#ch 1 princess

[artificial-radiance]

i'm gonna eat your heart out

[kentstoji]

jester!reader who was raised alongside kitana, but always in the position of a loyal and caring servant.

jester!reader who always had a terrible view of themselves and could never glimpse or accept the depth of their achievements or merits.

jester!reader who had peculiar powers, but stood out in the area of ​​healing generated through the melodies of their lyre.

jester!reader who formed a strange friendship with johnny cage and hanzo hasashi (the latter was filled with an overwhelming peace when they tried to cheer him up with generic jokes).

jester!reader who was struggling with their own depression.

[rgbyshipper101]

Welcome to year 2 of EI for me!

I have wrote a fic based off the art of @forestfairyunicorn

Thank you to the EI server for a wonderful experience!

Enjoy!

[kikyocaps]

[closet-of-nikki]

This is White Swan.

First released as a welfare event in May 2017, the suit was later added for crafting. It doesn't cost diamonds, and comes with an animated dress and an animated foreground item that is sadly not movable.

This suit is relatively easy to craft, only requiring drops from Maiden stages up to Vol. 1 Ch. 3. It will require a significant amount of gold and stamina, especially if you want to evolve it into the Black Swan suit.

Breakdown after the cut!

Animations coming in the reblog, because gifs are hard.

[destroyerofnations92]

Moodboard for up unto the overturned keel, ch. 1: Maegor come again.

"The Red Keep had been home to the last of the Valyrian dragonlords for nearly a century, but it was also home to hundreds of servants, as well as ambitious men. As King Viserys, the First of His Name, is about to become father to a son, the heir he has prayed for, plans fall apart and new players emerge."

[diathadevil]

My post canon HC for Princess Tutu is that after Gold Crown is restored the main cast just ends up reforming themselves through a bunch of modern music. Fakir goes from listening to MCR to switching it over to The Killers. Maybe even Paramore (something him and Rue would eventually bond over).

Meanwhile Ahiru ends up learning about Carly Rae Jepsen’s discography.

[penascigarette]

Smooth Operator Ch 1. A New Client

Joel Miller x f!phone sex operator

➴wc: 6.7k | summary: You unexpectedly find yourself drawn to a new client during a late-night call, who ignites a surprising wave of desire within you. As you engage in a steamy conversation, you realize this encounter is unlike any you've had before, leaving you eager for more and questioning the boundaries of your professional life.

➴warnings: mdni, phone sex, mxm phone sex, fxm phone sex, m&f masterbation lots of dirty talking, use of princess, shitty moodboard

➴an: hi! i hope you enjoy the first chapter of the first fic I have ever posted. if I have missed any warnings please let me know. feedback is super appreciated! now I will go run and hide lol. and a big tysm to @saradika-graphics for making such lovely dividers!

masterlist | series masterlist | pt. 2

You love sleeping, and just as passionately, you love your bed. Whenever you wake up in the morning, you spend at least ten minutes wrapped up in your duvet, savoring the warmth and comfort as you tease yourself with the idea of a nap.

This morning is no different. The sun shines outside, making your dark purple curtains look lighter than they actually are. If you open your eyes, you know you'll see dust particles floating through the air.

You take a deep breath through your nose and immediately wish you'd opened your windows to let in some fresh air. But you never do, even though you think about it every morning. It's too risky. Open windows are an open invitation to your worst fear—spiders.

Just the thought of their tiny, hairy bodies and long, wiggly legs sends a shiver down your spine. You pull the duvet tighter around your shoulders, practically imagining the creepy crawlies on your skin.

And of course, that's when your roommate, Elliot, decides it’s the perfect time to tickle your ear with one of his long, pink, kinky feathers—used for who-knows-what.

You scream, jump, and scramble off the bed like it’s suddenly caught fire. Your eyes—probably bloodshot with dark bags underneath—narrow at the grinning culprit, who is currently doubled over in a fit of laughter on the right side of your king-sized bed.

“What the fuck,” you huff, too tired to find any humor in this. You were so warm and cozy, and now that feeling is ruined for the next twenty-four hours. “You’re a real dick, you know that?”

 “Y-your face!” he chokes out between giggles. He looks far too fresh-faced for someone who’s just rolled out of bed. Still in his pajamas, his messy hair—short on the sides with a wave on top—looks like it hasn’t seen a brush this morning.

“It's not funny!” you argue, your voice rising over the sound of his laughter. You’re this close to stomping your foot at him. “I thought you were a spider!” Standing there in nothing but pink pajama bottoms and a black strap top, your skin prickles with goosebumps. Yet again, you curse him for ruining your warm, safe burrito.

That only makes him laugh harder. It’s hard to believe this man-child is twenty-eight years old when he acts less than half his age most of the time.

At the sound of his snort, you feel your lips twitch against your will. No, you’re pissed at him—there’s no way he’s going to make you laugh. But very quickly, you’re losing the battle. Have you ever tried not laughing with someone who has an impossibly contagious laugh? It’s damn near impossible.

“Whatever!” you say, rolling your eyes as a reluctant smile finally breaks across your face. You cross your arms over your chest, trying to look stern, but Elliot knows he’s won this round

“It’s getting late,” he says, still chuckling. His green eyes are watery from laughing, making them sparkle as he grins at you. Rolling onto his left side, he props his head up with one hand—the one holding the feather—while his other hand runs through his sandy-brown hair, slicking it back. “And you slept through your alarms again, so I thought I’d help you out.”

Damn, have you really? It wouldn’t be the first time. Waking you is like trying to wake the dead.

“Oh,” you say sheepishly. Fair enough, he had to wake you, but—“Did you have to use your kinky, sex feather...thing?” You shiver in disgust. “Who knows where that’s been.”

He shrugs innocently, twirling the offending object between his fingers. “Nowhere gross...” His eyes flick up to yours, and he smiles once more. “Only up Danny’s ass.”

Your eyes widen, and you splutter. “What? Oh, my god—Jesus, that’s just—” You gag in the back of your throat. “You said it hadn’t been anywhere gross!”

He laughs again, sitting up. “I was telling the truth. Danny’s ass was far from gross.” A faraway look crosses his face. “It was heaven,” he muses wistfully before frowning. “God, I miss him.”

“Oh, honey,” you soften immediately, making your way to the bed and crawling toward Elliot to offer some comfort.

You know Danny and Elliot’s breakup was hard on him. He’d been completely in love with that man and was about to ask him to move in—with you both—when Danny decided to end the year-and-a-half relationship. It just wasn’t working was his excuse, but Elliot later found out the truth when Danny updated his Facebook page: he’d left Elliot for someone else.

“He didn’t deserve you,” you say, trying to make him feel better as you drape an arm around his shoulders. Sitting back on your heels, you add, “He was a dick for what he did. You shouldn’t be sad. He’s the one who lost someone who loved him. The only thing you lost was—”

“A twat-waffle who didn’t deserve me, I know,” he cuts you off, reciting your usual line before you can finish. You’ve said it enough times in the past three months since the breakup that he knows it by heart. “Thanks for trying to make me feel better, but...doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt.”

“I know,” you respond quietly, your thoughts drifting to your own breakup. It’s been over a year now, but the pain still lingers. Your ex had been your first boyfriend—hell, your first everything. You’d met when you were seventeen, and you moved in with him before your next birthday. Everything happened so fast, and you didn’t see the cracks until it was too late. “But we have each other, right?” you say, giving Elliot a little shake.

He glances at you, his expression vulnerable. Big eyes, plucked thin eyebrows, a slight bump on his nose from when a bully broke it in his teens, full lips, high cheekbones, and when he smiles, dimples form on his cheeks.

“Yeah?” he replies, hopeful. “Even if I wake you up with a feather that’s been up my ex’s ass?”

You roll your eyes, pulling away to thump him on the arm. “Fucker,” you mutter as he starts giggling all over again. “Remind me why I love you?”

Grinning, he reaches into the pocket of his pajama shorts and pulls out his phone. "Because I'm adorable," he answers distractedly as he stares at the screen. "Oh, my first caller of the day! And it's Simon," he whispers the last part to you as if Simon could hear. "He sounds like a whale when he comes, but boy, does he have a gorgeous sex voice," he informs you. You snort as he accepts the call. "Why hello there, lover."

While Elliot makes himself comfortable against your pillows, you climb off the bed and head toward your wardrobe. You already have your outfit in mind—a pair of leggings and a plain white shirt.

"Mmm, that sounds so sexy, baby," you hear Elliot purr in the background, and you smile, shaking your head. You can’t imagine what people would think about you being in the same room as your guy roommate while he talks dirty to one of your clients, meanwhile, you're getting changed in the corner.

It’s a strange situation, to say the least.

As you remove your shirt with your back turned to Elliot, you can’t help but listen in to the conversation.

"I'd love to touch your nipples," Elliot hums behind you, getting into character. You know how much he loves talking dirty to guys. It’s a turn-on for him. Unlike you, who only really enjoys sex if it’s with someone you love. Elliot is way more adventurous and has had more one-night stands than you can count. "I'd love to stroke them, caress them, lick them. . .”

"Suck them," you add when you hear Elliot hesitate. You pull the straps of your bra up your arms and hook it at the back. 

“Oh, and suck them," Elliot says as you pull your top on.

Since Elliot is still fairly new to this, he needs help sometimes. His situation had been very similar to yours—a broken-up relationship, no job, and forced to move back in with his mum until someone came along and gave him hope. For Elliot, that person was you. For you, that person was your boss, Jane.

Elliot's voice lowers as he talks to his client. "Your body is so pretty, honey. I can't wait to trace my tongue up and down your belly, and then start going lower and lower until I reach your—”

You cough quietly to yourself, trying to hide your smile as you change into your leggings and slip on a pair of fluffy pink socks. You’ve heard Elliot talk dirty loads of times, and he’s heard you talk dirty just as many. Part of training him was him having to listen in on your conversations, and then you monitoring his. Neither of you gets embarrassed around it anymore. It’s more amusing, to be completely honest.

Deciding to leave Elliot to it, you grab your phone off your bedside cabinet and quietly tiptoe to the door. Before you leave, you look over to Elliot and mouth, Coffee?

He nods enthusiastically at you and mouths back, Yes, please!

You’re halfway down the steps when you rub your eye and feel the crumbly sensation of mascara under your fingertip. You’ve forgotten to take your makeup off the night before. You curse to yourself before heading back upstairs to fetch a makeup wipe.

When you reach your room once more, Elliot looks at you questioningly before he notices your face. His lips curl into his mouth in an attempt not to laugh. You roll your eyes and put your middle finger up at him before heading over to your dresser, which sits directly opposite your bed. You open the top drawer and feel through the ridiculous amount of makeup and beauty products you’ve collected over time. As your fingers search, your eyes stare forward at your flat-screen TV mounted on the wall. You can see Elliot's reflection.

"God, you feel so tight around me," Elliot is telling his customer, and you bite your lip in an attempt not to laugh. Finally, your fingers grip the packet of wipes, and you pull them free. "I'm gonna come inside of your ass so damn hard—," Elliot is cut off by a muffled roar, and you turn to look at him questioningly.

He is still sitting on your bed, back against the pillows with one hand holding the phone far away from his ear. He has an uncomfortable look on his face, and it’s then you realize the noise has come from the phone. Or, more accurately, the noise is the loud, animal-like groans of a man coming hard.

Oh my god," you whisper to him quietly, now understanding what Elliot had meant by Simon sounding like a whale when he came.

Elliot uses his other hand to cover the bottom half of the phone, preventing Simon from hearing you speak. "Every. Damn. Time," he replies just as quietly, looking so serious it makes you giggle. He cracks his own smile before bringing the phone back to his ear. "Oh, that sounded like a good one, baby."

You’re glad Simon isn’t one of your callers because you’re not sure you’d be able to stay professional with that sound in your ear. You take care of your makeup before finally getting started on coffee.

Your living room and kitchen are all in one room. The only thing separating the rooms is the counter you eat at. Silver stools with black padded seats sit underneath, four of them for when you have guests over.

You walk past the L-shaped sofa and the counter. Once the coffee is on, you get started on breakfast. You decide on some cheesy, ham-scrambled eggs. Just as you start mixing the ingredients, your phone vibrates where you’ve placed it on the counter. You lean over far enough to see the screen. When no name appears, only a number, you figure it must be a new client since you save existing clients in your phone book.

You accept the call and bring it to your ear. "Hey there," you purr in your sexy voice. You never thought you had one until Elliot pointed it out to you. According to him, it’s a hot one too. "Tell me, gorgeous, what’s your name?"

"Josh." He’s breathing heavily, sounding as if he’s already started the party without you. "I-I'm new to all this…phone stuff," he informs you.

"That's fine, Josh," you say with a slight smile. "My name's Angel, and I’m going to take care of you, all right?" Your name isn’t Angel, but for safety reasons, you’re Angel as far as your customers know. And yes, you’re well aware of how clichéd it is.

"Yes," he tells you, his voice rougher than before. He’s probably getting more excited. Now, all you need to do is find out what he likes.

"Tell me, honey, you like it hard or soft, hm?" you question just as Elliot’s footsteps sound on the stairs.

"God. Hard. I like it hard," Josh answers. "I like it when you take control, with a little pain. Yeah, I like that a lot." In the background, you can hear the sound of his hand working his dick. At least you know he’s enjoying himself.

"Okay, Josh," you nod to yourself, knowing exactly where to go from here. Elliot appears in front of you, his lips forming an 'o' shape when he sees you’re with a client. You nod your head toward the food you’ve been preparing, signaling him to take over as you move away from the counter and toward the living area. Elliot passes you on the way, his hand patting you on the shoulder.

You flop over the arm of the chair and onto the sofa, landing with a bounce on your back. "The first thing I want you to do is to strip for me, now," you order him, reaching toward the coffee table when you spot a magazine there. You bring it over to you and open it. "Are you naked yet?"

"Almost," he practically gasps to you. You can hear some more shuffling, and then he's telling you, "Yes, mistress, I'm naked."

Mistress? You sigh internally. You seriously can't believe how many men are into the whole dominatrix kink. In the beginning, it was kind of fun, but by now, it’s getting pretty old.

Mentally awakening your inner dom, you relax further into the sofa and flip through the magazine. "Good boy," you coo, finding a 20 Sex Tips for Women article. Huh, how fitting. "Now, here's what I want you to do, and you better listen closely, pet."

The call ends up lasting 2 minutes and 28 seconds. Not bad for a newbie.

________

“I might have a date this weekend," Elliot mentions casually, making you glance over the top of your book at him, eyebrows raised.

A few hours have passed since breakfast, and you've had at least seven phone calls since. The two of you are relaxing in the living room, you on one side of your L-shaped sofa and Elliot on the other.

"And why is this the first I'm hearing of it?" you respond, feeling rather hurt. You tell each other everything. You know the penis size of every boyfriend he's had. How can he share that information so easily yet let something like a date stay secret?

He cringes, and you just know you're not going to like what's coming next. "Because..." he hesitates, takes a deep breath, and rushes out, "BecauseitswithDanny." He says it so fast it almost doesn't register, but the name Danny sticks out like a sore thumb.

"What!?" you exclaim, book falling forgotten onto the floor as you sit up. You're completely shocked, and you imagine your expression says everything before you even open your mouth. "How can you—why would you want to after what he did?" You can't understand what's going through Elliot's head, but you seriously want to knock some sense into him.

"I tried hinting to you this morning!" Elliot tells you, sitting up. The magazine he'd been reading earlier falls onto his lap, his attention now completely on you. "I told you I missed him!"

You scoff at that. "A hint is, 'Oh, by the way, I'm thinking of going on a date with my ex.' Not, 'I'm going to tickle you with Danny's ass-feather, complain about missing him, and hope that you get the hint that I'm going out with him this weekend despite the fact he broke my heart!'" You take a deep breath, oxygen running low after that rant. "Look, I know it's none of my business—"

"Of course it's your business. You're my best friend."

"—I just don't want you to get hurt," you continue as you both stare at each other with similar expressions. You're both desperate for the other to understand how you're feeling without wanting to cause any upset. "I love you, honey...and it destroyed you when he left."

"He said he's sorry," Elliot tells you quietly, making you realize just how much they've been talking. A pang of hurt goes through your heart, knowing that Elliot felt like he couldn't talk to you about this. "He said it was a mistake, one he wouldn't make again. But I don't want to jump back into things so...I told him we'll start slow."

"Well," you nod slightly. "That's something, I guess." It comforts you to know that he isn't rushing into the relationship again. Maybe, if they start from scratch, it could work this time. Unfortunately, your gut tells you different. "I'm going to be honest with you, okay?"

Elliot gives you a lopsided smile, causing a single dimple to form on his cheek. "I wouldn't have it any other way."

You smile back for a moment before turning serious again. "I think...you're thinking with your heart and not with your head," you tell him softly. "I think you're in love with him, and you miss him, and you're not thinking rationally about this. Which I totally understand, honey. You love him; I know you can't help that. I just worry that Danny knows how you feel about him, and he's going to use it to his advantage." You watch Elliot's expression closely; he's nodding, letting you know he's listening.

You give your lip a quick nibble before continuing. "But if this is something you feel like you need to do, then I'll support you, you know that."

"Thanks, babe," he responds sincerely, but his eyes are sad. "You're right. I know you're right, but...my heart wants this so damn badly."

"What's your gut telling you to do?" you ask him curiously. You’ve always believed in following your instincts.

"Run," he answers with a painful laugh. "Run and don't look back because he's only doing this as a rebound."

You frown at the information. "Rebound?"

Elliot nods, tears filling his eyes. He crosses his legs underneath him, which surprises you given how skinny his jeans are. One arm goes to the back of the sofa while the other runs through his slick-backed hair. He pulls his lips into his mouth for a moment, a habit of his, before telling you, "Him and Voldemort broke up. Danny says he broke it off because he misses me, but I checked Voldemort's page, and it looks like he's gone and gotten himself a new guy."

You hold back a snort at his nickname for Gary. Voldemort. It suits him. From Elliot's information, you're guessing that Danny is only after a rebound, but Elliot doesn't want to admit it because he still wants to be with Danny.

"Honey..." you sigh, scooting across the sofa so you can give Elliot a cuddle. He immediately returns the gesture but stays seated, whereas you lean up on your knees, making you higher than him. You rest your head on top of his, your arms around his neck. You know you don't need to say anything. Elliot knows he's burying his head in the sand. You think he just needs to find out the hard way; otherwise, he'd always regret not trying.

"I'm here for you," you assure him. This is something he needs to do, and you can't protect him from it, no matter how much you want to.

"Thank you," he tells you tearfully. You can hear how upset he is, but he's trying to hold it back. You squeeze him tighter, wishing you could take away all his pain. "You're the best friend a guy could ask for."

Your lips curve at that. "I know," you joke because really, you're not that big-headed. "Now," you say as you pull away but keep your arms around his neck. "What do you say we turn our phones off for a while, get a Chinese, and watch some crappy chick flicks?"

His eyes are bloodshot and wet with tears, but the smile he gives you is genuine happiness. And that you completely understand because food makes you feel the same way. "I love you so much."

--

The film you end up watching is beyond cheesy, but the humor is awesome, and you find yourself giggling along. Your Chinese food is now in your overly-stuffed belly, and the only things left are the containers sitting on the coffee table in front of you.

You sit side-by-side with Elliot, shoulders touching, a leopard-print blanket draped over your laps. Both of you ordered a beer with the takeaway. It isn’t enough to get you drunk, but that wasn’t the plan since you need to turn your phones back on for work later.

By the time the film ends, Elliot seems to be in a much better mood. Hopefully, he’ll stay that way for the next few hours.

“Gosh,” Elliot starts, reaching behind the sofa to the side table where a lamp sits. He switches it on, making you both blink against the sudden brightness. “I haven’t laughed that hard in ages.”

“Same,” you say, squinting as your eyes adjust. Your muscles feel cramped, so you throw off the blanket and stretch. As you straighten your body, you begin to slide off the sofa but don’t bother stopping it. You let yourself slip onto the floor.

With the coffee table in the way, you have to arrange yourself so you’re lying between the sofa and the table. The wooden flooring is cold against your right arm, while the left side of your body enjoys the comfort of the fur rug.

“Weirdo,” Elliot snorts from above.

“Don’t judge,” you respond, letting out a yawn. Watching films always makes you tired. Maybe it strains your eyes. The floor is oddly tempting right now—so cozy—or maybe Elliot is right, and you’re just a weirdo.

“Ah, ah, ah,” Elliot speaks again, his foot nudging your side. “Can’t sleep now. We’ve got horny customers waiting.”

It’s only then you realize you’ve closed your eyes. “I’m up,” you mumble, forcing yourself to sit upright. The smell of Chinese food still lingers in the air. It was absolutely delicious, but your stomach protests now, begging you not to even inhale another whiff of it. You pat your belly proudly, knowing it did a good job handling the feast.

“Good,” Elliot says. “We gotta get to work.”

Neither of you moves.

“For fuck’s sake,” Elliot sighs after a moment, making you crack a smile. “It’s so much effort. I hate... effort,” he says, spitting the word as if it leaves a bad taste in his mouth.

You tilt your head to look at him better. “Just think about all those handsome, horny men stroking their dicks, waiting for you to—”

“I’m up!” Elliot exclaims, jumping to his feet. His hands dive into his pockets as you laugh loudly. “Christ, where’s my phone? My customers need me!” He’s being overly dramatic on purpose, and it makes you giggle even harder.

“It’s not funny!” he tells you, though he’s trying his hardest not to smile. “Who’s going to give those guys their orgasms? This is a serious situation!”

You giggle again, but then you try to put on a straight face. “You’re right. There could be a riot!” you gasp dramatically. “I’ll get on the phone to the prime minister right away!”

“And the president!” Elliot chimes in, but then you make eye contact, and the two of you burst into laughter. Sure, you can act pretty silly sometimes, but it’s healthy. At this age, you feel more mature than most people your age, but that doesn’t mean you can’t be childish once in a while.

Once you both calm down, you know playtime is over. It’s really time to get to work. Sighing, you take Elliot’s hand when he offers it to you, and he easily pulls you up from the floor.

“Thanks, kid,” you tell him, standing on your tiptoes to ruffle his hair. You know he hates when you do that.

He lets out a high-pitched squeak and backs away. “You know my rules!”

“No one touches the hair,” you recite dutifully.

“Yes!” he says, rolling his eyes. “And yet you always forget. And what do you mean ‘kid’? I’m older than you!”

“Yes, well, mentally you’re the age of ten, so…”

“Bitch,” he says, lightly punching your arm, and you laugh.

“Is that all you’ve got?” you tease.

He plants his hands on his hips, cocking a hip at you and raising an eyebrow. “Honey, you can’t handle what I’ve got.”

“I’m heading upstairs. Gonna talk dirty to some dudes, grab a shower, change into my pajamas, get some more horny people off, read a book, then go to bed.”

Elliot takes the phone and nods. “Sounds like a damn good plan,” he says, holding up his hand.

You smile and give him a high-five.

--

One of the hardest parts of your job is keeping things fresh and coming up with new ideas. That’s why you love working with Elliot. He’s a guy; he knows what men like, so whenever you feel like you need something different, he’s your go-to.

New customers are always the easiest to please. No matter what you say, it’s fresh to them. Exciting. It’s your recurring customers who require more effort. There are only so many ways to describe a blowjob before it starts feeling repetitive. When you get that feeling of déjà vu, you worry your client does too.

Oh, and trying to figure out what a guy likes? That’s another challenge. Sometimes, it feels like a seriously fucked-up game of I-Spy.

“I spy with my little eye…” Imaginary-you says in a hopeful voice. “A foot fetish? No? Fuck.” You’re rocking back and forth now, losing hope. “I spy with my little—oh, I know! Voyeurism?” you practically beg, thinking about pulling your brains out with a spoon if this doesn’t work. “…Golden showers?”

Okay, maybe you’re being a bit overdramatic, but you get the point. It’s frustrating, especially when the client is shy and doesn’t know what they like themselves.

Deciding you’re getting cranky—probably because you’re tired—you decide to finish half an hour early tonight. You shouldn’t, especially after already losing a few hours of work earlier, but you’ve made enough money to cover your half of rent and bills this month. You’ve still got a week to earn more for food and anything else you need.

So yeah, you’ll finish early.

Yawning, you pull the covers out from underneath your ass before throwing them over yourself. You’re already in your pajamas—a loose pair of pink shorts and a white strap top—and your book sits next to you, waiting to be read.

But just as you pick up your phone, ready to turn it off, a new number flashes on the screen. You stare at it for a moment, wondering if it’s worth leaving. The problem is, with it being a new customer, leaving a bad impression could mean they wouldn’t come back.

“Damn,” you mutter under your breath, knowing the professional businesswoman in you can’t risk losing what might end up being a recurring customer. As far as you know, this phone call could change your career. You snort at that. Highly unlikely, but it’s going to bring in extra money, which is a good enough reason. “Just this last one, then I’m going to bed,” you tell yourself.

You place the earphones back into your ears and press the green button on your touchscreen. “Hey there, handsome.” There’s a pause, and you briefly wonder if they’ve decided to hang up when he finally speaks.

“Hey,” he responds simply, sounding kind of awkward.

“You caught me just in time,” you say naughtily.

“Oh?” he sounds intrigued, though the awkwardness remains. He’s probably just shy or clueless about what to do. “Why is that?”

For a moment, you’re taken aback by how much you’re attracted to his voice. That’s never happened to you before, and he’s barely said five words. Masculine, educated, and gruff. Swoon.

“Um...” You try to get back into character while scolding yourself. The conversation has only just started; you can’t screw it up already. Get your head in the game, girl. “Because I’m wet and needing a man to help me out.” Internally, you wince. That’s pretty weak considering how good you usually are at this.

He doesn’t seem to think so because he releases a sexy, “Shit. I—” He’s breathing heavily, and you wait for him to finish, sensing he has something else he wants to say. “I don’t know if this was a good idea,” he admits after a moment.

Fuck, you’re losing him, and you’re losing him fast. You need to think quickly if you want to keep him on the line. You don’t want to admit it, but your interest in this man goes beyond the money you’re earning from him. He’s ignited something in you. “Wait! Please,” you breathe. “I—I’m so horny. I need you. Please? Just stroke your dick for me. I need it.” There you go; you knew you could do better.

“Damn it,” he hisses, and then there’s the sound of a belt buckle, and you know you’ve got him. “What’d you need, sweetie? Tell me,” he demands, and for the first time since doing this job, you feel a wave of lust hit you.

Swallowing in an attempt to bring moisture back to your dry mouth—it all seems to have headed south, if you know what you mean—you respond truthfully, “You.” Jesus, you shouldn’t be doing this, but before you can stop yourself, your left hand is slipping underneath your strap top and finding your breasts. “I need you, please—” You pause for a second. You don’t know if it will work, but if you’re right about him, this is going to go down a treat. For both him and for you. “—sir.”

And you’re right because he lets out a loud groan, making you squeeze your thighs together in response. Jesus, you haven’t wanted someone this badly in what feels like forever.

“Fuck, you’re going to be such a good girl for me, aren’t you?”

You’re already nodding before he finishes his sentence. “Yes, god, yes.” You move your right hand so it’s also caressing your breasts. In this moment, you completely love your headset, which allows you to talk and touch at the same time.

“Mm, you’re so obedient, baby,” he tells you, approval evident in his husky voice. “Tell me, Princess, tell me are your nipples hard?”

Your pussy clenches almost painfully, and you try to remind it to calm down because it’s only just started. “They’re hard. So hard they’re showing through my shirt.”

You’re getting so hazy with lust you’re not sure what to do with yourself, so you pinch your nipples roughly and almost cry out in frustration, knowing it would be so much better if he were doing it for you.

“Damn, that’s beautiful, sweetheart,” he tells you, and your belly does a funny flip. “You touchin’ them? Want you to roll them between your fingers. Not too hard, just enough pressure to leave you needing more.”

It’s not easy to admit, but you think he’s better at this than you are, and it crosses your mind that you should probably be paying him. “I already am,” you confess with a guilty laugh. “Your voice... it’s, uh, fucking hot.” You hesitate because you’re not sure if you can say that to him. It’s not very professional, but then you remind yourself that you’re only second-guessing it because you’re actually getting off on it.

"You that eager for me, princess?" he sounds pretty damn pleased with himself. "Tell me how it feels. You know, I'm stroking my dick to this. Getting hard over the noises you're making, and the pretty picture you're giving me."

The image of this man, who you are undoubtedly attracted to, stroking his hard cock over the thought of you pleasuring yourself drives you crazy. He seems so generous, something rare nowadays.

"It feels..." you breathe, trying to find the right words. "Like it's not enough. I need more. Christ." You throw your head back against your pillows, frustrated with yourself and the way you're acting. Completely unprofessional.

"Shh," he coos softly. "I've got you. I'm going to take care of you. Okay, princess?" He's so freaking good at this. You're practically shivering in anticipation of what he might say next. "I want you to get naked for me. And tell me, baby, you got any toys?"

"Um," you think about his question as you pull your strap top over your head. It gets caught on the earphone wire. "Wait a second." You quickly untangle yourself before placing the earphones back into your ears. Moving on to your shorts, you push them eagerly down your legs. "Yes, I have one of those little bullet vibrators."

"Good. I want you to get it for me, princess."

You bite your lip for a moment, feeling extremely dirty about what you're about to do. "Yes, sir..." you say before reaching toward your side cabinet and opening the bottom drawer. In an old, tiny, purple purse with a single zip sits the bullet. You take it out before getting comfortable on the bed once more. "I've got it."

He hums in approval. "Now, I'm more than happy to go slow, make this last, but I'm sensing that my girl wants to come hard and fast, am I right?"

You suck in an unsteady breath. Being called his girl really shouldn't make you feel as giddy as it does. Why and how does a complete stranger have such an effect on you? You're never one of those girls who fall for a man's charm easily. Yet here you are, swooning over a guy because he's good at talking dirty and has a sexy voice.

Apparently you were easier to seduce than you originally thought.

"Yes," you choke out, wondering if you'd wake up if you pinched yourself hard enough. You wouldn't try it, though, just in case you were dreaming. You really aren't ready for it to end. "God, yes."

"All right then," he chuckles, the sound warm. "I'll do what you want this time. Next time, what I say goes, okay, princess?"

Before you have a chance to respond, he's giving you more orders, and in no way are you complaining.

"I want you to spread your pretty little thighs for me, baby." His voice, and the way he's breathing, gives you the impression that he's getting just as excited as you are.

"Okay," you squeak rather embarrassingly. Cool air hits your most sensitive area as you do what he orders, your hands resting against the inside of your thighs, fingers clutching your vibrator as you wait impatiently for his instructions.

You have yet to turn the bullet on, but it already feels like your insides are vibrating.

"Now, take your hand and spread your pussy lips for me."

And there you go, once again speechless—and breathless—because of this man and his words. Seriously, he could do this job better than you. You have to admit, you're storing parts of this conversation away for both personal and professional use later on.

Your hands automatically do as he says, your body desperate for some kind of release. You feel overwhelmed and don't know where to start or what to do in order to relieve it. Thank God you have him to guide you; otherwise, you might combust. Then again, if he wasn't here, you wouldn't have this problem in the first place.

"Okay," you breathe, feeling more and more like a client than a sex line operator. But taking control is obviously something he enjoys, so who are you to put a stop to this? What’s the saying? ‘Customers are always right?’ Well, you absolutely, completely, one hundred percent agree!

"Stretch yourself out," he continues, his voice starting to strain. "Force your sexy little clit out of its hood. I don't want it hiding when you start fucking yourself. All right, princess?"

Fuckkk. Just when you think he can't possibly get any hotter, he goes and says that. Your pussy feels like it’s on fire; your clit is so swollen it hurts. You wouldn't be surprised if you came the second you put any pressure on your nub.

"Now," he continues. "Turn your bullet on and press it to your clit. You're not allowed to stop until your legs are shaking and you're calling out my name. Got it?" You can hear how hard he's pumping his dick now. For a moment, you feel guilty. Are you neglecting him? But then you remind yourself again that this is what he wants.

You know you're not going to last long. You're too excited. Not to mention, it’s been a while since you've spent some time with your right hand. You twist the top of your bullet, putting it on the highest speed. You know you're worked up enough to take it; usually, you start on low and build your way up because you're overly sensitive. Right now, you know it won’t be an issue.

The bullet starts to shake violently, but the noise is low, like a quiet buzzing. Your left hand holds yourself open, fingers forming a 'V' and spreading your lips as far as you can, just as he instructed.

You don’t need to tell him what you’re doing; the moment you press the bullet to yourself, a half-gasp, half-moan escapes your lips. You’re right—you definitely won’t last long. The vibrations are intense, and you draw small circles on yourself, pushing yourself even closer to the edge.

“Damnit,” he hisses. You’re quickly learning it’s one of his favorite words. “You sound fucking sexy. Wish I could see you. Watch you,” he inhales sharply. He’s just as close as you are.

“What’s—” you attempt to speak but end up gasping instead. Wetness gathers below, soaking your entrance and trailing toward your clit. The added lubrication lets the bullet slide more freely around your nub, the sensation unbelievable. “What’s—”

“Princess?” he chokes, likely having the same problem as you.

So close now. So fucking close. You just need a little more. The rhythm is perfect, and you can hear him breathing in your ear, letting out the occasional groan. It’s too damn much, but you can’t let yourself go—not without— “What’s your name?”

"Joel."

"Fuck - Joel!"

You see stars, as cliché as it sounds. Your whole body breaks into spasms, your left hand falling to the sheets and gripping the fabric desperately. Your right hand forces the bullet between your slippery lips, and your thighs clamp around your hand. Incoherent words tumble from your mouth: “Oh god,” “Fuck,” and Joel’s name.

As you come back down to earth, you can hear that Joel barely followed two seconds behind.

“Damn it, Princess. You’re so fucking good. Sound so pretty. Done so well,” the words spill from his mouth like sweet wine. He probably isn’t even aware of them. The sound of him fisting his dick is irregular and off-beat. “Fuck. Damn. You’re such a good girl.”

You remove the bullet from yourself—if you leave it there any longer, it’s going to become painful—and let out a giggle. Your cheeks are flushed, your body buzzing with pleasure. Lightheaded and giddy, you think to yourself that this guy must be amazing in bed. “That was fucking amazing.”

“Yeah,” he laughs breathlessly. “You can say that again. I can’t believe I almost hung up.”

“That would have been bad,” you reply, wondering if your heart will slow down anytime soon. “Very, very bad.”

“Oh yeah,” he agrees, then pauses before adding, “Let me ask you something.”

“Go ahead.” You hesitate for only a moment. It’s unusual for clients to stick around afterward, but you’ve quickly realized this guy isn’t a normal caller.

“What’s your real name?” he asks. “No way is it ‘Angel.’” He snorts, finding your alias hilarious.

Is Angel that bad of a name? You think it’s kind of cool. The company is called Angels and Demons, with you being the Angel. Elliot’s alias is Daemon because it’s close to “demon” but sounds way better. When a customer calls, they get an automated voice instructing them to press the number for their chosen operator, complete with a brief description.

You’re losing your train of thought; you can’t give him your real name, can you? It’s against the rules. If Jane found out, she’d be pissed. She wouldn’t fire you, but her anger is almost as bad. With the image of facing her wrath in mind, you tell Joel, “I’m sorry, I can’t.” Your tone is regretful because you’d really like to tell him. “My boss would…it’s against the rules.”

“Ah,” he responds, masking the disappointment. “It’s all right. I understand.”

“Sorry,” you apologize again, hating the idea of letting him down, especially after how amazing he just made you feel.

"Seriously, Princess, it’s fine,” he reassures you, easing the guilt. “I had a really good time tonight. You can bet I’ll be expecting a repeat tomorrow.” You just know that if you could see him right now, his eyes would sparkle with mischief.

Your pussy throbs again just thinking about it. God, he makes you insatiable. “I’m really, really looking forward to it,” you tell him honestly.

“Me too.” There’s a brief pause, then, “Goodnight, Princess.”

“Goodnight, Joel.” Hanging up the phone, you place it against your lips, letting everything sink in. Alone with your thoughts, you can’t believe you just had full-blown phone sex with a client. It’s so unlike you. It’s more like something Elliot would do. Speaking of…

“Elliot, you won’t believe what just happened!” you shout at the top of your lungs.

[st4rg8te]

Twisted Affections (GL) (P. 1)

Yandere! Emperor's Mistress X Empress! Reader

✦✧✦✧

The lessons that had been instilled in you since birth resurfaced in your mind: ‘The Mother of the Nation should be dignified, elegant, and composed. She should never show any sign of weakness in front of her subjects.’ 

But you couldn’t help but break in her embrace.

✦✧✦✧

P. 2: x

[tw: adultery, s*xism, slight description of blood/injury]

✦✧✦✧

Your marriage with your husband—the Emperor, was a cold and loveless one, devoid of any warmth or affection. 

The two of you were betrothed to each other at a young age for the sake of politics. You were the daughter of an influential duke, while he was the heir to the throne. To the gaze of others, it had seemed like the perfect match. 

You had once thought the same. Hoping that the differences between the two of you would find a resolution in the arrangement, but that wish gradually withered away, unfulfilled. 

What could you do but silently endure the circumstances you were placed in? Until now, you had always maintained the perfect facade expected of an Empress.

As the years passed, the weight of responsibility overshadowed the absence of love in your marriage, settling deep within you as resigned acceptance.

But deep down, a small, naive part of you still wished for a happy ending with your prince charming, like in all those fairy tales your mother had once read to you before she died.

Your parents’ marriage had also been an arranged one, but as a little girl, you remembered the way your father would look at your mother as if she had hung all the stars in the sky. Perhaps one day, your husband would look at you in the same way?

It was simply too bad that this small hope of yours had been mercilessly crushed the moment your husband brought her home.

The sight of them together made your stomach twist into knots, and your words were caught in your throat. You felt your hands tremble as you clutched the silky fabric of your gown, trying to maintain a steady composure.

She was beautiful, with flowing blond locks and bright blue eyes that sparkled in the sunlight filtering through her delicate skin.  Although dressed in a simple gown that marked her status as a commoner, she exuded the grace and elegance of a noble princess.

A faint smile played on her lips as she laughed lightly with your husband, and he returned her smile with an equally warm one.

Why had he never smiled at you like that before?

“Her Majesty has arrived!” announced the servant behind you, and only then, did the lovers part.

Your eyes met bright baby blue ones. Her face lit up with excitement and delight as she took several steps toward you before stopping abruptly, realizing she was in front of the Emperor's wife.

Her eyes widened, and she immediately fell into a curtsy. Her dress rustled softly as her head dipped lower, revealing the graceful lines of her neck and arms.

The action made your lips twitch.

"G-greetings, Your Majesty! I've been looking forward to meeting you." Her voice held a slight tremor as she spoke.

She seemed younger than you, an edge of innocence that stirred people's protectiveness under her words—it served as another bitter reminder that the man you married did not belong to you.

You ignored her gaze boring into you; instead, turning your eyes back to your husband.

Your tone was icy, "What is this?"

"Lucia is going to live at the palace." He replied smoothly.

A hazy sense of familiarity washed over you once you heard her name come out of his mouth, but that was quickly forgotten with his next words:

"I intend to make her my concubine."

"What?" Your breath hitched sharply. "Why was I not informed of this sooner?"

He furrowed his brows in disapproval, "I do not need to explain my decisions to you. Do not get ahead of yourself."

"Have you not thought about what others would think—"

"Is that all you worry about?”

“Excuse me?”

“You have failed in your duty as my wife, for four years, you have not bore me a single child. It was about time someone else took care of it."

The harshness of his words cut through you like a blade, leaving you momentarily speechless. He continued, unperturbed by your silence, "My decision is final. I expect you, as the Empress, to give her suitable accommodations and see that she gets properly educated and trained."

You suddenly felt the urge to laugh, a humorless scoff ripping from your mouth as a cold fury burned within you. Shaky fingers curled tightly against your palm until it drew blood.

Your voice was hollow.

"I have important matters to attend to. Enjoy your stay, Lady Lucia."

Without waiting for an answer, you turned on your heel and strode out the grand corridors. The entourage of servants silently trailing behind you.

The sound of thundering steps echoed throughout the halls, but you had never felt as lonely as you did in that moment.

✦✧✦✧

Soon, word had spread quickly of Lucia's arrival as the Emperor's new concubine.

Even your family had heard the news. You were quickly met with a wrathful letter from the Duke, shaming you for losing to another woman—a commoner, no less.

For days, you had remained alone in your chambers. Rereading the scathing remarks written on the crumpled letter over and over again. Your father’s scorn a heavy burden on your already weary shoulders.

But what could you do? The Emperor's actions were beyond your control. It wasn't unheard of for a monarch to take lovers, and in some ways, even expected.

And the task of ignoring the jeers and taunts behind your back was becoming increasingly harder. In order to distract yourself, you began to drown yourself in the your duties.

"—They say Her Majesty is infertile. If that's true then here's no doubt about it; she'll be replaced by that new girl soon."

"—She's growing older each day, but there is still no sign of a child being conceived. Of course His Majesty would become tired of her."

"Poor thing."

Humiliation coiled in your gut like a snake. Behind you, your personal maid, Mary, spoke up, her voice filled with indignation on your behalf.

"Your Majesty, I'll go teach them a lesson—"

"No need," You replied, with a composed exterior, you continued walking. "Let's go."

As your husband had requested, you provided Lucia with everything he had asked for: servants, new gowns, jewelry, and suitable living quarters (which you ensured were as far away as possible from your residence). The lavish gifts and living space were more than generous, a testament to your patience.

You had also ensured that her presence would be kept minimally invasive to your daily life. Hopefully, the only times you would encounter her were on formal occasions, and nothing else.

At least that was what you had wished for, but it seemed that fate had a cruel way of playing tricks on mortals.

From the corner of your eye, a hint of blonde hair caught your attention. You halted in your steps as Lucia's face came into view, accompanied by a small group of her attendants.

‘Why was she here?’

The sight was enough to put you on edge; the last person you wanted to see right now was your husband's mistress.

She wore a delighted expression on her face as the group made their way toward you, "Your Majesty! I've been looking for you.”

Before you could respond, Mary stepped forward and quickly curtsied before the blonde woman, a hint of unfriendliness in her tone:

"Lady Lucia, how can we help you?"

An indiscernible emotion flashed across Lucia's eyes before she smiled again.

"I wanted to thank Her Majesty for all the help she has given me, and was going to invite her for tea."

Was she testing your patience on purpose? You couldn't believe your ears.

"Her Majesty has important business to attend to. Perhaps we could arrange another time." Mary suggested firmly. 

But the blonde woman ignored Mary’s words, and turned her expectant gaze towards you instead. You remained composed, offering Lucia a polite smile that did not quite reach your eyes.

"I appreciate the kind gesture, Lady Lucia. But perhaps another time.”

Lucia's smile faltered, and she slowly nodded her head, "I see... I'm sorry if I'm bothering you,"

You made a mental note to instruct the guards later not to let her wander around freely anymore. Seeing her every day would likely ruin your mood even more.

"—But,"

Shocked gasps rose from the attendants around you.

“My lady!”

Lucia paused, then her delicate fingers lifted the hem of her gown to reveal the crimson-stained slippers underneath. The blood had seeped through, staining her pristine white stockings a dark, ominous shade of red.

Your eyes widened in shock. Unaccustomed to the sight of blood, the gory display was enough to send shudders down your spine.

"Lady Lucia... What is the meaning of this?" You demanded, your voice trembling slightly as an unsettling feeling began to settle in the pit of your stomach.

Lucia's eyes were wide, and her lips curved up into a serene smile, "It wouldn't hurt Her Majesty to join us this once."

Her voice rang out, sickeningly sweet:

"I only wish to repay you. It would be a shame for His Majesty to hear about his beloved concubine getting injured in the Empress' own quarters. Wouldn't you agree, Your Majesty?"

✦✧✦✧

[mistyorchid]

Meet-Cute (Ch. 3)

Old Man!Logan x fem!reader

summary: You and Logan relax during a particularly hot summer day, engaging in "parallel play" together. An innocent hangout quickly gets heated after he overhears a nsfw Twitter video blaring from your phone. Goddamn auto play. Ch. 1 Ch. 2 warnings: MDNI, no use of y/n, smut, established relationship, age gap, reader is 21+, oral fixation, praise kink, oral (male!receiving), light d/s, pet names (bub, baby, babe, daddy, good/dirty girl, princess), size kink, slapping (referenced + explicit), cum play. wc: 3.6k

Logan kept his promise. Well, you didn't go on a million more dates, but the time you spent together stretched the meaning of time itself. They started as singular outings; with early nights overlapping into early mornings. It didn't take long until your dates morphed into week-long "hangouts" at his place.

You willingly uprooted your life for Logan after a year of dating, packing your world into cardboard boxes and weaving it into the fabric of his home. The only thing you missed was the in-unit air conditioner that cooled your tiny apartment. It turns out that summers are unbearable when you live in a smelting plant.

The metal walls and poor insulation transform your makeshift studio into a furnace. Oil paint fumes waft upwards from the canvas, aggravating a migraine that slowly travels from the top of your head to your temples. In an attempt to preserve your sanity, you rapidly untie the paint-stained apron and storm out of the studio.

Beads of sweat trickle into your cleavage, gathering at the underwire of your bra. You tear it off somewhere between the kitchen and the living room; you can't be bothered to pick it up from the floor. Maybe Logan will stumble upon it and stash it away, an uncharacteristically pervy habit that he thinks goes unnoticed.

"I'm melting, Logan. Save me!" You slump into the couch, dramatically grazing your forehead with the back of your hand to mimic a damsel in distress. Logan lowers his newspaper to acknowledge your presence. Cigar smoke billows from his mouth; the inky tendrils momentarily fogging his glasses.

"Not much I can do, bub. Fan just died," He explains, tilting his nose towards the archaic floor fan. An annoyed grumble escapes your lips as you move to the end of the couch, relaxing your head against the armrest and stretching out like a starfish. Logan shifts the paper to one hand to lightly caress your ankle.

You stare at the ceiling, mentally conjuring metallic constellations by connecting the bolts and welds. It takes five minutes for you to snap your eyes shut in defeat. Although you normally accept boredom as a challenge—a testament to your imagination, the sweltering heat makes it difficult to think.

Logan quirks his brow, sensing your exhaustion. "You're such a baby. It's barely ninety in here." You shake his palm off your leg and draw your knees toward your stomach, creating a makeshift boundary against his feigned judgment. "Barely ninety? Don't piss me off," You laugh, reaching for your phone on the coffee table.

Parallel play is new to Logan. He tends to isolate himself, preferring to spend his leisure time alone. When you introduced the concept to him, he dismissed you with an eye roll that bordered on sassy instead of annoyed. "You getting this from your Tick-Tock-whatever the fuck?"

"Let's be alone together," You reasoned. He’s enjoyed these moments of domesticity ever since.

Your index finger lingers above the touchscreen, debating which app will distract you from the heat. The comforting feeling of Logan's hand returning to your ankle inspires you to open Twitter. Your body is slowly relaxing and you want your brain to follow suit.

Logan cherishes your laugh as you stumble upon a hilarious tweet. You scroll further, settling on a video that displays a pitch-black screen. Assuming it was an edit, you wait for a transition to reveal a montage from a show you liked, or an incredibly depressing edit of Kendall Roy. Those always seemed to invade your TikTok for-you page around 3 am.

Your jaw drops when it fades into the unmistakable sight of an amateur porn video. It depicts a woman on her knees, presumably filmed by her partner. The man slaps his cock on her tongue before slowly inching the tip into her eager mouth. "That's a good girl, drool on my cock," the faceless man praises.

The video had been relatively silent until that moment.

Nothing could have prepared you for the high-pitched moan that traveled from the girl's throat and out of your phone's speaker. You were ambushed. Logan pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose and shakes his head, pointedly refusing to react to the noise. "I'm reading the paper, and you're watching porn?"

"I didn't click on it, I scrolled, I—" you threw your phone onto the couch, crossing your arms over your eyes to shield your flustered cheeks. "—Ugh! whatever." Your embarrassment provides Logan ample time to grab your phone as he quickly unlocks it and scrolls back to the source of the moan.

Auto-play resumes, suddenly filling the room with the sound of more slapping. "Please give it to me, Daddy! Promise I'll be good for you," the woman pleads in an exaggerated falsetto. Logan shoves the phone in front of your face, forcing you to acknowledge the video.

"You into this shit?" He asks, invading your mortified posture to push your arms away from your face. His knee slots in between your stretched legs, effectively caging you in. "I asked you a fuckin' question." His gruff tone would have scared you if it wasn’t accompanied by the slight upward curve of his mouth.

Logan's cock throbs as his eyes linger on your gaping mouth. You were reacting appropriately, dropping your jaw in shock. All Logan could think about was how your plush lips formed a perfect "o," similar to the woman on the screen.

"I plead the fifth," You huff, narrowing your eyes and reaching out to pause the video. Logan clicks his tongue while mocking you, shaking his head side-to-side. "It's in your feed. Doesn't that mean you are into this shit?"

Fuck. You regretted explaining social media algorithms to Logan. It was an act of charity, showing an old man how to use the "interwebs," as he first called it. He'd still have a flip phone if you didn't explain why only drug dealers and Y2K-obsessed tweens used them.

You push Logan's knee forward, making him momentarily lose his balance. He falls on top of you, the full weight of his adamantium-plated bones pressing you firmly into the couch. Logan's heart drops in his chest as he sees you shut your eyes in pain. "Oh my god, I-" He uses his elbow to twist away from your chest, landing on the floor with a comically loud thunk.

He groans with the force of the fall and immediately regrets landing on his back. The scarred planes had already been traumatized by decades of recklessness, but his old age further weakened their tenacity.

"I'm sorry, babe. You okay?" He slowly rises to his feet, grimacing when he hears his joints creak under the weight. Logan uses the edge of the coffee table to stand up fully. "Yeah, I'm fine. Thanks," You squeak, unable to meet his worried stare. When he fell on your chest, you could feel his bulge through the thin cotton boxers.

Two can play that game.

You fail to stifle a giggle as Logan waves his hand in a sweeping motion in front of your face. "You sure I didn't hurt you? Seems like you're in shock," He asks, genuinely concerned with your well-being.

"You're hard," You state, fixated on the prominent tent in his boxers. Logan is a cocky motherfucker; he rests his hands on his hips and slightly leans backward, emphasizing the bulge.

"Yeah? So what? I’m always hard when you wear those shorts. Makes me feel like a fuckin’ teenager." He smirks, clearly enjoying the sight of your flustered face. His nostrils subtly flex and you can tell he smells how wet you are for him. It's simultaneously embarrassing and empowering unraveling for Logan—you feel so timid under the heavy weight of his gaze, yet so brazenly sensual.

“Know what I think?” You drawl, shifting from your position on the couch to stand before Logan. His broad frame would be intimidating if he weren’t so gentle with you. Only you. Sunset filters through the lace curtains you installed last summer to soften the hostile industrial space. Soft, indeed. The living room is swathed in an amber glow, and so is Logan’s face. The light tenderly traces each wrinkle and scar—decorations gifted by the tedious passing of time. Your calves burn as you rise on your toes, lips grazing the shell of his ear.

You grasp his strong shoulders to stabilize yourself before whispering, “I think you’re secretly into this, too.” Logan turns his head away from you, closing his eyes to conceal how much your words affect him. He’s confused when he feels you rake your palms against his chest, only opening his eyes when your hand catches on the waistband of his boxers.

Logan’s a man of few words. Your unabashed look of adoration combined with your position on the floor stole any he could use to disagree.

“What’s the matter, Daddy? Cat got your tongue?” You lean forward, tenderly nuzzling your cheek against his leg. 

“Jesus,” Logan mumbles, tentatively reaching down to pet the top of your head. “You’re fuckin’ filthy. Don’t call me that.” The gravel of his voice triggers a dull throbbing in your core. It was easy to unravel for him because he never demanded your submission. He earned it by respecting your mind and body, nurturing it like a fragile orchid that could wither if handled without care. 

You strain your neck to peer into his eyes. He tugs on your roots before tenderly tracing your bottom lip—a silent betrayal of his plea. “Why, you don’t like it? I’ll stop if you don’t,” You reason, allowing him to admire your plush lips. A ragged groan escapes him as he watches you suck his callused thumb into your hot mouth before releasing it with an audible pop.

“It’s not that, I just—” His words die in his throat as you pull the hem of his boxers down, tugging the elastic until you can feel his hard cock bob on your face. You gently stroke his length before pressing your cheek against it, smiling against his warmth. “I don’t wanna ruin you any more than I already have,” He chokes. The doubt written on Logan’s face kills you. You’re suddenly on your feet again and Logan’s cock can’t help but twitch at the absence of your hot breath. 

“Stop it. I hate when you say shit like that.” Logan resists the urge to clench his eyes shut. He hates it when you look at him like he’s a puzzle you’re eager to solve. “All you’ve done is give me everything I’ve ever wanted,” You sigh, reaching on your toes to burrow your head into the crook of his neck. 

Logan wallowed in self-deprecation like it was his job. The age gap between you both was a recurring theme of past arguments. He often distanced himself whenever you begged to ride him, gazing sympathetically into his eyes as you felt his thrusts falter. 

You cherished it.

He could be bandaging your knee after a bad fall in the studio and then spanking your ass until it matched the deep purple and red hues mixed on your palette. The duality drove you crazy. Logan knew exactly when to nurture you and when to fulfill your desire to be taken, worn down; he masterfully chipped away at the facade of your resolve until you were pliant in his rough embrace.

“Besides, ‘Daddy’s just a term of endearment. Same as baby, doll . . . my girl.” You whisper, teasingly nipping his earlobe. “I love being your girl.”

Logan’s hesitation breaks at that, planting a chaste kiss on your neck and inhaling the comforting scent of your hair. You smelled like home.

“Can you get on your knees for me, baby?”

The subtle command ignites a tender ache in your bones—you’re suddenly slinking down his form and bracing against the cool concrete. This must be how people felt when the first skyscraper was built. The towering mass of his body is deliciously intimidating; you’re at his feet, worshipping the foundation of an idol that refuses to be honored.

His hips jut forward as you teasingly lick the head of his cock in short, cat-like strokes. You indulge in his flesh, roaming the hard planes of his thighs and caressing the black tendrils around the base. Something in Logan breaks when you pause to gently kiss the tip while peering up at him through your fluttering lashes. 

“Give me your phone,” He commands. You were too embarrassed to admit how much you craved this side of him. Your back strains with your sudden movement to reach behind you, knocking little knick-knacks on the coffee table as you fumble for the phone. 

Logan’s cock twitches as you hurriedly unlock it before presenting it to him like a pup offering its owner a bone. “I, uh—” His voice hitches when you place your hands on your thighs; your arched back pushing the swell of your breasts against his legs. “I need you to open the camera app for me.”

A teasing smirk overpowers your once coy visage. “Sure thing, Daddy.” You strain to reach the phone, quickly swiping to find the cute camera icon. He’s purposefully not bridging the distance. 

He’s making you work for it.

Logan reverses the camera before angling it in front of your face. “Repeat what she said.” His hooded eyes follow your dumbfounded expression, lingering on the inviting expanse of your lips. You stutter as Logan’s thumb traces dizzying patterns on your open mouth, dipping in quickly to collect your spit.

“Pl- please give it to me, Daddy . . . promise I'll be good for you,” You drawl, satisfied now that you could feel Logan in your mouth. Your face is inches away from his hard cock and you can’t help but admire how fucking pretty he is. When he’s worked up like this, his cock resembles an enticing red lollipop, shiny with the glaze of your spit. The line between your internal thoughts and external babbles blurs as you murmur, “Wanna suck you off so badly. Need to taste you.” 

“What was that, bub?” He props up your chin with his finger, helping you focus on his hazel eyes. He shifts the phone into his left hand before firmly grabbing the base of his cock with his right to lightly slap your cheek. “I asked you a fuckin’ question,” He growls, snapping you out of your horny reverie.

Your voice is meek and airy, a familiar sign that you’re falling further into a comfortable haze. There were no labels to describe your relationship, but you both fostered a nurturing pattern of dominance and submission—often smudging the lines whenever necessary. At this moment, all you wanted was to surrender to him.

“I need to suck your cock, Daddy.” You smirk as it bobs almost subconsciously, leaving dribbles of precum on your cheek.

“Good girl. Fuck.” The praise lures a wanton moan out of your throat that sends pleasant vibrations throughout Logan’s body. You slowly inch the tip in, eagerly spreading his precum around the head with your tongue. Heavy, thick, and wet. So unbelievably wet.

Logan’s stifled growls encourage you to grasp the heft of his cock with both hands. You often joked that jerking him off would give you arthritis in your right hand; the stamina needed to twist up and down his length utterly exhausted you.

His eyebrows knit together in pleasure, a silent love letter to your unabashed yearning to soothe him—in mind, body, and spirit. You adore Logan like this, all bark and no bite. 

“So fuckin’ needy, hm?” You peer up at him through your lashes, focusing on the subtle twitch of his nostrils. “Just the tip and you’re already a mess,” He chuckles. Although you’ve enjoyed each other’s company for a few years, a warm blush always manages to reveal how flustered you get whenever Logan smells your arousal. The strained moans that tumble out of his throat ignite a dull throbbing sensation in your core.

Logan opens his eyes when he realizes your hands have left his cock, eager to scold you (lovingly, of course.) He thrusts into your mouth as he’s greeted by the sight of you desperately toying with your clit, pausing here and there to slap against the sensitive bud. 

You can barely think. Pleasure transforms into a tangible gift, tied off with a voluminous red bow. The pressure to open the box is removed—you’re content with admiring the details of its exterior, swirling your fingers on the silky textile and getting lost in the feeling.

“Ah—Logan! I’m gonna— fuck, I—” You stutter, unable to string together words into a sensible arrangement. Logan slowly thrusts deeper into your hot mouth, reuniting your nose with the coarse hair around the base.

He pulls back slightly when you gag around him. Your pussy flutters as you feel his cock harden at the involuntary sound, somehow stretching your mouth even more. “I know, baby,” Logan sighs, gently wiping away your tears. “Shhh . . . you can take it.”

Every time your mouth swallows his entire length, you dart your tongue out to playfully coat his heavy balls with spit. You’re acting like a bitch in heat—as if the thought of living without the taste of Logan’s cock would be futile. Realistically, you knew that the masculine salt of him on your tongue served as a reminder of his tangible presence in your life, a presence that was meaningful, nurturing, and everlasting.

“That’s a good girl. Drool on Daddy’s cock,” Logan praises, adapting the line from the video.

Your release is sudden and impactful. The shaky tone of your cries corresponds with the shakiness of Logan’s hand. His knuckles turn white as he struggles to hold the phone upright.

“Oh my god, oh my god, mmmm!—” You moan, muffled by the delicious drag of Logan’s cock. “Ah—I’m coming, fuck . . .” Your swollen clit pulses as your thighs cave inwards, pushing you even closer to the hilt.

He comes immediately following your orgasm, finding your fucked-out expression unbelievably attractive and haunting. Thick ropes of cum flood your mouth and you can feel his cock twitch when your eyes meet. A rough cacophony of moans and grunts breaks free from Logan’s chest.

You look utterly ruined. Swollen lips still stretching around his girth, tears etched onto the flustered apples of your cheeks. “As beautiful as you look right now, I need to pull out, baby.”

You’re desperately trying to taste more cum from his weeping slit, but Logan manages to push away from you with a dramatic hiss. His jaw falls when he watches you emphasize the act of swallowing his cum.

“My dirty girl,” He drawls, pleased when you stick out your tongue as proof. You want the echo of Logan’s thick cock slapping onto your tongue to be ingrained in your mind. It doesn’t take long for him to explode again. You help him along, breathlessly stroking the plush stiffness of his cock and looking up at him with sinfully soulful eyes.

The first streak lands on your lips. Logan’s head rolls back as he mindlessly ruts forward, painting your entire face with hot cum.

He returns to earth when you press chaste licks to the tip once again. “Holy shit, there’s so much cum, I’m sorry—” Logan apologizes, stunned by the masterpiece he’s created. His release drips down the sloping facade of your cheekbones before landing on your cheeks and lips. You quickly dart out your tongue to taste him.

“Don’t be, Daddy. Can you give me some more?” You plead, batting your eyelashes. Logan pauses the recording and  tosses the phone onto the couch. Before you can process why, you hear a loud thunk on the concrete.

Logan kneels in front of you to match your position on the floor. He reaches out to brush your hair away from your face, studying the white marks adorning your skin.

“You’re so pretty with my cum on your face,” He sighs. Your eyes widen when he reaches down, dragging two thick fingers through your sensitive folds. Then, he swipes the same fingers through his cum before bringing them to his lips and sucking gently.

He closes his eyes, truly indulging in the delicacy of your love. “Mmm. We taste so good together, baby. Wanna try?” You nod earnestly, biting your lip to dampen your whimpers. Logan repeats the process, in awe of the way you lean into his touch.

Logan doesn’t register that you’re falling until he’s sprawled out on the cool concrete floor with your tits cushioned against his chest. He’s quick to check on you, stunned by the sudden movement.

“You okay, princess? What happened?” Worry is framed by the wrinkles between his brows.

“Mhm, Logan. Daddy. We do taste good together,” You confirm, feeling pleasantly overwhelmed yet supported against the solid foundation of his body.

Logan kisses you sweetly, wrapping his broad arms around you to stabilize your torso. “It’s a lot cooler on the floor, baby. Gotta clean you up, I’ll be right back.” You whine as he gently rolls over to lay you on the floor before walking towards the kitchen.

After picking up a nearby towel and wetting it under the faucet, Logan almost slips on something on his way back to the living room.

The familiar heart pattern of the bra makes the corners of his mouth turn upwards; it’s satisfying knowing that you left these out for him rather than randomly forgetting a thong here and a lacey bralette there. You were deliberately feeding into his desires and he loved you for it.

You both played the game of life together, and Logan wouldn’t want it any other way.

an: I heard it's someone's bday today . . . I hope they never read this but consider Meet Cute Ch. 3 my gift to all of you. Thanks for being so patient, I know it's been a while. FYI I imagine the character whenever I'm writing, not the actor. Hope everyone has a great weekend.

tag list: @bratscave @elflutter @fairiebabey @pointyxsole @scorpiosaintt @th3mrskory

[dylsluvrs]

ryomen sukuna x reader | college au [18+]

touchdown ch.1 ryomen sukuna wants to send you a message!

ᡣ𐭩 pairing. football player! sukuna x journalism major! reader

ᡣ𐭩 summary. ryomen sukuna. your best friend’s frat brother. he’s tall, hot, suave, not to mention the best thing to happen to college football since…well, ever. he’s in a world completely different to your own. while he spends his nights partying and racking up his body count, you spend your nights reading and racking up your word count. but when the two of you decide to come to a mutually beneficial agreement, you realise you aren’t so different after all.

ᡣ𐭩 warnings/tags. 18+. fem!reader, fluff, angst, smut, college au, fraternities, sororities, partying, alcohol consumption, weed consumption, romance, jealousy, pining, slow burn, fake dating, opposites attract, acquaintances to lovers, she falls first he falls harder, sukuna being an asshole, best friend gojo.

ᡣ𐭩 chapter. 1/?

ᡣ𐭩 word count. 700

ᡣ𐭩 a/n. hello readers! welcome to the first chapter of touchdown!! i hope you’re all having a great week so far! fake dating has forever been one of my favourite tropes ugh the angst opportunities make me feral. this will be a sort of slow chapter as we introduce everything, but i hope you enjoy it!!

nav. masterlist

|| 3:24AM Ryomen Sukuna wants to send you a message

You flinch as your phone buzzes beside you, interrupting your disassociated reading of ‘the fundamentals of journalism’. You opted to ignore the buzz, focusing back in on the page you’d been trying to read for the past fifteen minutes. Your eyes would finally reach the bottom of the page, only to flit back up to the top because you simply couldn’t grasp what you’d been doing wrong. Your research had come to a halt, the football team flat out refusing to be interviewed by you. You knew how you were, how invasive your questions could be, but these were boys who bragged about their conquests to anyone who would listen, embarrassment should not be in their vocabulary.

Another buzz sounded. Then another. And another. You sighed, dog-earring the page and picking your phone up. A request for an instagram dm, and four texts from satoru.

|| Toru🤍: y/n, baby. please kindly look at your instagram dms.

|| Toru🤍: i know you’re not sleeping, check them right now.

|| Toru🤍: sukuna’s trying to dm you can you just answer him pls??

|| Toru🤍: he’s punching me PLEASE read the dm before he damages the money maker too much

You groaned. Ryomen Sukuna. Quite possibly the biggest slut on campus. You’d heard all the stories from Satoru about how Sukuna was making it his mission to fuck every sorority girl from your university. Eugh. You were so thankful that you chose to opt out of the sorority life. But, you loved Satoru, and he loved his face being intact, so over to instagram it was.

|| Ryomen Sukuna: Need a favour, princess.

You’d known Satoru since birth, practically being forced into an arranged friendship by your parents and you kinda happened to like his company. You met the rest of the football team when he inevitably joined a frat. Consisting of only the football team. You were friendly with most of them, probably Suguru most of all. The only one who never really warmed to you was Sukuna. You knew him well enough to know he accepted the extra meal preps you left for the rest of the boys whenever you cooked for Satoru, and that his room directly faced Satoru’s. But that was it.

|| Ryomen Sukuna: I’ll make it worth your while.

You groaned again, eyes rolling into the back of your head. This was the same man who grunted when you greeted him with a smile whenever you were at the frat house. The guy who told Satoru that he can’t always use his plus one invite to the parties on you, mostly because you never turn up.

|| You: you’re coming to me for a favour? you must be really outta options, dude.

It was a strange feeling. Being needed. You knew Satoru needed you. You were the only one who kept him sane when he’s balancing football and physics. But this was a different kind of need. This was practically a stranger needing your help. Huh.

|| Ryomen Sukuna: Fuck you. I need a girlfriend. You wanna do it?

Confused didn’t even begin to cover what you were feeling right now. A girlfriend? Sukuna? Nope. Never gonna happen. And you of all people? Definitely not. You had a feeling Satoru didn’t know, because if he did, Sukuna’s phone would be broken and maybe his nose too.

|| You: the fuck? no, go ask one of your sorority fuck buddies if you’re that desperate. i’m sure their frothing at the mouth for the opportunity.

You went to put your phone down, choosing to ignore the pink-haired quarterback, but he was already typing. Like he was waiting for an answer.

|| Ryomen Sukuna: Real cute, princess. Obviously I don’t want a fuckin real one. Need a fake girlfriend so I can focus on football without thinking about pussy.

Confused again. The Ryomen Sukuna, self-proclaimed football god, needed help to be able to actually play? The situation was laughable actually. You furrowed your brows, the thought crossing your mind for just a second.

|| You: Pass.

You let out a sigh of relief when ten minutes passed and you were still left on read, choosing to turn your phone over, pressing your face into the pillow, and getting your final three hours of sleep you so desperately craved.

taglist: @kyo-kyo1 @kenmacantakemeaway @coldluminarykoala @sukubusss @clp-84 @ieathairs @toratsue @mocha-the-muse @ieathairs @toratsue @mocha-the-muse @livinggxd3adgirl

[kentstoji]

princess!yn: liu kang, you do remember when we agreed we were better off as friends, right?

liu kang, naked in her bed: no, i absolutely do not.

princess!yn, already taking off her clothes: fuck... me neither.

[kikyocaps]

[satosugusandwich]

His Angel and His Brat

Part 1!!! Part 2

Hard!Dom!Geto x Brat!Gojo x obedient!afab!reader

(I also try to write my fics to be racially ambiguous! No mention of skin tone or hair type!)

Summary: Gojo is a mega-brat to y/n and Suguru and likes to push buttons cuz he can so Suguru decides to overstimulate Gojo until he thinks he’s broken. (Key word: thinks.) To add to Gojo’s humiliation, he ensures that the reader is getting princess treatment while watching Gojo suffer endlessly. But, of course, things don’t always go as planned with Satoru Gojo.

CW and whatnots: Overstimulation, vibrators, cuffs, finger sucking, condescending!geto, usage of the word “cock”, gojo’s boundless stamina and cocky attitude, anal play, cum licking (off the floor and gojos pp) praise, cocksucking, angel ass reader that ends up in trouble cuz gojo can’t shut his mouth, geto is actually so mean to gojo but so soft cuz he’s actually a teddy bear dw. Use of “brat, princess, angel.” There will be aftercare in future parts cuz imagine leaving pathetic satoru a cum drenched mess. Poor baby. :(((

There will be additional tags in future parts. This is how I cope with ch 236.

Suguru runs his thumb along your bottom lip, licking his own lips while you whimper. Your pretty eyes fixated on his blushing face and half-lidded eyes. He looks at you with so much lust and is so gentle with you, just so in love with how much you please him and how willing you are to do what he wants. You eagerly await him and his orders, always ready to obey.

But.

“Suguru!”

Satoru’s cry makes his face go from pure admiration to utterly sadistic. “Satoru.” He says, looking at the man to the right of you, the same man that’s panting and whining as the vibrator in his tight hole runs relentlessly. “Jealously doesn’t look very good on you.” He grins and hits a button on the small remote he holds in his hand that isn’t occupied with your mouth.

“Fuck—FUCK!” Satoru’s eyes clench shut, the whirring sound coming from his bottom getting faster and bit more high pitched. You’re grateful you aren’t in his position, you don’t know if you could handle Suguru having full control of how much pleasure you get to feel. Especially if that pleasure is ongoing… and nonstop.

Satoru looked unusually pathetic and… weak. It’s insane to think that the so called strongest sorcerer, the cocky, the arrogant, the man on top, bends to the will of his pretty best friend. Suguru’s change in character comes as a shock too. The sweet, soft-spoken, gentle, and empathetic sorcerer is now grinning down at his partner, showing no mercy, no kindness, and is only sending Satoru into deeper throes of overwhelming pleasure. You almost didn’t want to look at Satoru, what if Suguru surmised you wanted the same treatment. Would he show you mercy?

“Now, now,” Suguru muses, “if you can beg me properly, I’ll stop your torment. And of course you’ll need to apologize to Y/n and I for being such an impatient little shit.” He chuckles softly and withdraws his thumb from your mouth. “She’s being so well-behaved while you whine and whine and cry and cry about how much it is.” He mocks him, furrowing his eyebrows together in a false pity. “I suppose I should expect it, after all, you’ve cum how many times? That pressure against—“ Suguru crouches as he speaks “—your prostate—“ he runs the tip of his fingers up Satoru’s base “—it’s been nonstop for 30 minutes now.”

You can’t help but watch as Suguru’s hand starts to stroke Satoru now, giving expert attention to his neglected yet tortured cock. Suguru notices how you eyeball his actions and can’t help but smile wider.

“Ah, do you feel left out?” His false pity changes back to his gentle expression. “It’s alright, princess, why don’t you show Satoru how impressed you are with his stamina. Give him a little reward?”

Suguru is evil.

“I don’t think he could take it, Sugu.” You answer honestly.

He looks a bit disappointed but he relents his ministrations. “I suppose you’re right. But he still owes us an apology before his punishment ends.”

You nod and meet Satoru’s eyes. He can barely speak as his next orgasm approaches. “I-I’m so—“ his body is shaking. “I’m so sorry! I’ve been so—Suguru—so impatient! Please, I’m so so soo!!! So sorry!” He’s almost in tears now, you can tell Suguru is even beginning to feel pity for his best friend and his brat.

“Ahh… cum one more time and I’ll take it out. Show me you deserve mercy by pleading. Plead for mercy.” Suguru’s fingers tug at your nipples now, clearly losing interest in Satoru’s torment. You know that you aren’t being punished, but seeing Suguru like this… makes you a little weary.

“Please please!” Satoru repeats the word over and over. “I’m so sorry! Please, mercy!” He keeps prattling on, thrusting into the air as he struggles to keep together.

“Y/n.” Suguru looks to you. “Clean up his next mess for me. Lick his cock clean and then it’ll be your turn.”

Satoru starts to mumble and moan out different variations of thank yous and Suguru’s name as he reaches his final high. And when he cums, It’s a mess. Semen spills from his cock and your immediately there to catch it. Suguru’s eyes widen, absolutely loving your eagerness to take his cum down your throat.

“Good boy, good girl.” He pets your head and clicks the toy off, causing Satoru’s to collapse completely, his body weight bearing into the now standing legs of Suguru. He catches his breath, still whimpering as Suguru pets his head. Satoru looks you in the eyes, his beauty keeping your gaze fixated on his body. His six eyes are a little red, probably from the tears that he held back, and his body is flushed beautifully, his pretty cock slowly going soft as he does his best to calm down.

Satoru relaxes back on his knees while Suguru goes behind him to remove the toy from his ass and undo Satoru’s hand cuffs. You breathe a sigh of relief for him, always impressed by Satoru’s unwavering stamina and attitude. You wondered how Satoru enjoyed pissing Geto off so much, does he really enjoy these punishments that much? Suguru seemingly loves the after effects of a good punishment, his adoration of Satoru is evident in the way he kisses his head and gently rubs his back while Satoru regains his strength.

As much as you love watching, you are wondering why Suguru invited you to observe Satoru’s punishment. You’re not really complaining and it definitely isn’t the first time you’ve seen it, but, all you’ve had is a thumb in your mouth and a little bit of cocksucking. After all, Suguru can’t ever stay entirely focused on Satoru, he needs some pleasure himself.

Satoru seems to be wondering the same thing. “So, baby, why did you bring her in to watch?” He asks, rising from his knees to give them a break.

Suguru looks down at you. “Just on a whim.” He strokes your face before looking back toward his brat. “And I’ve noticed you get more worked up with an arousing audience.”

“Well, wouldn’t you if she was licking your cum from the floor?” Satoru grumbled, sitting on the bed.

Suguru turns his attention back toward you. “She does love cum in her mouth.” He strokes himself slowly, catching your attention.

“I want yours next.” You tell him, shifting your weight and sending him a smile.

Satoru watches as you lean forward to lick Suguru’s cock, taking his precum on your tongue. He doubt he could handle anymore cumming, but he certainly loves to see you take cock down your throat. If he had more energy, he’d love to stuff his down as well. “Like it that much, y/n?” He chuckles.

Suguru’s eyes shoot to Satoru. “Jealous again, Satoru?? Well, the question is are you jealous cuz my cock is down her throat or are you jealous cuz it’s not down your throat?”

Satoru sucks his teeth. “I want to watch her take me balls deep.”

Uh oh.

Suguru removes his cock from your mouth. “Satoru,” you start, “I don’t think you have enough energy to keep that attitude up.” Indeed, his stamina is incredible.

Suguru waits to see his reaction.

And of course, the other man grins and only adds fuel to the fire. “Think she’d look better with my cock in her mouth. She’s been paying more attention to me than you anyways.”

“Satoru…” you sigh and in seconds Suguru has him pressed back into the bed and is beckoning for you to get on with him.

Satoru laughs. “Aw, did I bruise your ego, baby? What are you gonna do about it?”

Suguru points to his mouth. “Sit on him to shut him up and I’ll give him a nice view of my cock in your mouth.”

Fuck, that sounds hot. Satoru just grins and motions for you to ride his face, pointing at his eager tongue that’s already out and waiting.

“Y/n, make sure he stays quiet I don’t want to hear him make a single peep. And since he likes being punished so much, I’ll punish you instead if he speaks.”

What?

You blink. Undeniably aroused but a bit scared of his now very evident sadism. “You know he’s going to try to speak now on purpose?” Mercy isn’t exactly his thing right now but you’ll pry at it for sure.

Suguru gives you an evil grin as you lower your weeping pussy onto Satoru’s face. “Then keep his mouth shut.”

[inky-tries-her-best]

A story in two parts

i guess we doin princess OCs now. i need to draw her properly at some point, this is just a doodle I did in class.

Meet the imposter! She's just a real girl! A normal real girl!

I think her voice is skeptic. the second voice would probably depend on a chapter 1 choice. maybe smitten or paranoid, i'm not 100% sure.

She's a stuffed ragdoll and her smile is stitched on so it doesn't change. I wanted her to still be able to emote so her button eyes have cartoon physics. Her anatomy is supposed to be pillowy and wonky at best.

You probably get to her by asking the ch 1 princess every single question imaginable and then expressing even further doubt. i think you get smitten if you decide that in the end it's okay if she makes no sense, you're still freeing her. You get paranoid if you think she makes no sense and leave her in the basement. Something like that, probably.

[roriaa]

When Sun and Moon meet MASTERLIST ⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

Zuko x Fem!WaterBender!Reader Enemies to Lovers

As one of the Princesses of the Northern Water tribe, you were blessed with a gift by the moon. However you were permitted to be allowed to use the gift at all costs. From many hidden waterbending usages, the aftermath of the avatar visiting the Northern Tribe had led to your beginning journey, hiding yourself as a water bender as a princess from the Northern water tribe

All warnings are displayed in each individual chapter

Season 1 - Water

☾ Prologue ☾ Chapter 1 - Welcome Avatar ☾ Chapter 2 - Encountering the Sun ☾ Chapter 3 - Dangerous Gale ☾ Chapter 4 - New Sacrifices

Season 2 - Earth

҉ Chapter 5 - Trainer Sakari ҉ Chapter 6 - Hidden in Ba Sing Se ҉ Chapter 7 - Refreshing Tea ҉ Chapter 8 - Failed ҉ Chapter 9 - Tied with the Gaang ҉ Chapter 10 - Fraud of the Warriors ҉ Chapter 11 - Trust to Betrayal

Season 3 - Fire

𖤓 Chapter 12 - Ship Attack 𖤓 Chapter 13 - First steps in the Fire Nation 𖤓 Chapter 14 - Sparky-Sparky Boom Man!! 𖤓 Chapter 15 - The Invasion 𖤓 Ch 16 𖤓 Ch 17 𖤓 Ch 18 𖤓 Ch 19 𖤓 Ch 20 𖤓 Ch 21

Season 4 - Sun

☪︎ Ch ???

Aftermath - Moon

⋆ Ch ???

POSTS ONCE EVERY WEEK (MOSTLY) None of the pictures are made by me This is based off of the avatar the last airbender world s1 s2 s3 potentially will add the legend of Korra sneaks Please do not copy, translate or repost my writing. Reblogging is acceptable My work is ONLY on tumblr, ao3, and wattpad. If anywhere else please inform me. Ao3 link Wattpad link