like the rest of Val's useless crew produced proved to be the exact opposite. Ever since Vox made her cum - on his fingers, mouth and cock for multiple times that fateful night - her scripts improved even more, resulting in stellar sales reports, a major spike in cashflow and a personal inquiry letter for a meeting from Asmodeus himself (which Vox contemplated to frame and hang over his fucking bed like a medal of honor).

And since Valentino, in his hurt pride and childish, stubborn pettiness refused to speak or fuck with him, Vox had no qualms of paying his little writer a few more visits. Every time he found impish joy in finding new ways to make her cum, and after one shag-date where he actually stayed long enough for an after-sex-cigarette and some smalltalk, he discovered that she wasn't just a kinky, but also an interesting bitch with great taste in whiskey and a crude sense of humor that was just up his alley.

"I'm curious doll." Vox said as he took another drag from the cigarette before he handed her the bud, throwing his arm around her shoulders and pulling her onto his bare chest as he lounged on the new, bigger sofa he got for her office (more space and much more versatility) "What the fuck did you do to end up in hell? You don't seem like the ax-murder type."

She chuckled mischievously. "I was a pretty popular crime author back upstairs. I hit a pretty bad writer's block, and decided to get in some field work to inspire me for more creative ways of murder. No axes, but I did have a fable for knives." She grinned, inhaling the thick smoke as he laughed and the way her tits pressed into his skin had him almost hard again. "You know what's the most ironic part?" She asked, putting the bud out in the ashtray on her side table and glanced back over her naked shoulder to him, a devious glint in her eyes. "I got the electric chair for that." That woke his cock fully up again, and he couldn't help but take her for another round.

His assistant babbled something about his schedule, but Vox didn't listen. Instead, he planned on visiting her office again, maybe he'd even stay after and order sushi for two, who knew? The media Overlord smiled smugly as he opened the database and looked over the newest script you had uploaded to the cloud. It was when he read the title that he burst into ringing laughter.

'Electrocutie - One Big Cock Shock'

[m00nkissedlover]

・｡Rings 💍

You've ordered: a bone-shaped lemon tart! enjoy!

"It's always been just him and me, together."

Divus Crewel x spouse! reader | word count: 994 words

Summary: the students don't know you're married to their alchemy professor 💍 (silly little crewel drabble! :D)

Warnings: kinda rushed, not proofread. other than that, none!

Note: not my best work, but hey- it is what it is T-T. i will definitely be writing more for crewel in the future! also, i use they/them pronouns for reader. feel free to change them to your preferred pronouns while reading

"Did you guys know that Professor Y/n is married?" Ace exclaimed, receiving reactions of utter shock and complete indifference.

"You're just now finding out?" Jamil asked as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"Wait, you knew? Since when?" Grim asked, his face stuffed with a meat filled pastry.

"Since the first day of class. I noticed the ring when they was handing out papers."

"Do you know who they're married to?" Kalim questioned, Jamil shaking his head.

"All I know is that they're married to a professor. I happened to overhear them talking with another student who asked."

"Professor Trein's too damn old to be their husband and Coach Vargas already told us he's not gonna get married anytime soon." Deuce explained. "And we've never seen Professor Crewel wearing a ring."

"Maybe he doesn't teach here?" Grim mumbled, finishing up his pastry and making a failed attempt to take Deuce's.

"Look! There they are." Ace announced.

The others turned around to see you walking through the cafeteria, greeting students. When you spotted their table, you smiled and waved at them, stepping over. "Good morning everyone! How are you all doing today?" you asked, your voice warm and inviting.

The boys all gave pretty halfhearted responses as their eyes drifted to the ring on your finger. Whoever your husband was, he was definitely loaded. That diamond was the size of their heads.

You followed their gaze, giving a quiet laugh as you reached you hand out, letting them get a better look at the ring. "Before you all ask: yes, i am married."

"Wow! That's a gorgeous ring!" kalim exclaimed, taking in the sparkly rock.

"So, uh...what's your husband like?" Ace outright asked, earning himself a kick under the table from Jamil. "Ignore him, Professor."

"No, no. I don't mind at all. He's very sweet and kindhearted. He's very passionate about his teaching and wants his students to succeed. He's the best man I've ever met, really." you sighed dreamily, thoughts of your husband filing your mind.

The group found it rather sweet, whispering among each other for another question to ask.

"Well, I must be on my way. See you all in class later!" you smiled, giving them a nod as you left the cafeteria and them dumbfounded.

You were currently in your classroom, setting things up for your next class. You taught Magical Botany and Herbalism, a class that happened to go hand in hand with Professor Crewel's Alchemy class.

As you checked in on the various plants growing in your "plant corner" of the classroom (you also used the botanical garden to grow things), you heard the sound of footsteps behind you. Turning around, a wide grin spread over your features as you saw the familiar face.

"Professor Crewel, what a pleasant surprise." you said, a tinge of excitement in your voice at seeing your husband. yes, you were married to none other than Divus Crewel, alchemy professor and dog lover alike.

"Y/n, you know you can drop the formalities when we're alone." he said, stepping over to you. his arms encircled your waist, making you laugh a little.

"Crewel, our students might see!" you exclaimed, pretending to scold him despite your arms already wrapping around his neck.

Crewel gave you one of his flashy grins, resting his forehead against yours. "So? At least then, the puppies will stop bombarding me with questions."

"What questions?" you mused, having a good idea of what they were.

"Like, if i have a crush on you." the alchemy professor said, making you burst into laughter.

"Well, we're married, so I would hope so!" you snickered, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

Just as your conversation was going well, a few whispering voices could be heard from behind the door. Voices you two knew very well.

"Stop pushing!"

"shh, they're gonna hear us!"

"Did they say they're married?"

You and crewel exchanged a knowing glance, walking over to the door and opening it. Im tumbled Grim, Ace, and Deuce, all three of them with rather guilty looks on their faces.

"Oh? Deuce, this isn't the botanical garden!" Ace said, trying to sound convincing (and failing).

"Where you puppies eavesdropping on us?" Crewel asked, his tone turning stern. You placed a hand onto Crewel's shoulder, shaking your head.

"Let's at least hear them out."

Crewel was about to protest, but nodded his head, letting them explain themselves.

"We were just curious about who Professor Y/n was married to!" Grim blurted, Ace facepalming and Deuce silently scolding the cat-like creature.

"Like he said, we never would've guessed it was Professor Crewel. He never wears a ring." Deuce explained.

You couldn't help but laugh, Crewel rolling his eyes at their little display of curiosity.

"The reason he doesn't wear his ring is because he's afraid he'll lose it or ruin it up during alchemy lessons. It also looks weird if he wears his gloves over it." you explained, the boys nodding their heads.

"You do understand that I'll have to punish you three, correct?" Crewel said, the three boys hanging their heads.

"Oh come on, love. Cut them some slack this time, hm?" you suggested, playfully nudging crewel in his side. The students were shocked to see this side of their professors, finding it a bit weird, but also rather sweet.

"Fine. But don't let me catch you again."

After the trio left, Crewel helped you set up the last of your things. You two were now having one last little intimacy session before classes began again.

"Tell you what? After classes are over, let's go have some tea in your office and just enjoy each other's company?" you hummed, reaching up to tuck a tuft of his white hair behind his ear.

"You always know how to take my stress away." he smiled, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead.

"Of course I do. I know my husband inside and out." 💍

© m00nkissedlover, 2024

[seneon]

OF ART & SWORD ──── samurai¡ touya × geisha¡ reader.

about. oh but to love a woman who is already married to art. set in edo period, rural japan! au. romance. mentions of alcohol and suggestive content ( very short & uncompleted sex scene, it's intimately beautiful ) wc of 4300+

notes. the long awaited fic that's been sitting in here for months LOL. these rural jp themes & titles are based on research. anyways, no grunge dabi content this week.

SUNDAY NIGHTS were the only night that all the well respected samurai of the shogun had all for themselves. the gruesome days of protecting, engaging in battle, and training during the day were seemingly like a preview of what hell is like.

during this one night where they are granted freedom to sprawl all around the kingdom, many of the samurai's loyal warriors are seen in brothels. they engage in nothing but sugar-coated conversations with the women there and the next thing their bodies entwine.

tonight, the elite men all decided to spend their nights watching performances led by the women from the best okiya in the entire city. tonight is the night of artistry.

it is hard to tell if the samurai were here for art or not, since they all knew that a specific tayū of eternal beauty resides in this okiya. a woman who married the concept of art and ingrained it all throughout her soul.

the highest ranking of geisha which stands on par with those beautiful oiran of pleasure, you, a tayū. a woman of art and a woman who never fails to shine a sort of hopeful light around her customers.

the calmest of turquoise eyes watched as the said tayū danced above the little stage.

your arm ever so elegantly tracing the strings in the air as your fingers dipped in the invisible waters. occasionally, you would turn around, your feet carrying you so lightly it looked as if you were dancing in heaven's clouds.

it sucked the samurai’s soul in a captivating trance as you danced to the shamisen’s tunes that your maiko played. your movements were so fluid that it reminded the samurai with pure snowy hair of the calmest waters of a lake.

he couldn't take his eyes off you, even when the performances were finished and all the geisha in the okiya surrounded themselves among the samurai men, mingling around for a little fellowship.

he swore he was the chosen one the moment you choose to offer him your attention, sitting at the empty spot beside him.

“good evening, sir. is it alright if i serve you tea?”

hell. your voice sounded like those heavenly angels who sang melodic songs. your words so smooth it simply rolled off your tongue. it is enough to make the samurai's heart race with your voice.

and gosh. has he ever seen such beautiful eyes before? those eyes that draw him close so that he can drown in an unending pool of your gaze. they were so kind that it taints his heart with the purest of colours.

he simply nods, never a verbal man. either way, he couldn't force a single word out of his throat with the way that his insides are all over the place.

you simply smiled and poured him tea, as you said you would. you only poured tea for him, never one for yourself. that made him want to push a few words out, a little distracted from his feelings.

“pour for yourself,” the samurai murmured, avoiding your gaze as you said a simple all right before pouring an empty little cup of tea for yourself.

“i’ve never seen you here before.”

“that's because i never came here before,” he replied almost immediately to your words as he took a sip of his tea. “those men have been here several times though.”

you glanced over him before focusing your gaze back on him. “yes, i know them. but i don't know you. what is your name?”

his turquoise eyes flickered to your face as you asked him for his name. it seems like common courtesy for a pretty geisha to ask for her customer's name so that she will appreciate and remember the faces of those who pay attention to the artistry of the geisha.

“it's todoroki tōya.”

tōya's name rolls down your tongue like a prayer.

ONE MONTH of knowing you and that is all it took for the elite samurai todoroki tōya to start sponsoring you. he is the only man capable of such riches and wealth and the only one whose patronage was accepted by you.

tōya's comrades were surprised. they did not see it coming— how he is such an aloof soldier yet was noticed by the most beautiful woman of the geisha world.

now, the samurai with hair as white as the winter snow sat on the tatami mat, watching as you executed solo performances for him and him alone, a way to show gratitude to your danna.

he watched as the fan in your hand flew in the air, your fingers skillfully performing tricks with such a nimble little thing. even with a tool used in your dancing, he was impressed by your skills.

“how'd you do that? the fan thing,” tōya asks as you continue to swing your arm elegantly in the air, following the nonexistent music which only plays in your ear and yours alone.

“i simply throw it in the air and hope to catch it the right way,” you replied, giving him a slower demonstration of the skill as you saw tōya tilted his head in confusion. you chuckled before your movements came to halt.

“there is no way you just hope to catch it the right way. there has to be a skill. just like samurai with their blades and kenjutsu.”

you sauntered over to the man before setting your fan aside and taking a seat opposite of him.

“but there is. when you have a skill, you hope to make the best out of it. you believe in the skill which you've perfected. that is hope. when i perform, i hope for the best. when i hope and believe in that light, then i can perform perfectly while holding onto that simple little light that lives within me.”

gosh, even your words sound like sweet honey that drowns itself into the back of his mind. the way you perceive a word as simple as hope has him listening intently, even if he isn't really into that kind of overwhelming genre.

by now, you already know he isn't a man of many words but just a few. you do almost all the talking, filling the air with your heavenly voice that tōya loves to listen to every time he murders his free time basking in your calming presence.

being with you simply makes him forget about all the samurai work that he has. in your presence, he forgets how to wield a blade, how to lead an army, how to fight for this country because all he could think of was how to hold your hands, how to lead you into his embrace, and how to fight for you.

it's pathetic to him how he forgets that he is a samurai, yet an elite one, whenever he's with you. and sometimes, he forgets what he wants to say and ends up uttering the utmost outrageous thoughts of his.

“you are my hope, y/n.”

THE MOON GLEAMED, like a massive white bone china plate, hanging high up on night heavens. its silver glows illuminated on the skin of a figure slowly and elegantly moving her arms in the air, forming a magical aura all around her. your hair danced along the cold winds accompanied by the soft waves of the lake.

you slowly moved, following the tunes that the earthly nature offered up to you as a gift for entertaining them with your dancing. to dance freely and to have no other soul tear your confidence away is such longing peace that you have been looking for this whole time.

when have you ever danced like this all alone without having to worry about anything at all? without the eyes of men burning their gazes into your soul.

you felt so free, telling your okasan that you wanted to take a nightly walk through town but here you are, all alone by a lake where the moon favours your absolute beauty.

there were extremely faint sways of the roots that danced in joy at the performance you are giving them, serving mother nature with your grace.

now it is tōya's turn to lay his eyes on your dancing figure. you slowly spun around, arms moving in the most graceful and beautiful manner he has ever seen. he doesn't know what to think or feel at that moment where he hides behind a tree to watch you twirl like a soft and light leaf which is being carried by the wind.

the samurai watched in absolute awe, unknowingly admiring such beauty that unfolds right before him from a distance.

turquoise eyes usually resting and pupils never forming into a lovely circle of whatsoever, they widened just a little bit, giving the samurai some emotions that perfectly portrayed his features. his lips parted a little, letting the cold mountain air kiss his lips dry.

if there was a way to keep his lips moist, it would be to have his lips on yours.

wait—

what was the samurai's most elite samurai, todoroki tōya, thinking..? to have his lips on yours? to keep his lips moist? to kiss you...?

tōya blushed. his cheeks grew a field of red roses, freshly bloomed and ready to decorate the rest of his face deep red. he covered his cheeks so quickly that the sound of a slap echoed through the night.

shit.

the sound has caught your attention. you have ceased dancing, now looking at the direction the odd sound came from. tōya completely hid himself behind the tree, hands still covering his mouth. a smile crept up your cheeks when you saw the beautiful white hair that immediately strikes out from the greeneries.

there was an incredible silence for a long moment, before a shuffle was heard.

"let's dance," you whispered into his ears, fingers gently wrapping themselves onto the hands of the flustered samurai as you pulled him along with you to lead him around the lake where you danced for nature.

tōya simply let you do as you wished, not uttering a word of disagreement to your offer or even shaking his hands free from your grasp. you have him cornered and wrapped under your pretty fingers. you made todoroki tōya all flustered and shy.

what could be a greater achievement than that?

when you took tōya's calloused hands and went for a run under the moonlight, he couldn't help but feel secure with a strong sense of comfort. love and affection began to brew inside of him from the moment your smile influenced him to curve the corners of his lips upwards too.

EIGHT DAYS AND STILL COUNTING, yet you've never felt much more empty and lonely with the lack of tōya's presence.

he has gone away to fight with the rest of the king's army of samurai, soldiers, and warriors. all courageous men who have pledged their utmost loyalty to the king and the kingdom.

eight days is excruciating for you, even if you tell yourself otherwise. tōya has been visiting you a lot more often than ever, and suddenly he gets drafted to lead an army after his long hiatus.

and pray tell, there was never a night where you wouldn't gaze out at the moon from your room just to wonder if he's also gazing at the same moon you set your sights upon.

you wish that the moon would convey a message to him through your eyes and thoughts that the moon hears. anything would be fine. would be better if you received some sort of message through the stars about the young samurai.

another eight lonely days and nights of engaging and socialising with the townspeople passed in long dreadful hours. in total, it has been sixteen days. mere two weeks and two days where you last heard the voice of the well respected samurai and ever since you saw his ocean eyes.

and here you were, eyes slightly widened at the sight of the said samurai you missed so much. tōya's eyes gazed into yours as you felt your breath being brought to an end at that moment.

like a sculpture, a smile slowly carved upwards of his cheeks, your own heart fluttering at the sight of your beloved danna. your widened eyes melted like ice-cream, softening at his little smile before you walked to him at the entrance of your okiya.

“welcome back, tōya-san.”

“hello to my favourite lady, y/n-san,” tōya did a little bow before chuckling to himself. he then handed out a small bouquet of peonies that was hiding behind him, awaiting to be presented to a lady.

“i never forgot about you,” said the samurai as he looked at the pretty pink peonies that made him smile. “in fact, i’ve always been thinking about you. on the battlefield, when i rested, even the moments where i cleaned my blade free from the stains of the dead.”

tōya's description has your face twisting into an indescribable facial expression, the silence you emit so deafening it makes his lips pursed in awkwardness at your odd reaction.

“sorry, i didn't mean to uh, say the last part.”

“no no, it's fine. surely you don't think of me when you see blood, do you?” you raised a brow.

his fingers moved up to scratch his cheeks. “of course not. what i meant to say is, i can't keep you out of my mind.”

and it makes you chuckle before you take the bouquet into your hands to sniff the peonies because you couldn't get him out of your mind too.

“i’m glad you're safe and sound. unharmed and untouched, tōya-san.”

you really thought he wasn't coming back.

THE CONSUMPTION OF ALCOHOL makes every other night spent differently with tōya. the finest sake ran down your throat like how it was when tōya poured you a small cup. the flavour of alcohol is so fruity and floral it messes with your mind almost immediately after consuming a few cups.

as tayū, your alcohol tolerance is so high that you could drink as many jugs as you wish. it definitely surpasses the level that your patron has.

for some odd reason, tonight the universe declares your alcohol tolerance to sink into merely nothing more than a low, innocent, maiko who awaits her turn for alcohol consumption.

neither of you knew what time it is. it's somewhere around 21:38. you think. the candles looked way too funny to read. by the time the candle runs out, your time with your danna should be over. but it seems that your candle still has a long way to go.

your mind wandered off somewhere to the dreamland where only the best possible outcomes happen in there and never in reality. all while tōya takes unending sips of the liquid that has already drugged his mind with ecstasy.

he fixed his vision onto you where you sat so elegantly and so poised, the cup in your hand as your hands rested on your lap. your eyes are half-lidded and lazy.

noticing your flushed cheeks— your pretty lips that were covered in a light layer of squeezed rose petals from the west. the sake left a trail of dripped liquid at the corner of your mouth and he so itches to clean it up for you.

so when his proximity with yours closes and he nears you, his nose so close to your face when he exhales you could feel it fanning your cheeks.

you glanced at him just a little bit, eyes locking onto his own and seeking for anything in them just to be pulled into an ocean that you start to drown in.

the tension is thick— one could probably cut it with a katana and it will not break. perhaps a lance could pierce through the broadness of the air. either way, the tension between you and the samurai is so heavy that it makes you forget how to think for a moment when tōya's lips gently touch your own.

he does it so slowly and carefully, pulling away to look at your pretty features, as if he's drinking every one of them sip by sip. then his fingers moved to graze your cheeks. slowly and carefully, he holds your face and cups it, not wanting to break you as if you are just like a fragile porcelain doll.

“you're so beautiful...” tōya whispers and your heart flutters. each day you hear the same thing over and over again by every soul you set your sights on. but when tōya says it, it becomes new and unspoken words to you.

truly, it makes your stomach flutter with how many butterflies that trashed around at his praise.

“c-can i kiss you again..?” asked the samurai and you nodded like a fool, pressing your lips onto his before he could.

you shouldn't be kissing your patron, your danna. hell, you shouldn't be kissing any customers at all. but you're here, drowning in the ecstasy of his lips and the way his hands feel on you.

the taste of alcohol on tōya's lips is so divine that it heats you up along with the kiss that grew more intense as the candlelight softly burned in the far background.

committing a crime against the rules and laws of the artistic world, you paid no mind to it. no rules or regulations exist to you in this moment where you back softly hits the wooden ground and tōya crawls above you to trail his lips down down your jawline and to your neck.

alcohol is forgotten, rules ceased to exist, and kisses marked your neck where kimono collars could cover them the next day.

tōya pays his mind in remembrance that you are still a geisha, still the daughter of art and servant of beauty. that much he wants to keep, although he isn't sure how much longer he could keep himself off you.

while he kisses your neck and marks them with bites that reeks of pure love, his fingers move to loosen the obi that holds your kimono in place.

once they've come undone, you could feel his hands peeled your garment off your shoulders as his kisses on your neck came to a halt.

your breathing is all hitched and messed up, letting the samurai undress you bare underneath him while his drunken turquoise eyes gazed at your body.

no words were uttered, just his lips that tells you how much he appreciates you whole. they drive down to your neck and shoulder, before going lower to your chest, stomach, and he pulls up to look at you before it could go any lower.

“why'd you stop…?” you whispered, your eyes looked up at him and your lips slightly curled in a pout, never wanting his sweet kisses to stop any sooner.

“as much as i want to do this, you could lose your career,” he answers and rests his hands on your cheek. “i don't want that to happen.”

“but tōya-san, i want you. i don't care about being a geisha if it means i could be with you. besides, you could just buy me.”

his cheeks grew a field of roses at your words as he remained silent for a moment. “then i’ll proceed with the transaction later. you're all right with that?”

you nodded. “more than all right,” your affirmative whisper has tōya pressing his lips against the corner of your mouth, giving it a few chaste kisses while his fingers hooked at the band of your undergarment before slowly pulling it down, his own breath growing shaky.

just a few more moments later and his tongue is buried deep inside you after the work of his coated fingers of your slick. his hands kept your thighs opened while you gripped on his precious white hair as he pleasures you with his tongue.

the candle still looks like it has hours to go, which is perfect and foreseen of this moment where you revel in ecstasy.

and when he pushes in and out of you while letting out praises and affirmations through his lips, you feel nothing but the deepening love for elite samurai tōya todoroki.

you don't want to continue being a geisha tayū anymore.

OKASAN SITS YOU DOWN. she's brushing your hair like any mother would. so sweetly and filled with so much affection in the brushing, her hands felt like mother's love to you.

she starts off the conversation with a simple update on the okiya and how business is going. it's progressing well, she tells you, and thanks you because of the successful business. then she mentions about your maiko and her coming of age.

your precious maiko which you've seen grown up into a beautiful young woman. she's now read to take the next step from apprenticeship to the real thing, to be formed into a geisha. and if heaven allows, your maiko would take your place as tayū. hereditary, it seems.

“you’ve given your innocence to the samurai?” okasan asked softly as you visibly tensed, causing the older woman to rest her hand on your shoulder. “do not fear, i am not angry.”

you nodded in response as you could hear the woman practically smiling through her gentle voice, hands lifting your shoulders to resume the brushing of hair.

“was he any good? i don't want my girls to give their purity to men who isn't of art.”

a firm blush painted your cheeks a bloody hue before you fidgeted with the hem of your kimono sleeves.

“he's… tōya-san’s really gentle. considerate too. he kept asking permission and fearing my career more than i did.”

the woman hummed in response. “that's really great. and what do you feel about it?”

“what do i feel about it ..? like, him being gentle and considerate?”

“yes. had he made it an honourable and unforgettable experience for you? did his kindness touched your heart?”

you thought for a moment. “to answer all your questions at once, yes. to be honest… i don't want to entertain anyone else other than him.”

“negative, y/n, negative. you do not just entertain people, especially the samurai. you share and show people your art. and you are art.”

okasan takes a ribbon to tie a low ponytail to your hair after brushing. once she tightens the knot, she takes a seat opposite of you and looks into your eyes.

“you mean a lot to the samurai. there's a look of love in his eyes whenever you are around. the same goes the other way with you. but remember, y/n. you are a tayū, highest of the geishas. you are tied to art, not to a man. and to be tied to a man, you must cut ties with art.”

so the next time tōya came to visit the okiya, you have already cut the ribbon that ties you and art together. however, when the samurai came, he's brought many things to the okiya with him. all gifts, for the women of the okiya, your okasan, your maiko. and of course, to you, the woman he kneeled on one knee to propose to.

THREE YEARS LATER and the geishas of the okiya where you once worked at are all gathered in the living room of the todoroki mansion.

your maiko— now a beautiful young tayū, carried your two-year old child around, swaying back and forth while singing the tunes she'd used to play on her shamisen for your performances.

okasan and the other geisha speaks to rei and fuyumi, the mother and elder sister of your beloved samurai, as you're in the kitchen with tōya, preparing food for the big company.

“tōya, no, put the onions in! not shallots!” your mouth filled with the unagi you just made, tasting it before your exclaims reaches your husbands ears.

“sorry! i can't tell the difference,” your husband grumbled in annoyance and held up an onion and shallot for you. “which is which, love?”

“onion’s that, shallot’s the other one,” you pointed as you told him, swallowing the unagi before beaming in satisfaction. “perfection.”

the samurai lets out a little scoff at you before turning back to the cutting board and knife, beginning the slicing of onion. “how can you tell the difference anyways?”

“my dear, i've been cooking all my life. it's easy once you get used to it,” you went to him and peeked over his shoulders, smiling at how skillfully he cuts the onions.

“is this you when you went to war three years ago and thought about me in the middle of the battlefield?”

tōya flushes red at that memory and cut the onions even faster, earning a “ah— slow down!” from you, before a chuckle emitted.

“not like i didn't think of you all the time back then,” he murmurs and slides all the onions into a bowl, handing them to you once he's done. “y/n, you've always plagued my mind like an artwork i could never forget.”

“i’m just very artistic, aren't i?” you pressed a soft and chaste kiss on his cheeks, a few cuts visible from his recent mission with the shogun.

“yeah yeah, so very artistic until i fell in love with a merely unforgettable art,” he leans down to kiss your lips instead.

“eww! get a room, nee-san!” your apprentice calls out before your child attempts to follow her in her coos.

“just showing love to my favourite lady,” tōya pulls away and pecks a kiss onto your forehead. “let’s continue cooking, yeah? i love you, my favourite lady of art.”

TAGGING ★ @seumyo @solvisun @syverse @lezviie @sanariafr @bbluefllame @onlyyemanii

© SENEON 2025 ♱ do not repost, alter, or translate.

[beloveddawn-blog]

Call Out Doom! Aika Has a Sleepover!

Fandom: Pretty Pretty Please I Don't Want to be a Magical Girl

Rating: PG for swearing

Summary: Akia and Zira have a sleepover. Evil has other ideas.

Word Count: 2500

Notes: This is for @kianamaiart's amazing new project! The idea came from @shroudtailor in an ask. Sorry for stealing it, but I just fell in love with the idea. Also this might be wildly OOC considering the pilot isn't out yet, but I hope you'll enjoy it anyway!

“You could tell me how accurate it is! Wouldn’t that be fun?”

No, that would be the last thing I’d find ‘fun’ Aika thought, but when faced with Zira’s excitement all that she could actually say was, “Sure. Does Thursday work for you? We’ve got a Pro-D day on Friday so we’ll have some extra time.”

“That would be awesome!” Zira cried, vibrating with excitement. “I just gotta check with my Mom, okay? I’ll get back to you by the end of the day! She doesn’t answer my texts at work.”

Aika did her best to hide her wince at that. It was going to be a loooooooong weekend.

*

19:00

Zira’s house

“Thanks so much for coming, Aika! I hope you don’t mind that we’re watching it in the basement. It’s all set up for Dad to have his football buddies over, so at least it’s comfortable. It’s a bit away from the bathroom and kitchen, but we’ll have privacy. If we were in the living room Mom and Dad would be… well… they phrase it as it’s my house and I can go where I want and I guess they aren’t wrong but also, like, I don’t wanna hang out with them today? They’re my parents, they’re embarrassing, and they don’t even like Moon Sailor so I don’t know why they’d wanna watch anyway…” 

“Sound like my kinda people.” Aika muttered under her breath as she followed Zira down the stairs.

“What was that?” Zira asked, turning almost completely around on the stairs in a way that made Aika reflexively reach for them, her training shining through like it always did.

“I said it’s their loss.” She fibbed, basking in the way Zira’s face lit up at that.

“It is.” They agreed. “But that’s okay. I can share it with you now!”

Aika melted at that, her trepidations about the plan leaving her as her resolve hardened. It was just an anime. She reminded herself. If Zira likes it this much, how bad can it really be?

*

19:23

Zira’s House

“Don’t touch that cat!” Aika yelled at the screen, stuffing popcorn in her mouth. “That cat is bad news! Walk on by, girlie!”

“That would make for a very short show.” Zira replied wryly, sitting primly on the edge of the couch to avoid Aika’s animated limbs.

“It would make for a very happy show.” Aika insisted, inspecting her next handful of popcorn critically. Zira had no idea what she was looking for, but it appeared she found it as she stuffed that one in her mouth as well.

“Then it would just be a show about her failing her math test. Who’d watch that?”

“Excuse you, Azumanga Daioh is amazing.”

*

20:52

Zira’s House

“Dooooooooooon’t. Don’t do that. Just don’t.” Aika was hiding behind her hands like she was expecting a jumpscare. Zira shifted towards her in concern. The mist and the computers were a little creepy, but this still wasn’t really a scary episode. For someone who fought for real at times, Aika was being a bit of a baby about this.

“Don’t just declare her your friend, you only just met her.” She continued, her voice so soft Zira had to strain to hear it. The main girl embraced her new teammate, and Aika hid behind her hands with a squeak.

You’d have thought it was Jason with his chainsaw, the way she was acting.

*

22:22

Zira’s House

“Have you ever been on a cruise ship?” Zira asked, curious about the way Aika was scoffing.

“No. But do you hear those two? Ridiculous! She should have taken her night off and let her so-called friends deal with this nonsense. A long bubble bath would be way better than fighting a sea monster, and they said they didn’t want her there!”

*

22:45

Zira’s House

“Wait, they actually have character deaths in this show? I thought it was for kids!”

“... He’s a bad guy.”

“Still.”

*

00:39

Zira’s House

“She’s so stupid. So stupid. Why is everyone so stupid?”

“She’s in love.” Zira replied softly, taking some offence at Aika’s sarcasm for the first time.

“She’s still better than that. She can’t be making mistakes like this. Not this late in the game. Not with this much riding on them… And not when it’s so obviously a trap. Be honest, Zira, don’t you think you’d hesitate on the One True Love thing if it turned out they were flirting with every girl in town? Don’t you think she deserves better than a love like that?”

Zira paused, then nodded. It caused Aika to tug slightly on their hair from where she was styling it into two buns (“So we’ll match!). Aika let go then, and her voice dropped even softer. “She deserves her own future. Not just what everyone says fate has in store for her.

Zira didn’t know how to answer that, so she just laid her head on Aika’s knee in comfort.

*

03;17

Zira’s House

“Zira… I’m sorry to say this but I need to go to sleep.” Aika had curled up against the arm of the sofa almost two episodes ago, and now she was starting to do that jerk-startle thing that made it clear sleep was imminent.

Zira pouted. They couldn’t help it! This had been… This had been nice, even if Aika did take everything the characters did a bit personally. Halfway through the second villain arc she’d actually developed some sort of rubric and was giving all of the main characters scores like they were figure skaters and Zira had laughed so hard at some of her commentary that their sides still hurt.

They just… Didn’t want this to end.

Aika jerked awake again and Zira nodded, acknowledging that her friend-they were friends-was at the end of her rope.

“Alright. Pop up for a moment. The couch pulls out.”

Aika groaned dramatically and flopped herself over the arm of the sofa, landing in an undignified heap on the floor. Zira couldn’t help smirking at that, especially since it was so obviously on purpose. “‘S all yours.” She slurred with a slight wave. “Have at.”

Zira laughed again, then quickly set up the bed. As fast as it had been, Aika had still almost passed out on the floor. Zira had needed to help her up and tuck her in.

“Not much of a teenager sleepover.” She teased, though truth be told all of their information on sleepovers was theoretical. “I thought we’d aim for sunrise.”

Aika snorted. “Past m’bedtime. By… lotttttttttt… Hoshi g’n’a fight ‘bout it. “Mind me a… smother…” The last word trailed off in a soft exhale as she passed fully out, a surprisingly loud snore her next noise.

Zira tamped down on the wild urge to coo about it and instead got herself into the other side of the bed. They’d switched to pjs shortly after midnight with this in mind. And, as much fun as it was to tease Aika, she was also fading fast.

Between one breath and the next, darkness came.

*

06:23

Zira’s House

“Hmmm? Whazzat?” Zira muttered, a strange noise pulling them from sleep.

“Don’t worry about it.” A soft, familiar voice replied and Zira smiled. “It’s just the star shard.”

Zira hummed and fell back asleep.

*

10:03

Zira’s House

Zira was awoken suddenly by a loud thump. She shot up in alarm, only to blink dazedly at Aika. Aika, who was wearing her work uniform. Aika, who was staring at the floor in confusion as she tried to figure out why she was lying on it.

Zira blinked and went with the obvious question. “Are you alright?”

Aika turned her gaze up, then grinned when she saw Zira. “Oh good. Right basement this time.”

Zira turned that over in her mind for a moment before disregarding it. That wasn’t a question they needed answered right now.

“Do you need a hand?”

Aika waved her own around. “Got TWO!” She proudly announced, followed by a pitiful, “Owwwwwwie,” as she brained herself with her own staff.

“Have you been…” Zira hesitated, not quite knowing how to phrase this. “Out?”

“Growth ray got tested on a Chiuaua.” She confirmed, flopping down onto the floor. “Didn’t want to hurt the dude, ‘s not his fault, but the downtown was a mess. During rush hour too!”

Zira nodded, not quite sure how else to acknowledge that. “So… you definitely need a nap. Did you want breakfast first? Mom got this whole Dutch… thing for us to have. There’s bread and like four types of cheese and these weird chocolate sprinkles. Her uni roommate used to feed it to her on the weekend.”

Aika shook her head petulantly. “Nooooooooo. We had a… a plan. To watch the thing. Your thing. With the magic girls. I’m fine. I’ve had like… four redbulls. They’ll kick in in a moment.”

“Aika… You’re in no shape to watch Moon Sailor right now. You won’t even be able to pay attention.” They got out of bed and stretched. “Besides, I’m hungry. I’m gonna go grab us breakfast, kay? Just wait here.”

Aika gave her a thumbs up and a grin that held just an edge of mania to it as Zira passed… and was expectedly asleep on the floor upon return. Zira shook her head and hoisted her friend back onto the bed. Aika’s transformation had faded as soon as her conscience did, and Zira made sure to place the star shard carefully on the side table where Aika could see it as soon as she woke up.

It was precious, after all. It was what allowed Aika to transform.

*

15:37

Corner Store Near Zira’s House

“I’ve told you like a dozen times that you don’t need to apologize.” Zira insisted, snagging some gummy worms off the display. “Now pick a candy so we can go look at whatever dubious cheeses they have paired with the pepperoni over there.”

“For now.” Aika replied glumly. She perked up afterwards, but Zira could tell it was just a mask. Those words turned themselves over and over in her mind, but she put that away as well.

For now she would honour Aika’s unspoken plea and match her energy. They still had a whole weekend together. There was no sense in ruining it now.

*

16:53

Zira’s House

“Don’t eat too many of those pep ‘n’ cheds.” Zira warned. “Dad’s doing a BBQ tonight. You’re gonna want room for burgers.”

Aika stared critically at the snack in her hand, completely ignoring the show in the background. “I’m not sure if I’m tasting the cheese or just the spices from the pepperoni. I’ll have to give Monterey Jack another try some other time, I think.”

“Sounds like a plan.” They replied, tuning back in to the show just in time to watch two of the heroes make utter fools of themselves in front of a guy who already had a girlfriend. She winced. Aika probably had the better idea.

*

21:33

Zira’s House

“Thanks for being such a good sport about that.” Zira commented softly, eyes boring holes into the second fake male lead in as many days. “They… ah… have been worried. About the no friends thing. So they’re… A bit overdoing it. Thanks for not making it weird.”

Aika laughed, followed by one of the groans she’d been periodically letting out since her fourth burger. It had not stopped her from having a fifth. “Dude, don’t even worry about it. Your Mom brought seven types of cheese home with her. Seven. Then made a cheese platter while your Dad was cooking! I’m just glad I didn’t make it weird myself by asking to be adopted on the spot!”

Zira laughed at that, ignoring how weird an adoption would make… things. “I’m pretty sure you’d want to go home eventually. Their overwhelming parentness really starts to grate after a few days.”

Aika hummed, sounding unconvinced. “Why do people keep falling for the fake dude? Can’t any of these airheads tell it isn’t him?”

Zira let herself be distracted, as ready as Aika to drop the subject.

*

21:43

Zira’s House

“He fell for the fake too?? Never mind, those dumbasses deserve each other!”

*

23:58

Zira’s House

“They enrolled in Princess school?!? How do they keep getting dumber every episode? That’s it, they all fail this episode. All of them. And what sort of Finishing School teaches frisbee anyway??”

*

02:07

Zira’s House

“SHIT! Shit, don’t panic!” Aika sprang from the couch in a manner that completely belied the way she had been dozing mere seconds previous. Her star shard was pulsing and vibrating in a way she knew very well, but had been hoping wouldn’t happen for at least a few days (forever).

“Again?” Zira asked, and Aika flinched at the implied criticism in the question.

“Sorry.” She replied, staring down at her most hated possession and wishing it to the depths of the ocean. “I’m really sorry. I know we’re on the finale now and the timing is terrible…”

“Fuck the timing.” Zira replied with fervor. “Aika, you’ve had like nine hours of sleep across the last three days. You can’t go out now!”

Aika gave her a grin, but there was too much darkness in it to lighten anything. “That’s just how it is, Zira. I don’t get movie nights, I don’t get family meals, heck I don’t even get birthdays off. I’ve snuck out of both of the last Christmases. Even most on-call jobs you can schedule some important time off, but not here.  I have to answer, so I’m never going to get to have anything that’s mine again. That’s what being a Magical Girl means. We just saw two of them die, and it’s supposed to be sad but I was jealous. They don’t have to answer the call anymore.”

That was entirely too heavy for Zira to manage at this time of night, so instead she just said the first thing that came to mind. “There’s four more seasons. They come back.”

“OF COURSE THEY FUCKING DO!!!”

*

03:15

Zira’s House

Aika was fairly certain this was the right basement and she wasn’t going to have any more incredibly awkward encounters. She was proven right when she was Zira, still waiting up for her, and she smiled.

“Sorry ‘bout… that.” She said, covering a giant yawn that appeared in the middle. “I was as quick as I could be. Let’s finish off this finale.”

Zira eyed her critically, then shook her head. Aika felt her heart drop to her feet. One more who can’t take it…” She thought, but was surprised when Zira just came over to wrap her in a blanket and hand her a cup of milk. She blinked at it, caught totally off guard.

“The internet said the fight was over.” Zira admitted, fidgeting with the edge of the blanket. “So I got you some milk. We’ll watch the finale tomorrow. For now, I think we could both use some sleep.”

Zira led her towards the bed, and Aika followed in a complete daze. She wasn’t sure yet if this was the first step to acceptance or leaving… but for now she’d take it. She’d take it.

For some reason her teammates had never been as lonely as she was.

She felt asleep with the warmth of a friend beside her, and her last thought was maybe I don’t have to be any more.

She’d forget it before she woke.

[zeropro]

So I’ve seen you draw and tag a couple of different ships, just wondering which are your favorite???

Love your art btw :D

Thank you!

I don’t have a specific ship i'm particularly loyal to, so I guess I’ll rate them and also provide my own headcanons:

(disclaimer i dont know ship names so imma just try my best)

Trine-shipping: yes, put the three of them together, I don’t care. familial, sexual, romantic, platonic, its all good. I go crazy seeing them stand next to each other in the cartoon what do you want from me.

thunderwarp: I see this one a lot and I quite like it. these two being mates with starscream doing his own thing kinda makes sense considering starscream has a bunch of other ships. also makes it fun when something happens to one of them and starscream is left in the awkward position of having to deal with that.

thunderstar: been thinking about this one more lately. they’re like foils to each other. thundercracker’s a good boy to starscream’s bad boy, and he does such a concern about all the morally dubious stuff starscream gets up to. but at the same time, he admires starscream’s ambition and rizz and starscream the kinda bot that would pull you so high if you followed him. I think out of anyone, starscream is the closest to actually trusting thundercracker. 

starwarp: i had this thought one time of what if skywarp is like the horniest asexual and starscream is the most traumatized aromantic, and how would that even work XD nothing solid in the works just an idea that I had. ive seen these two less often outside of trine shipping but it can be pretty hot. I like when they are being protective of each other. I always see skywarp as more emotionally open than his trinemates and starscream can use some of that open and honest emotional love and care. someone to forcfully make him accept being loved. someone who will actually push back when he’s being stupid. and with skywarp being loyal to megatron, so much angst potential for both of them.

starbee: im a sucker for the whole ghost bee starscream dynamic. I already made a post about these two, and after all this time I still really enjoy this ship. I think characters that don’t actually like each other at first but grow into a mutual respect is so tasty. I think some people don’t like the ship because they headcanon bee as too young? well, starscream is actually younger in my fic lmao, but also they’re like 6 million years old and are born with full adult processing capabilities, I don’t think age matters here :P its less about intimacy for me anyway. I like them together because of how much it takes to get there. 

starwavewave: okay this one is 100% fueled by tfone but guyssss guysss theyre married and megatron is their son and im just aaaagh dont seperate them! such a kookie dynamic, the cool headed soundwave, the emotionally volatile shockwave, the arrogant yet cowardly starscream, all being fail dads to their little scamp leader. hahaha. high command polycule 

megastar: gasp, rated above skystar. yes, I just find this dynamic more interesting. I like an abusive ship sometimes for the angst but I also enjoy seeing megatron when he isnt abusive? kinda catharsis maybe. I read a fic once where the war is over and starscream invites megatron to one of optimus’ high profile parties and is appalled at megatron showing up in robot equivalent of underdressed, meanwhile megatron the working class miner is like “I washed, what else was I supposed to do” XD and I just love that haha. theres just so many ways to take it. I wont be doing any megastar in my au, I just tag anything that has megatron and starscream interacting with megastar cuz thats the dynamic to me

skystar/jetstar: iddkkkkk i know this is the most popular ship but it’s just!! idk! its not as interesting to me haha. I love this as a past ship, they were roommates in college, starscream opened himself to someone, chose to become close and then was hurt by it. just another wound on starscream’s spark before he ever even meets megatron. I don’t think theyd get back together after the ice. idk how well I can write this so I’ll just explain how it happens in my au here: skyfire died and starscream created this version of skyfire in his mind that was perfect, he memorialised him because he was dead! you just cant live up to how someone remembers you. I think that was part of the reason why starscream reacts so badly when skyfire “betrayed” him. unlike thundercracker, skyfire knows how to set healthy boundaries. not to mention he’d been on ice for four million years, lost his entire life, everyone he knows, and his entire civilisation, planet, and culture to a war he had no part in. bot’s gonna be upset. pissed off even. skyfire shouldnt have to be some soft sparked punching bag for starscream, he’s kind and a pacifist but he’s also going to get upset and have feelings. I think starscream’s betrayal would hit pretty hard, he’d gonna be upset about how much starscream’s changed, how much damage starscream helped cause during the war, and also starscream shooting him in the back for wanting to protect the native wildlife! when they properly talk to each other again it’s going to be heated on both sides, and I think after some hard work from both sides they could end up in a place where they are willing to be friends again, but I don’t think they’d conjunx. skystar isnt end game to me, but it is canon and an important part of the story

starop: I think ive read one fic where I really liked this ship. it’s just such a random pairing. my initial reaction is just noooo optimus prime?? but that guy’s everyone’s dad! Ive been told a big part of it is they’re both megatron’s ex’s and that’s pretty funny. not for me sadly haha (opxmegatronoldmanyaoiotpfrfr)

starjack…wheelstar? whatever the starscream and wheeljack one is. I’m not into this one. I see where people are coming from with it, but wheeljack isnt an interesting character to me. they can be science bros tho

starscream and windblade: ive seen this like once or twice. not for me. windblade is like, starscream’s daughter or something idk XD 

soundstar: uuuh i dont see it. sorry! i legit have no thoughts on soundstar. theyre coworkers XD. ive seen fics where the seekers are really young and soundwave moms them, and that’s really cute. okay, I like soundwave as a caretaker if the seekers are young, but yeah I don’t think I understand this one. 

shockstar: nooooooo. tho ironically theres more canon content there to fuel this one than soundstar (is this emotion?) but still no XD I don’t even hate shockwave! let him be sunstorm’s dad, that’s cute. but no, shockewave too creepy. no ship. they are also coworkers

what other ship is there even? oh yeah

starprowl: this is apparently a really popular ship?! I guess in a way prowl is sort of like the autobot’s starscream, undermining his leader, arrogant, willing to do the dubious play. they’re both ruthless. I like this one better than starjacked, but its still an odd pairing to me.

oh! knockout and starscream, i can kinda see it? like, as a rebound after breakdown? I like knock out and breakdown, so I’d only see these two as like friends or if something happened to breakdown. they’re a LOT of fun when they interact tho heh heh, perfectly clashing personalities

on the topic of tfp, I guess starscream and arcee is a ship? I can see this similar to my enjoyment of starbee, they’d have to work reeaally hard for this one to work but they have had potentially positive interactions in the show (before starscream screws it up) so its possible in a better world where starscream doesnt suck they could become friends. him killing cliffjumper is gonna be a huge hurdle tho! 

dont talk to me about airachnid

do people ship starscream and ratchet? I don’t ship it, but I do really like interactions between them. starscream is so terrible but he also gets hurt a lot. ratchet is grumpy and prejudice but he’s the best doctor and he’ll fix him up! I like when something terrible happens to starscream and ratchet cant help but feel bad for the guy. that’s the good stuff.

lastly i have been asked a few times on trinebee. im assuming this is bumblebee and the trine. i hadnt thought about it but it makes sense! if youre a starbee shipper, but you also support trine propaganda, then it only makes sense to bring bee into the trine. also bee and thundercracker are friends! the only ones who havent really had any interaction is bee and warp, and honestly idk if I see those two getting along but bumblebee is everybody’s friend so XD I’m sure it’ll work out!

and i think those are all the thoughts i have on the ships! 

no hate on anyone who ships any of these!!! you all do what you do, these are just my opinions, and honestly I’m just not a huge shipper to begin with haha. I am…unsure if there will be any shipping content in my au, I write my scenarios very much “canon but to the left” and so it comes out very sex-less because romance and intimacy is just not the type of content I’m in the business of writing. but, idk, i think about it sometimes. sometimes I think about the end of chapter one of thundercracker’s origin, the night starscream took thundercracker out on a not-date. i think, who knows, in some version of the story maybe they shared a kiss? maybe they went back to the apartment and things went further? maybe. but of course, in every version of the story, starscream is gone the next morning. 

happy valentrine’s day!