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ffsg0jo · 3 months ago

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warnings: fem reader, insecure reader, chubby reader, drinking, self-deprecating thoughts, really awkward flirting, aizawa is whipped and doesnt know how to act, not proofread - inspired by this post by @/mintmatcha

fics for gaza commissions

They're laughing again.

The guys sat at the table across the room, kept glancing over in your direction, only to immediately look away when you noticed, going back to tittering amongst themselves.

They're laughing at you.

Your cheeks heat up, and you pointedly try not to look sideways in their direction, but the self-sabotaging part of your brain keeps urging you to look back. To make you suffer even more.

Staring at your drink, you try to take your mind off it by focusing on your friend's story; her words are drowned out by a sharp laugh, joined by more and loud clapping sounds.

Suddenly, everyone's laughing, and you can't breathe. The tight-fitting dress you're wearing is torturous, and your hands itched to rip it off. Why did you choose something that clung to you like a second skin? You wanted to unzip yourself out of the dress and out of your body, too.

Eyes catching onto your phone, you see your reflection on the screen, and you hated your friends. You felt bitter at the fact that they let you, encouraged you even, to go out wearing such a tight dress.

They convinced you it highlighted your 'curves' and brought out your features and that you looked good. And you felt good too, before you stepped into the club and felt their stares and heard their laughter.

(There's a small part of your brain telling you they did it on purpose.)

The laughter plateaus, and you realise your friend has stopped talking. You follow her eyes to see her looking past you, to the man that's just sat down on the barstool beside you.

Your breath hitches at his rugged beauty, his dark shaggy hair and somewhat scruffy stubble. You look away when he catches your eyes, but not before he shoots you a smirk over the rim of his glass.

Shame curls into your stomach and settles deep within your gut.

Your friend beside you slightly nudges you, whispering at you to make conversation with the man. 'He's so clearly into you'. In response to her words, you only let out a small laugh, shaking your head and fiddling with your fingers.

The man next to you finishes off his drink in one go and then leans into your field of vision.

"Can I buy you a drink?" He says, his voice tugging at the shame in your gut. Had you looked up at him a second earlier, you would've noticed the way his eyes hungrily ran over your body, having to finish his drink for some courage.

You figured it was some kind of joke, or he was just trying to get you to introduce him to your friend. There's no way a man like him would want someone like you.

You hesitated, and your friend jumped in for you.

"She'd love one," she said loudly, facing him with a smile. Your friend throws you a wink and then leaves you at the bar to go dance with your other friends. You so desperately wanted her to come back.

The man returns his gaze to you once more and frowns, noticing the look on your face.

"Do you want me to introduce you to her?" You asked him, disheartened, misunderstanding his frown. You expected this, even though every fibre of your body so badly wanted him to be interested in you. You knew it was unlikely.

"No, I was hoping to get to know you and buy you a drink. But if I'm making you uncomfortable, I can leave?"

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. He seemed sincere, but something in the back of your head was nagging at you, telling you he's lying and he's mocking you.

Ignoring the voice you decided to be brave.

"No it's fine, I'd love a drink."

The man smiles slightly and calls a bartender over. You both wait in a slightly uncomfortable silence for your drinks.

"Oh shit, Aizawa," he says, breaking the silence suddenly as your eyes snap to look at him. "My name." He adds on sheepishly.

Now that you've calmed down a little, you realise he looks nervous, a blush colouring his cheeks at his little outburst. You smile at him more sincerely, giving him your name.

Aizawa tastes your name on his tongue, repeating it out loud, and your body flushes the shame and insecurity out. You both go quiet once more, the silence a lot more comfortable this time.

"I'm sorry," he says, holding his drink that was placed down in front of him moments ago. "I haven't done this in a while, and not with anyone as beautiful as you."

You pause, not knowing what to say, and as you open your mouth to say something, anything, he speaks again.

"Your dress is gorgeous, by the way. I like it a lot. I like you a lot."

A slight laugh escapes your lips, and your face heats up once more, only this time the thoughts in your head remain silent.

"I uhh, like your hair. A lot. And your shoes are nice," you don't know why you added that last part. You didn't even see what shoes Aizawa was wearing. It was as though your brain disconnected from your mouth at his compliment, and any nonsense started coming out.

Aizawa breathes out a laugh and leans closer to you. You feel his breath fan your face, and you wonder what his stubble would feel like against your cheeks, your neck, your stomach, and-

"I know a place not too far from here. They have really good kebabs, do you wanna join me?" He asks, wondering if it's too soon.

It'd only been 10 or 15 minutes since he had sat next to you, but you were itching to get out of the bar. You nodded immediately, grateful for the out. A smile graces your face. You had a good feeling about Aizawa.

Your stomach rumbled, and you both laughed. A kebab sounded good right about now.

(Aizawa was somewhat in disbelief that you, an angel, had wanted to go out with him. He moved off his chair and held his hand out to you, holding your hand in his as you both moved to the exit.

The bartender, however, stops him, calling out after him, telling him he forgot to pay his tab. Aizawa looks at you sheepishly and tells you to wait outside. He walks back in shame, apologising to the bartender, and pays for his drinks.

Coming back to your side, he gently takes hold of your your hand. You both look at eachother for a couple of seconds, you trying to stifle laughter at what just occurred.

Laughter filled the air as you walked to the kebab shop.)

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silkscream · 3 months ago

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bullfight of love

ੈ✩ choso x reader

ੈ✩ tags: flirting, masturbation, porn watching, vaginal sex, riding, soft sub!choso, 2000s au, coworkers, workplace relationship, film bro stuff

ੈ✩ wc: 4.7k

ੈ✩ a/n: i wanted to write choso being a weirdofreak pervert boy that's all. this is part of my fics for gaza <3 there will be a part two for this. do not ask me about a part two because it's already being made

Maki could kill you for being late again. Five missed texts, the final exaggerated with periods and exclamation points – and she never used proper spelling, let alone punctuation. It wasn't serious the way she made it out to be.

Toji never cared about your track record. The bastard was never in the shop anyway, probably high off his ass in whatever shed of a place he lived in. Maki already hated her cousin enough for the rest of the crew, running that stupid video store like it was a real family business. It was a summer job to you and nothing else.

She sighs when she sees you walk through the door, handing you your name tag without a word before fucking off to the storage room to look at the new shipments.

“Don’t give me the silent treatment!” you yell after her. In response, you only get a middle finger, chipped black nail polish with half a skeleton decal hanging on.

It’s always slow on Mondays. Considering the new cinema that opened across the street, it's slow every day. You should’ve taken a job there, scooping buckets of buttered popcorn instead of telling off porn-stached men who continually mistook the shop as the old adult video store.

You mindlessly watch Reservoir Dogs on the CRTV, shaken by the sudden flood of middle school students paving their way to the used video game section. Fumbling with the remote, you meet a hard-faced Maki once again.

“You can’t put on Tarantino, dude. Kids are in here.”

“It was already on,” you shrug.

Maki rolls her eyes and points to a small stack by the register – some John Hughes VHS tapes. Sixteen Candles. The Breakfast Club. Most shit that both of you hated.

“Gotcha.”

“Can you deal with the new kid, today? Toji didn’t scan all the new shit in like he was supposed to last week.”

“New kid?”

“Uh, yeah. Goth-ish. Like he got spit out of a Hot Topic or something,” she snorts. “No hazing.”

“I should be saying that to you.”

She scoffs at you before rushing back. You’d had a crush on her when you started working there, back when she still had an eyebrow piercing before she let it get infected. She had that Silent Hill look about her for lack of better words. Resting bitch face with a raspy pout.

Your head swims a little, pounding from dehydration. The morning joint didn’t help, either, nor did the fact that you had to train a newbie today.

It’s quiet after the kids leave, snatching up some forbidden R-rated movie that’ll traumatize them during a basement sleepover. You nearly doze off once the clock hits three, but loud footsteps bring you back to life.

A boy that couldn’t be much older than you stares into you, narrowed eyes boring into your soul. You see the dark birthmark across his nose first, as if someone had slashed him with a blade in one straight swoop. He smells like cigarettes and his eyes are decorated with some reddish eyeshadow. Either that or he had the complexion of a sickly Victorian child.

“Hey,” you deadpan. “Can I help you?”

“I’m the new hire,” he says. His voice is low. He reminds you of the goths that would hit on you at high school parties. He's prettier, though.

You give him a once-over quickly – he’s taller than you expect, for some reason, and you notice the blooming swirls of abstract tattoos peeking from beneath his sleeves.

“You don’t sound so sure about that,” you smirk.

He rolls his eyes and introduces himself. Choso. You repeat his name, tasting it on your tongue. He has half a mind to shake your hand but pulls away awkwardly. You take note of the silver rings adorning his fingers.

You tilt your head. “I like your, uh, space buns…”

“Uh, thanks,” he narrows his eyes.

“Okay, so… have you ever used a cash register?”

“Yes.”

“Great. That’s basically half the job.”

You show him the ropes – how to make sales and deal with teens. Cash drops and tracking inventory. You ask him what attracted him to the idea of working at a run-down video store and he says he likes movies and easy money. His brother liked the place, too.

“You got the Human Earthworm series, boss?” he drones, bored.

“Yeah, think so. You like romance-horror or just terrible practical effects?”

He snorts. “My little brother likes it. Wants to have a marathon with me.”

“Cute.”

Hours pass and he’s gotten the hang of it. If anything, there are more customers than usual today, because you suppose that Choso is conspicuous in appearance and the teenage girls that hang around at the food court need something new to play with.

It stirs something uneasy in your gut, the waft of saccharine perfume in the air. Girls with tongue piercings, lollipops staining their lips as they bend over the counter to talk to Choso. Ripe girls.

They probably thought he could buy them alcohol, take them for a joyride. He’d only offer them an aloof, blank stare in return. It makes you almost giddy. By the time night comes around, you tell them to fuck off like flies.

“Closing time.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Choso mock-salutes, an amused smirk on his lips. Half-lidded eyes like a cat, maybe a stoner, though he didn’t smell like it. You saw him on his break anyway, sipping down an Asahi Super Dry in the back as if you weren’t looking.

He already knew his place, knew that you wouldn’t rat him out. It was the way something flickered in his eyes when you caught him. A taunt, a quiet challenge.

You watch him count cash. Chipped black fingernails looked odd on his veiny hands like they were painted in a rush by a child. You notice scrawled pen on his pale skin. Smudged phone numbers.

“Getting hit on already?”

He glances at you and shrugs, hiding a smile. “Half were just from bored teenagers. Other half bored single mothers.”

“Any takers?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know.”

You narrow your eyes.

“Ha. Don’t be jealous.”

“I’m not,” you snort. “As long as we get customers I guess.”

“Oof. You’re cold. You don’t care how I get these people to buy these movies as long as they buy ‘em, huh?”

“You’re not whoring yourself out by being a cashier. Relax.”

He shrugs on his jacket. Crumpled leather, the kind that held the smell of smoke over generations. It made him look like Takuya Kimura in that way, maybe if his hair was down.

He grins when he finds you staring.

“We done for the night, then, boss?”

You roll your eyes at the nickname. “Uh-huh. Night, newbie.”

He smiles sardonically, looking out and noticing the rain. He curses inwardly, knowing that skating home would be a bitch, and the next bus to his side of town wasn’t for another half hour. He clears his throat.

“Leaving already?”

“Yeah. What, don’t have a ride home, kiddo?”

“Fuck off. I’m not a damn kid. I’m just not someone with a car,” Choso mutters dryly. “I work at a movie rental place for a living. I take the bus everywhere.”

“Sucks to suck then,” you smirk, saluting him goodbye. You throw him the keys. “I trust you to lock up then, yeah? See ya.”

He lets out a frustrated scoff but doesn’t bother to convince you, opting to watch you go. Once you’re out of reach, he sighs and turns, shoving his hands into his pockets and looking around the dim store.

Yuuji was probably out with that sea urchin–haired punk again. He had to remind himself to save up for a car instead of constantly having to share their parents’ beat-up Toyota.

He could take advantage of the shitty TV in the office, maybe. Watch a stupid re-run while he waits, because he sure as hell isn’t going to wait out in the rain. He walks in and settles on the black leather couch straight out of an amateur porno. He snorts and looks through a fat stack of DVDs in the corner.

His mouth twists when he picks up something with a racy title. His eyes widen when he realizes it’s an adult film.

“Holy shit,” he mutters, scoffing. He lets out a low whistle, glancing around the office as if someone’s out there, ready to jump him. It’s eerily quiet. He can’t even hear the pitter-patter of rain from in here.

He skims the back cover. It looks crude, but Choso has never really been one to turn down something raunchy. He liked stupid movies, gory ones, art films with weird unsimulated sex. He’d gotten off to In the Realm of the Senses when he was thirteen. Skimming through something this cheap shouldn’t hurt. It wouldn’t arouse him — it would be as entertaining and silly as watching a sitcom for him.

He inserts the disc into the DVD player and waits for it to load. There are no cameras in the office, he notices. Figures. The way you talked about the owner made it seem like the place was barely being held together if not for you.

And then, he thinks of you. He immediately thought you were pretty, not that he’d ever let you know that. Plainer than his usual type, but something was alluring about the curve of your mouth, the way you spoke. He liked that you didn’t take shit most of all. It was probably the hottest thing about you.

He knew better than to fuck around with a coworker, however. It never ended well and resulted in petty drama. He was too old for that shit, wasn’t in high school anymore — he was a man.

When the intro to the film finally loads, a woman in a skimpy, barely-there dress appears on the screen. It’s something vintage, for sure, given the grain. She’s in a love hotel.

Choso fast-forwards through blurs of messy kissing, colored lights illuminating a heart-shaped tub. He pauses on a frame of the girl riding, her mouth wide open in ecstasy. He presses play.

After about ten minutes, he finds himself in a trance watching with rapt attention at the way the actress moves. His cock twitches when he realizes that she looks a little too much like you.

She moans particularly loudly and his mouth parts. Something snaps inside of him.

He has to pause it again. Jesus.

Choso feels like a pervert. No, he’s a man with urges, needs. It’s a pure coincidence that the actress in the porno looks like you of all people. It’s not like he sought her out himself. A movie like this shouldn’t even be in here.

He grits his teeth, hands clenching around the couch leather until his knuckles are white. He takes a breath before pressing play again and his eyes widen when the girl gets even louder.

Ah, fuck it.

He mutters under his breath, shifting on the couch. Glances at the blowjob lips on the screen, soft and plush. He thinks of you and swallows. He bites his cheek, conflicted.

Maybe he shouldn’t.

Then again, no one has to know.

He lets out a shaky exhale, trying to resist the pressure building inside him. It feels like trying to contain a geyser with a cup, and he hasn’t even touched himself yet.

After contemplating for a beat, he sighs and unbuttons the fly of his jeans, using his other hand to press play again. A gasp escapes his lips as he watches the girl on the screen. The curve of her back, the bounce of her tits. She looks soft. He wonders if you’d be as —

No. No. He’s not doing that.

He spits in his hand and strokes himself, his breathing starting to come out in short, uneven pants. There’s a rush of heat in his gut as he watches. His head tilts back slightly, eyes roaming the ceiling before closing them as he attempts to calm himself down. It’s no use.

His breath hitches, eyes glued to the screen. He’s memorized by the slick flowing out of her. Fuck, he hasn’t gotten laid in a long time. It’s killing him.

It’d be okay if he pretended it was you. It’s not like you would find out. He could imagine fucking your face the way the guy was doing right now in the video, making the bitch gag and moan. Whimpering at being called a good girl.

“Oh, god–” he mutters, his voice a strangled gasp. She really did look like you. Disturbingly so. When he’s done, he’ll have to wash his hands for five minutes straight from the shame.

He pants, his grip on himself firm as he squeezes his shaft. Precum smears over his tip and he groans at the sound of the woman’s whimpers getting louder and louder. It makes his lungs seize. He’s getting close.

He doesn’t even register the jingling of the doorknob.

Choso’s head jerks up, his eyes widening in shock as his head turns to see you in the doorway blinking at him.

“Oh.”

His throat’s dry. What a cruel fucking joke from the universe. There’s no coming back from this. Not when the video’s still going and he’s still half dressed, hand on his fly in mortification.

You tilt your head, smirking. “Nice cock.”

Choso’s at a loss for words, staring at you with embarrassment and utter daze. What the fuck?

“I, uh…” he chokes out, his voice rough and more high-pitched than usual. Face burning.

He’s going to get fired. No – he has to quit before you even get another word in, save the little dignity he has, maybe convince Yuuji to move to another shitty town with him so he never has to see you again —

“Forgot my wallet,” you say, snapping him out of his thoughts.

You walk into the room, peering at him. Your eyes fall on the TV, which is still going. The moans feel cheap and tacky now that he’s back in reality.

Choso scrambles to press the stop button on the remote, his other hand moving to put a pillow on top of his leaking dick. His eyes flicker wildly between your face and the screen.

“You find that in here?”

“Uh… yeah… I, um—”

You snort. “Forgot to tell you that this used to be an adult video store.”

“That explains the selection,” he mutters sheepishly.

You eye him carefully. He blushes. “Didn’t finish?” you taunt.

He feels too fucking humiliated to say anything, so he mutely nods instead. He fumbles with the zipper of his jeans underneath the pillow.

“Need some help?”

He gapes at you for a moment before looking away. You look amused as you scan his face. Was he hearing you correctly? Was he dreaming?

“Are you— are you offering?” he gasps out, dumbfounded.

“Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve done something like that in here.”

Choso’s jaw drops.

He stares at you for a moment at a loss for words. Curiosity begins to win out over embarrassment.

“With… who?”

“None of your business,” you chuckle.

He doesn’t like that answer. His jaw clenches, knowing that it’s stupid that it hurts his ego a bit for no reason at all. It doesn’t matter. He doesn’t press the issue as his gears turn back to your previous offer.

“Then you… uh… want to…? With me?”

“You want to, right?”

He swallows nervously, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. He looks at your body shamelessly for a bit. He’s still so fucking hard. Finally, he nods shyly.

“Okay. Take your clothes off, then.”

For a moment, he wants to protest. This is the last thing he expects from you. Maybe it was a blackmail situation — if he doesn’t let you fuck him, would you fire him?

He realizes that he doesn’t care either way if he gets to fuck you.

He pushes his jeans down with his boxer briefs, shoves the pillow in his lap away with a blush. Slowly, he strips off his t-shirt, leaving him completely exposed. He can feel your gaze on him, raking his chest and arms, the tattoos on his skin. He looks up at you again almost desperately.

“I meant it,” you drawl. “You do have a nice cock.”

“Th-thanks…” he croaks.

“Why so nervous?” you tease. “You were flirting with me all day.”

“Yeah, but–” he mutters, huffing defensively. “I didn’t think you’d actually—”

“Wanna fuck you?” you finish for him.

You say it so bluntly that it catches him off guard. He hadn’t really given it too much thought. You were somewhat receptive to his advances if he could call it that. It was mostly him being himself. His sarcasm was meant to be flirting, but none of it was that serious. He found you hot and interesting. He liked that you could keep up with him.

When he started touching himself with you in mind, everything was thrown out the window. He wanted you, and would probably dream about you when he got home, but the guilt and shame of doing something so depraved in his place of work made him embarrassed. He wouldn’t have been able to face you on his next shift, and then you decided to barge in and ruin everything.

And now, you’re offering yourself to him on a silver platter. It was absurd.

He narrows his eyes. “What’s in it for you?”

“I think you’re hot. Isn’t that enough?”

“You… you actually wanna… uh–”

“Yeah, Choso,” you roll your eyes. “I wanna fuck you.”

He shifts on the couch, eyes roaming hungrily over your body as his breaths grow labored. He swallows a lump in his throat.

“Then… do it,” he mumbles.

You grin, moving to straddle his lap. His hands flex and he has to remember to not appear so eager. This is just a casual hookup with a coworker. One born out of bizarre circumstances, sure, but he needs to play it cool. He grips the edge of the couch.

“Don’t wanna touch me?”

He feels even more meek, if that was possible. He hesitates, throat bobbing as he swallows. He’d had girls in his lap before. Bouncing them on his cock until they cried. For some reason, he feels like the submissive one here just because you’re on top of him.

“Uh,” he stammers. His voice is quiet, nervous. You think it’s cute. “I didn’t know if I was, uh, allowed to—”

“Go ahead.”

He holds back from kissing you. Instead, he smoothes his large hands over your hips, the curve of your waist. He lifts his hands to the edge of your shirt and hooks his fingers into the hem, slowly tugging it upwards. The reveal of skin is tantalizing, makes his mouth water like a man stranded in a desert.

Sparks jolt the length of his spine as his fingers brush over the bare skin of your stomach. Fuck, you’re soft. He knew you would be. He pulls the shirt over your head and ogles stupidly at your chest.

“Someone’s worked up,” you tease, playing with his hair. You undo his buns, leaving his hair down.

“Of course I am,” he mutters, his voice strained. “You’re sitting on my lap, looking like that—”

“Can I kiss you?”

His eyes widen.

“Please,” he breathes. It almost comes out like a desperate whine. “I mean— yeah—”

You raise a brow, laughing. It makes his face heat up down to his neck.

“Begging already? Thought you’d be more of a dominant type.”

You’ve thought about me?

“I— I am,” he grumbles.

“Uh-huh. I’ll let you prove it later.” You lean in.

“Promise?” He looks at you with something eager in his gaze and your eyes soften.

“Mhm.”

Finally, he captures your lips with his. You sigh into it and it makes his cock throb underneath you. He takes that as an invitation, his tongue immediately pushing past the plush of your lips. He reaches up to grab the back of your head and tangles his fingers in your hair as if he’s done it all before. It makes you moan a little in his mouth.

He moans back, pulling you flush against the hard planes of his chest. You pull back slightly, leaving him to chase your lips for a moment as he lets out a small huff of protest. When you look at him, his eyes are half-lidded, lips slightly parted and shiny with spit.

“You’re pretty,” you say without thinking. “Real pretty.”

He flushes, unable to form words. His expression immediately floods with disappointment when you get off his lap to stand.

“Where are you going?” His voice would be whiny if it wasn’t so gruff from desire.

“Relax, idiot.” You unbutton your pants, sliding them down slowly. He assumes you’re teasing him, which he doesn’t particularly mind. You’re a sight to behold. His cock twitches as his eyes look at your smooth thighs.

“Get over here,” he huffs. You laugh, moving to straddle him.

He doesn’t have time to react before you lean in to immediately nip at his neck. He lets out a moan, hips bucking involuntarily. You can feel his pulse quickening, the vibration of his moans underneath your lips.

“Fuck,” he gasps. His fingernails dig into the meat of your waist.

He can’t stay still. It takes him everything in him to not rock his hips up into you. It doesn’t help that he can already feel your wet heat hovering over his cock. His brain nearly short-circuits. He preens under you, grabbing at you like you’re going to fly away.

“Be patient. Wanna play with you first,” you mumble.

Choso’s eyes flutter closed as you speak. You sound so fucking sexy right now, he can’t stand it. It’s better than the stupid filler plot he scrubbed through in that damn porno. Miles better.

“Play with me,” he grits. “Fuck — later.”

“Oh, yeah. Forgot you were pregaming this before I walked in.”

He glares at you. It’s entertaining watching the expression melt off his face when you lift your hips and immediately slam down on him. The moan he lets out is guttural. His hands immediately find your hips.

“Hah – fuck,” you breathe. “You’re bigger than you look.”

Choso lets out a strangled chuckle, head falling back on the couch. It makes him look even hotter, the way his tattoos flex with his collarbone.

“Told you I wasn’t a kid.”

Your laugh tapers off into a moan when he gives a small, tentative roll of his hips. Testing the waters. You’re so fucking tight that it’s making it hard for him to even think. When he hears you gasp at being filled by him completely, his eyes widen.

“Shit,” he gasps. “Wanna make you do that again—”

“H-Huh?”

His eyes lock on your face as he grins, grinding into you slowly.

“That noise–” he groans, his throat taut and dry. “You made this little gasp—”

“Ah–”

“There it is,” he snickers. His eyes gleam. “Just like that.”

Your eyes roll back, mirroring the roll of his cock inside you. Your cunt clenches around him and it feels like fucking heaven. He can feel all your wetness drool into his lap. He had the urge to push you into the leather, cant his hips up like something rabid.

It feels like his brain was going to fall out of his nose, the head rush in tandem with the blood pumping into his cock. Impossible tightness. Snug cunt, petals closing into a bud.

When you wrap your arms around him, it almost feels romantic. It’s dangerous.

He kisses you, then. Quivers when he feels you getting lost in it, tasting nicotine in your swapped spit. He whimpers as you start to move your hips with more intention. You smile wryly at his reaction, pulling away, eyes fixed on where your bodies meet.

You’re a fucking wet dream while you’re riding him. The way your hair brushes messily over your jawline, the way your mouth parts with a gasp every time he feels you pulsate on his cock. Choso grabs your ass greedily and kneads it, mesmerized at the softness of your flesh.

“God, you look so fucking good right now—”

His eyes flash as he watches you move. He tries to match your tempo, rutting up into you with frenzied effort. His cheeks are flushed as he nearly unravels himself for you, his expression raw and hungry. He leans in to suck on your tongue, descending his wet mouth down to your jaw, your tits. Oral fixation.

You can feel him deep in your stomach, buried in you. It’s as if he could pierce you through the throat. You’re sure that you’ll ache everywhere by the time you get home. You’d never taken a cock quite this big, never been this wet, your insides swirling around like a washing machine. Your guts all muddled with something that felt too warm for just lust.

“So fucking hot,” he mumbles, hands pressing into your bare thighs.

All his preoccupations with you had disappeared. He didn’t care if you thought he was a pervert, since you were one too, in a way. Letting him fuck you like this when he barely knew you at all, yet a repressed part of his brain made his heart flutter at the thought of you. It didn’t help that he could practically feel your heartbeat with his cock.

It isn’t romance — it has to be the sex. He can’t think about it too much right now. Not when he’s in a state of delirium inside your cunt.

“Choso, I’m close,” you whine.

“Yeah?” he rasps. “Fuck, me too.”

His hair is tousled and sticky. Eyes glazed, chest rising and falling rapidly.

He grabs at your hips, guiding them to grind on him faster. Your wetness makes it all so smooth — all buttery, no resistance. You feel full.

He feels like he’s being squeezed to death, to heaven. It sends him over the edge at the same time he feels your pussy clench around him. You tremble in waves as you gasp out a moan. It’s more like a choked breath. He can’t stop watching you as you come, the way your eyes roll back.

A whine escapes his throat as he cums. Everything that seeps out is slick, feels like something new and primordial at once. Seraphic, he’d say, if he happened to be drunk. He certainly feels drunk.

Choso doesn’t expect you to kiss him so sweetly after such a vulgar affair. He lets out a long exhale into your mouth with eyes closed, letting his head fall back a little while your hands cup his cheeks. His body is all melted limbs, languid sex.

“Jesus,” he mutters.

“Hey.”

He opens his eyes and gazes at you through sleepy lids. He lifts a hand lazily, brushing the hair away from your face.

“Yeah?”

“Did you pick an actress that looked like me on purpose?”

He freezes. His hands tighten around your waist as he looks away.

“No,” he scoffs. “Just thought she was hot—”

You chuckle.

“I didn’t pick it, I found it,” he gruffs. “I’ll admit that… she looks like you… I guess.”

“Was I as good?”

He scoffs again, his eyes flashing with a mix of playfulness and irritation. You were as much of a little shit as he was.

“You’re better,” he rolls his eyes. “I already told you what I think, dumbass. Real pretty.”

“Oh, did you?”

There’s a hint of a smirk playing at the corners of his lips. “I’d be pretty pissed if you weren’t better than some stupid video—”

“Idiot. Those girls are probably like, Olympians at fucking. Porn isn’t like real sex anyway.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” he grins. He pauses for a moment, suddenly looking timid. “It’s just… a decent placeholder for when I… y’know.”

“Just call me next time.”

Choso’s eyes widen slightly, unable to hide his surprise. He sputters for a second.

“What? I’m, uh— not gonna call you every time I—” he groans, “That’ll be way too many times.”

You raise a brow.

“Wait, no— that came out wrong. I’m not some horny freak or something—”

“I mean, given how I found you…”

“That’s—” he stammers, unable to complete a sentence without his brain completely blacking out every millisecond. “That was a one-time thing.”

“Hope so. I don’t wanna fire you, newbie,” you grin.

His pulse quickens at your smile.

“Like hell, you will. You’re too understaffed to fire me.”

PART TWO

#choso kamo #choso smut #choso x reader #choso x you #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #ree.writing

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just-some-random-blogger · 5 months ago

Text

Brat Hours

You dramatically react to an issue involving your friends and so Billionaire Entrepreneur, Lanniscorp CEO Tywin Lannister takes your phone, makes you an offer that makes you panic, then fucks your panic away.

Modern!Tywin Lannister x Reader | 5k+ | cw: fem!reader, crack fic kinda, implied sugar daddy/sugar baby dynamic, age difference, pwp tbh, smut (bdsm, brat/brat tamer, daddy kink, degradation kink, bondage [belt], teasing, edging, fingering, piv, mild spit kink, dumbification kinda, breeding kink, cockwarming, biting, marking), fluff, etc.

A/N: im so down bad for this old man that the plot ends at 1k 😀 cross posted on ao3. Please consider donating €5 to Rital's GoFundMe, so that she and her family can evacuate Gaza.

Tagging: @ceoofyearning sabi mo tag kita wag mo ko block

Tywin Lannister lifts his gaze from his computer screen, eyes narrowing at the sight across the room. His desk is positioned in front of a window that looked out to the large expanse of the Casterly Rock estate. Directly in front of him, laid upon his massive bed, there, I sprawled, squealing into a pillow, wallowing in the velvety sheets.

He leans back into his leather office chair, stretching out an arm. He rests his palm on his oak desk, "will I be hounded for concert tickets to some smelly half-wit vocalist's concert again?"

His stubbly jaw clenches as he awaits a reply. He gets none.

I throw my phone onto the pillows and stand. I start pacing around the bed.

Tywin calls my name.

It does not register. I jump back into the sheets and continue to scroll on my phone. After I yelp and sit up, I flinch when he calls my name sternly.

Tywin shakes his head and sighs. He raises a hand and beckons me over with two fingers.

I chew my lower lip and rub my thighs. My skin is cool to the touch, as I only had booty shorts and an old band tee of The White Walkers on. Tywin hated it.

I sluggishly walk over to him, dread lumping in my stomach as I take in the old man's expression. "I didn't do anything wrong," I pipe up.

Tywin turns his chair to the side, anticipating my arrival. He spreads his legs, giving me perfect view of his well-ironed, grey dress pants. He opens his arms out for me, and I gratefully take my seat on his lap, my bum on one thigh and my legs in the middle of his. He links his hands together, resting them on my hip bone, "then who would cause a troublemaker so much trouble?"

I drop my head and peer up at him through my lashes, unable to fully meet his gaze knowing what I would have to say to him.

I nestle my face into his neck. One hand sneaks its way around his back, the other fondles with his white dress shirt. I undo two buttons as I take in his rich, earthy scent.

Immediately, he understands what is happening, "speak, girl, even if it's petty."

"But it's hella petty."

Tywin sighs and tries to look at my face. He cannot, so he instead turns his chair back to his computer and pulls us closer to his desk, "I cannot help you if you do not tell me what ails you."

I scowl when his hands leave me to go back to typing on his keyboard. I pull away from the comfort of his shoulder to show him my displeasure.

He ignores me.

My pout exaggerates, "nooooooo."

"No?" he spares me a raised eyebrow, "so you want my attention?"

I furrow my brows and cross my arms, "no."

"Funny," he looks back at his computer, "I was certain you'd sooner perish than be rid of it."

I sound off, offended and annoyed.

He clicks on his mouse, then scrolls through his emails.

I shoot him a nasty look.

He mumbles whilst reading the text on his computer screen, momentarily making a face because of whatever he reads.

My annoyance festers.

He begins to type his response.

I grumble, "Tywin."

He continues typing.

"Tywin," I groan and whine, "I want your attention."

He leans back on his chair again, hands coming down to his armrest. We stare at each other for a moment, I knew, because he was waiting for me to take it down a notch. He tilts head, "sit properly then, girl."

I make an annoyed sound, tightening my lips.

Tywin acknowledges the challenge and simply squashes it, "will you really make me repeat myself?"

I scoff, "I don't even like sitting on your lap."

He chuckles, deep and gutteral, annoyed and amused at once. It makes my stomach do flips. He motions with his pointer, "then get off."

I growl and straddle his lap, sitting on him 'properly'. I wrap my arms around him and nuzzle back into his neck, "stop telling my what to fucking do."

He nostrils flare. His thorax emits a low hum. He scratches his nails on my back then digs one hand into the roots of my hair. He tugs my head back, forcing me to turn to him, "watch your mouth, else I'll put it to good use-"

"Try me-"

"-I'll make you record the Lannister jingle for me."

My eye twitches. I pull away and sit up straight.

His expression shifts, knowing how much I fucking loathe his company's stupid-ass jingle. My lips curl in disgust, "yuck, the fu-- the... heck."

Tywin's lips curl slightly upward. His one hand rests on the curve of my bum, the other rests on my cheek. He swipes my lips with his thumb then brings that hand opposite the other, "filthy girl."

I scowl again.

He leans on his headrest and shakes his head, "will you speak, or shall I return to Mr. Baelish and his Vale proposal?"

My brows relax at the mention, "he's proposing something in the Vale?"

"Mmm. Undoubtedly a plot to get a promotion," he says, swiveling to reach out for his keyboard.

I swat his hand and place it back in my side.

Tywin looks back at me.

I growl and brush my hair back in annoyance. With a deep sigh, I cross my arms, looking down at my lap. I feel him looking at me, so I toy with his belt to distract myself from his scorching gaze.

He does not appreciate it, "behave."

"I ammmm."

He does not respond.

I sigh again and finally look up at him, "you know that show I watch?"

He places his hands on my thighs, his large, warm palm heats up the area, "the ghastly one about looney blondes?"

"Mmm."

"Yes. Are they finally cancelling it?"

I turn to his chest and trace the opening of his shirt with my fingers, "opposite actually. They renewed it and my moots are killing each other."

I look up at him when he does not respond.

"Online friends," I correct and drop my hand.

He furrows his brows, "so? Let them die."

I inhale deeply, "Tywin-"

"No," he raises a finger, "I understand these online friends of yours mean something to you, but if they are causing you to scream and roll around the bed over an idiotic programme, then you're more simple minded than you've let on."

I scoff, "why not just call me a slur?"

He slips a hand underneath my shirt, rubbing my sides, "I will never understand why such an exquisite creature finds such entertainment in something so dull anyway."

"Hey, it's not that bad, plus I'm only watching the show for Smith Matthews."

He hums, "and what shall we do with the people vexing you over that show?"

"They're not vexing me, they're destroying themselves over opinions on fictional characters and started bringing personal agendas into it."

Tywin watches as a line forms between my brows.

"It's seriously making me anxious because, oh my gosh, it's not that deep," I sigh, resting my hands on his shoulder.

He stares at me for a moment, "show me."

Without another word, I stand up, get my phone from the bed, and sit back down on him. I open my app and begin to drone about the details of the drama.

"Which user is doing this again?"

I show him my screen and he takes my phone, staring at my following list as I explain what happened, "--and then she was like, 'no fucking way' then posted this whole-ass thing about-"

"I've blocked them," he hands me back my phone.

My soul escapes me, "w h a t?"

"I believe the feature was created precisely for moments like thi-"

"DID YOU ACTUALLY?!" I gasp, "OH MY GODS, OH MY GODS--"

Tywin watches as I frantically look through my phone. My expression drops and my heart races as I swipe the screen, seeing that I, in fact, was now following significantly less people. I frantically unblock them.

"TYWIN, YOU BLOCKED PEOPLE NOT EVEN PART OF THE-"

"Enough!" he grabs my phone and chucks it onto his desk.

I stare at him and clench my jaw. My adrenaline is pumping, and so I take it out on his arms, squeezing his biceps until he groans and grabs my hands.

"Your calamity is imagined," he mutters. He rubs my shoulders, "do not waste your time on people you'll not even meet."

"IT'S NOT IMAGINED!" I shake my hands, "IT'S REAL TO ME!"

He flinches at my shriek. He releases me and sighs.

"You can't just do stuff like that!" I whine, feeling my eyes water, "this is like if I went through your emails and deleted the ones that annoyed you."

He purses his lips. He takes a moment before sighing his response, "so? What would you have me do?"

I glare at him and scratch my eyes.

"Hmm?" he shrugs his leg, nudging me on his lap, "is all that's left? For you to cry about your digital pals?"

"grAH! It's not like I can just follow them back and say someone took my-- no wait... I can just say that!"

Tywin raises his brows as I turn to take my phone. Before I can do anything though, he shakes his head, "I thought interacting with them 'freaked you out?'"

"Yes, but I can't just-"

"I'll have their accounts suspended."

I raise my brows as he turns to his desktop.

"What's that app called? I'm sure it will be easy to get someone to-"

"No-- honey, that's so dramatic," I place my hands in his chest.

He turns to me with a raised brow, "now it's dramatic?"

"You're talking about suspending accounts just because!"

"Because they bother you," he rebuts, face dead serious.

His deadpan makes my stomach roll. I gulp and feel my heart race.

"Besides, what's one more bloody email to me when I've gone through hundreds?"

My breathing begins to grow heavy, but no longer because of my internet dilemma.

He averts his attention to his computer, "now tell me the name of that stupid app."

I take a deep breath and chew on my lip. I place my phone down and slump as I look at him, "you like me so much you'd waste your time on this?"

If it was possible, Tywin's deadpan drops even more.

I lick my lips and hold back a laugh, momentarily grinding down on him.

He turns to me.

I mutter, "my stomach feels fuzzy."

"Because of your internet issue?" he leans his head back.

"Hmm... and cos I like how much you like me."

I catch the slight glimmer in his eyes, though he tries not to betray his deadpan.

I sniffle for effect and shrug. I rub our noses together and bite my lower lip, "Mr. Lannister, do you have a crush on me?"

His brows quirk and he is unable to conceal his chuckle. He breaks into a groan and rubs his hands up my back, "what irritating creature you are."

My breath hitches as he leans in for a kiss. It was a chaste one, one that meant to show affection or even soothe. In truth, it was slightly surprising, considering his affections were mostly tangible. I pull away to giggle at him and grasp his cheeks, "you like annoying girlies?"

"Careful now, girl" Tywin narrows his eyes, "I enjoy you, but be careful."

"Mmm," I nudge his face with my nose, "and how would you like to enjoy me, kitty?" I bring my hands to his belt.

"Gagged."

I chuckle as I undo his buckle, "but milorddd--"

He gruffs.

"--I want you to use this on my wrists."

Tywin draws a deep breath, "the brat wants to be bound, does she?"

I nod slowly and pull his belt off. I hang the black leather on me like a scarf and grab his face, kissing him greedily. I shift on his lap and grind down on him. I chuckle when I feel him hardness through my shorts.

"Where do you want to enjoy me, daddy?" I mutter before licking a stripe up his neck.

He groans, "on my desk, whore."

He doesn't have to tell me twice as I shove his things out of the way to make room for myself on the surface. I lie on my back, curling my legs up as I excitedly loop the belt.

"On your belly," he commands.

"Nooo," I whine as I willingly trap my wrists in knot I prepared, "wanna see you. Wanna see you get tired as you fuck me."

Tywin grabs his belt and tightens my bounds, "filthy brat."

I giggle then huff as he yanks my arms up and positions me on his desk. He pushes the hand that held my bound ones above my head and looks down at me. I stretch my legs and wrap them around his waist, "love seeing your face when you come in me, daddy."

"Mmm," he leans and grinds down on my steadily dampening core, "you like seeing me use you like a clock sleeve?"

My breathing strains. I nod with enthusiasm, "all I'm good for."

He hums again, deeply pleased. He grinds rougher into me, causing me to shift from my spot. He grabs my thigh with his free hand and repositions me, "you know your place-"

I grind my hips, meeting his rhythm.

"-yet you somehow believe I should reward you for being a whore," he mutters, stopping his movements.

I make a sound at the lack of friction and seal him tighter around my legs.

"So audacious in your need," he digs his fingers into the garter of my shorts, "beg for it."

"Please," I lick my lower lip, "I need you-- need you to fuck me- use me like toy-"

"Desperate hussy," he pulls my shorts down.

Just as he said, I desperately wiggle to help him pull my shorts off with one hand. He chuckles and sinks his face into my neck, taking in my scent then nipping my skin.

"Let's see how desperate you are," he whispers hotly against my ear.

He rids me fully of my bottoms. He fastens my legs back around him then grinds down into me once more. The friction of his pants on my bare cunt makes me hiss. I moan and throw my head back, adjusting my hips until it feels good. The sound that leaves me when he rubs me the right way is nasty.

Tywin simultaneously moans and sighs. His nails scratch up my thigh and he squeezes my hips before continuing the travel to my breast. He pushes my shirt up and kneads my fleshy lumps. He hums in approval when I arch my back.

"Please. More," I whimper, looking up at him.

He tilts his head, "more what?"

"More you," my hands begin to strain as I overcome with the need to touch him.

He senses it and tightens my bounds, making me whimper. He renews his grip on my wrists then brings his other to inspect the building mess between my thighs.

I moan when he rubs my clit. He pulls back and inspects my arousal. He wets his two fingers with my slick before sinking into me. I whine at his prodding, jaw hanging low, hips grinding into him, "Tywin."

"So soft," he pumps his fingers into me, "so fuckable."

My stomach tightens at the wet sounds of his ministrations, and in turn, I clench around his fingers.

He moans my name, making my stomach flip. He rubs his palm into my clit, "your cunt's hungry for my fingers."

I moan, needing more friction. I pant like a depraved animal, "more, fuck, please."

Tywin basks in the way he makes me tick. He tunes in to the sounds I emit as my folds leak more and more.

I whimper when he pulls out and brings his fingers to my lips. Without any thought, I dutifully clean them, lapping evidence of myself off his digits. I graze his skin with my teeth as he pulls out with a pop. He chuckles, "dirty work for a dirty girl."

"Yes, please, I'm a dirty girl."

I yelp when he grabs me by the throat and pushes my head back. He does not choke me per se, but there is pressure in his hold. He clicks his tongue and shakes his head, "again, you think you deserve a reward for being a harlot?"

"No, daddy," I whine, "being a needy whore doesn't win me prizes."

"Mmm," he trails his hands back down to my breast.

"But it does make your cock hard," I sigh as I roll my hips.

This sets Tywin off. It's a visible change. He proceeds to rub my clit to prove a point, and clearly the point is to make me writhe and come all over his desk.

I moan unabashedly, something he's always loved about me. I whine his name and chant agreements, encouraging his finger fucking. I roll my hips and arch my back even more. I throw my head back and feel my neck strain as I chase the building pleasure he was supplying.

And I really shouldn't have been surprised, but he stops just as my orgasm was dawning.

I look at him, teary eyed from the loss of my incoming high. I pout and whine.

"Beg."

"Please, please, I wanna come, baby. I need it. I need it, I want it."

Tywin teases me with his thumbs.

I let out a strangled moan, feeling my body quake, "mmm-- daddy, please. I need you! I need you to fuck me. I want you to fuck me with your fingers, with your cock, oh- fuck- want you to come in me and spit in my mouth and ruin me."

Tywin groans and shakes his head, "you truly are a depraved little whore, aren't you?"

I moan and nod, "yes. Yes, I am. I need it so bad, daddy, it hurts. My pussy needs you-"

He grabs my jaw, squeezing it to keep it open, "you want my spit in your mouth?"

I nod rapidly and stick my tongue out.

"You will not get everything that you want, slut," he says, releasing me to undo his pants with one hand.

I pant as I watch him free himself. When he does, my cunt quakes in anticipation, aching to be filled. I spread my legs, bringing my knees to my sides. My brows furrow in concentration, "please, please, please, I need your cock. Use me, please. I need you--"

My words are cut off by him finally driving into me. I squeal in excitement. I groan and tightly grip on the belt as much as I can. He thrusts into me with little regard for anything but himself. He gets lost in his thrusts. He presses his hand into my inner thigh and pushes my leg down. He pulls the belt on my wrists and pistons harder.

I cry out in approval. I mumble incoherent words of praise and encouragement in manner that scratches my throat.

Tywin eventually releases his hold on my bounds in lieu of rubbing my clit. At the same time, he thrusts slower and deeper, making me throw my head back in pleasure.

"Fuck! Just like that. That feels so fucking good, mmm fuck-"

He drags out his cock even slower, withdrawing until he's nearly out then sinking back in till his stones hit my ass. His deft fingers, wet with my lust for him, rapidly rub my clit in a fast and delicious pace. I squeal when he sporadically slaps into me, only to draw back out in a languid manner again.

My eyes begin to water and my belly trembles at the ministrations.

I whine on beat with his thrusts when he grabs my hips with his large hands and plunges deep, bullying my cunt with short and shallow shoves. My breathing is loud and hard as I wrangle out of my bounds, dying to touch him as he makes my pussy flutter. Seeing this, Tywin growls and pushes my hands back down, "stupid whore. Lay down and take it."

I make a squeaky noise, "wanna touch you- needa touch you."

"Were you not the one who asked for this?" he groans through laboured breath, "are you so dumb fucked already you've forgotten?"

I squeal and feel my breath get knocked out of me when he returns to a more brutish pace, holding me down by my decolletage. My body jolts on impact, in turn, making the desk creak and the objects upon it jostle. My salivating mouth chokes out a response, "no-- wanna to- wan' touch you, da-" I whine, "please."

"Greedy come slut."

I let out a broken moan, "lovie, please- please. Wanna touch- wanna pull you close--"

"I'm inside you," he chuckles darkly, one hand tightening around my throat.

The lack of oxygen and his thrusts make me see stars.

The next moment, he begins to fuck me slowly again, grinding into me in a moderate tempo. He stuffs his thumb into my mouth, effectively muffling my whines. I haughtily suck on his finger. With the new found quiet, the wet slapping and thrusting was now audible to anyone earshot. The sounds makes my belly wild with lust.

"Look at you," he mumbles as he does just that. He looks at me as I suck on his thumb and mewl; he watches as his cock disappears into core, my puffy lips parting with every thrust, "so eager for my seed."

I pathetically sound off at the idea, rolling my hips as I did.

"Shall I put an heir into your belly, pet?" he releases my wrists, bringing the now free hand onto my stomach, "my pretty girl."

I gag at the idea, nibbling down on his thumb as I desperately wiggle the belt off my hands. Tywin ignores me as the fantasy of fucking me pregnant clouds his mind. His breath strains as he rubs a side of my stomach, "though, I do like painting your skin with my seed."

I whimper and furrow my brows. I choke on his thumb as I mutter, "no, inside. Inside, please!"

Tywin is snapped out of his fantasies and pulls his thumb out of my mouth. He tilts his head as he watches me struggle out of the belt, "oh? You think you deserve that?"

I make a frustrated sound as I free myself from my bounds. All the while, Tywin uses his wet thumb to slowly draw circles on my clit.

I gasp when I finally manage to shrug the belt off my wrists.

Lost in the thought again, Tywin continues with his steady and deep pistoning. He imagines how my body might change to accommodate his child, how my belly will grow, how my breasts will heavy, how my slick will sweeten. He hums and curses under his breath. He doesn't actually want an heir, he doesn't think, but gods fantasy of it all.

"Need it," I whimper, reaching out to him. I grab his dress shirt and scratch the sides of his ribs. I lick my lips and debate ripping the his shirt open, but don't want to deal with repercussions of flying buttons nor what he'll do to me for destroying his shirt. I hastily unbutton his top and rub the expanse of his chest. My hands run up to his neck. I massage his shoulders and pull him close, lifting my head up to kiss him.

Tywin leans down, lips finding my own, but just before I can deepen our kiss, he pulls away and clutches my jaw, "I asked if you deserve it, my stupid fuck-toy," he rests his forehead on my temple, "not if you need it."

As this point, his movements slow then cease altogether. I whine in protest.

He clicks his tongue and rubs my thighs, "use your words, darling."

I continue to whine as I scratch as his nape. "I deserve it," I stretch out, peppering kisses all over his face. He leans into me. I lick his lower lip, " 'm a good girl, officer. So good."

He groans when I begin to roll my hips again. He grips the curve of my ass and shakes his head, "your whorish nature proves overwise."

"Please, please, please--"

"Will you cry to me about your woes and then cry again when I take action?"

I rapidly shake my head, "never. Never, lovie."

Tywin hums and rubs his nose on my cheek.

"Please," I beg, "please," I urge, "please."

He kisses my jaw and begins to move again. I squeal in relief and nip at his ear.

"Since you asked so nicely," he mutters, propping himself up on his palms.

I shift my weight on my elbows and chase after his mouth. I give him messy kisses and make it a point to catch his lips between my teeth at least once. Though normally, he would see this as an act worth punishing, in the moment, he did not care. He, quite frankly, loved the neediness, not that's he'd say that out loud.

Tywin loses himself as he bucks into a thorough pace. He plows into me with enough force to make his desk squeak and thud in protest. I meet his movements with the grinding of my hips and wanton pants. Amidst all the sensations, I feel my climax quickly drawing near.

"Yeah, baby, so good. So good."

He grunts as he squeezes the flesh on my hips. He pushes my knees back with one hand as the other rubs down to the small of my back, "you like that?"

I claw at his shoulder, dig my fingers into his nape, and rapidly nod, mumbling in mindless agreement. He huffs, looking down at me in self-satisfaction, wholly enjoying the reaction he was garnering. He spectates the wet slapping of our skin and the shuddering of my belly. He rubs circles on my clit.

"Fuck, Tywin."

He hums, "such sweet sounds."

I drop my head back.

"Prove your obedience then. Come on my cock."

I whimper his name out repeatedly and chase my incoming high.

Tywin pounds into me with more vigor, rougher and harder and more desperate.

I feel my belly begin to tighten. I howl and pull him close. I bring my mouth to his neck and graze him my teeth. I sigh and lick his skin before sucking the area, "give it to me, gimme, baby-- need it, need'a-"

His mouth finds mine and we share a heated kiss. He pushes me flat on the desk, hands on my shoulder and hip. He grips me tightly as he stokes the fire building inside him. He flicks his hips at a desperate pace and his expression displays his single-mindedness: his brows furrow, his jaw drops. My own face makes known how intoxicating it all was. Much as I wanted to watch him come, the twitch of my features prevent me from doing so, and soon enough, my eyes screw shut to focus on my pleasure.

Tywin's nails bite into my skin, and with two strong, distinct plunges, he grunts and releases his lustful heat. He continues to fuck me through his peak, and I feel him throb as he sighs deeply in ecstacy.

Quickly after, I let out a throaty squeal as my body breaks into burning bliss. My spine twists and my thighs shake as I feel my come spill down my ass onto the wood supporting my weight. I heave heavily through my open mouth and squeeze the arm pushing my shoulder down with both my hands. I lick his fingers as I grind into him, riding out my climax.

He begins to falter moments later. I wrap my legs around his waist and seal him in place. My body buzzes as he caresses my neck and rubs my lips with his thumb.

Breathlessly, he praises, "good girl."

My belly tingles and my eyes open to his look of bliss. I lick his thumb then kiss it, pulling his hand off me to then kiss his palm, "thank you, daddy."

Tywin takes a couple open-mouthed breaths as he examines me. He kneads my exposed breast then rubs down my belly. He licks his lips, evidently satisfied. I whimper as I push myself up and bury my face into the crook of his neck. I sneak my arms underneath his open shirt and pepper kisses on his skin, licking, nibbling, and doting on him.

He's accustomed to how I get after a good fucking, and though his sigh was that of content, it was also something else. He places his hands on the curve of my hips and nudges me with his nose, "I have work to do, needy pup."

I bite his neck hard enough to make him react. He calls my name out as a warning. "Wanna stay like this," I whisper hotly against his ear.

He sighs again as my lips kiss their way to his. He knits his brows but returns my affection.

I drape my arms over his shoulders, one hand combing through his white hair, "don't want my old man to be cold."

Tywin makes a disapproving sound at my feigned concern. He rolls his eyes and I simply giggle, knowing even in his annoyance, he'd let me have my way. "You will not distract me," says the man with his serious Lannister™ voice.

I am immensely undeterred and overly confident in my post-sex state, and so I stick my tongue out through my teeth before shaking my head. He sighs yet again, shaking his head as he tries to push me off. I whine and scowl in offense, tightening my arms and legs around him. The man knows it's futile, and yet he continues to push me back, as he also knows he will let himself get distracted once this work stokes his ire.

Coming to terms with his defeat, he stops pushing me off. I pull my lips into a pleased smile and look at him.

He raises his brow and warns, "you will not speak a word unless spoken to."

My stomach rolls at the severity of his tone.

"And you will not complain about how I'm ignoring you, nor long it's taking me to complete my work while you are nestled on my lap."

I chew my lip and tilt my head, "can I complain if I'm off you?"

"Yes."

I nod, "okay, kitty meow meow, sit down on your chair then."

Tywin's brow quirks.

I blink expectantly, "come on, honey. With all the exercise we do, I'm sure you can manage to get us on your chair."

He glares at me, but I simply do not care. I grin and rub the line between his brows.

With a grunt from him and a giggle from me, we end up on his chair. I kiss his cheek and rub his shoulders, "good boy."

He ignores me and rolls his chair towards his desk with slight difficulty. He arranges his things and wipes down the wet blob on his desk with a tissue, "dirty temptress."

I chuckle and rest my head on his shoulder.

We both know Tywin Lannister would never donate to charity 🤢 be better than our old man, and please consider donating €5 to Rital's GoFundMe if you enjoyed this fic.

#for rital #tywin x reader #tywin lannister #tywin lannister smut #tywin smut #game of thrones smut #game of thrones fanfic #got smut #tywin fanfic #tywin lannister fanfic #lannister fanfic #tywin fluff #tywin lannister fluff

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dotster001 · 5 months ago

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Those are the Eyes...

Summary: Jack Howl x gn! Reader. Jack discovers a new magic that will finally free you from those who wish to use you. (It's not that serious. He's just being Jack)

CW: Crowley is an ass, but what else is new, silly fic, nothing serious

This fic was sponsored, for the Fics for Gaza Project! Find out how you can sponsor a fic here.

Jack was sick of you getting pulled into terrible situations by your other friends. When the two of you had started dating, he had hoped he would have a little more sway when it came to your decisions of whether to listen to an ADeuce idea or not, but he had had no such luck so far.

And it wasn't just them. You were too kind to everyone in this school often at the expense of your own well being.

"Y/N! We haaaave to add more money to the tuna budget."

You looked exasperated. "Grim, I've already told you, we've put all the money we can into the tuna budget."

Grim pouted and crossed his arms. "Do we really need to fix the stairwell this month? I think it's fine the way it is."

It wasn't. Honestly, Ramshackle should have been condemned in the shape it was in.

"Yes, Grim, we really do," you sighed.

Grim suddenly held a paw to his forehead. "Oh! The Great Grim feels faint!" He fell backwards and whimpered. "I'm starving because of my cruel Hench human. I may die right here."

"You're not starving Grim, your tuna budget is fine," Jack finally cut in. But when he looked over at you, he could see that you were going to cave.

And then it happened. It came from deep down inside of him, like a second unique magic. His pupils expanded, his eyebrows rose ever so slightly, and his bottom lip stuck out in a little pout.

Suddenly, the look on your face changed. You looked at him with concern.

"Aw, c'mon Jack, don't give me those puppy dog eyes!"

But his face held his expression, and now his tail was drooping for good measure. "It would just tear me up inside if you weren't able to live in a safe environment, Y/N."

That did it for you. You placed your hands on his cheeks and hastily exclaimed, "If it means that much to you, I won't change the tuna budget." You hugged him and nuzzled into his chest whispering a "sorry". Which was fine, because it meant you didn't see his tail wagging up a storm.

He had thought maybe it was a fluke. But after running a few experiments, he realized you were weak for what you called his "puppy dog eyes". No longer could Ace get you to paint the roses for him. No longer could Ruggie get you to give him some of your lunch for nothing. No longer could Grim guilt you into buying more tuna than you needed. Finally, the two of you didn't have to play parents to everyone and you could spend time together.

But with great power comes great responsibility.

He was sitting in Azul's office, sizing him up across the desk.

"What did you want from me?" He asked finally.

Azul gestured dramatically. "There's a rumor going around that you can make a certain prefect do whatever you want."

He snapped his fingers and Jade pulled out a contract.

"I am prepared to offer you…."

But before he could even finish the offer, Jack was leaving the room.

It wasn't a one off thing.

"Ay, Jack!" Ruggie sidled up next to him on the way to class. "You think you can do me a solid? See, I have a lot of chores to do for Leona, and I was hoping you could ask Y/N to…"

And Jack was gone again.

The headmage had summoned Jack to his office. He placed a plate of delicious food in front of him, and was staring at him with a serene smile on his face.

Jack did not trust that one bit.

The headmage leaned back in his chair, simply watching Jack. Jack stared back, not touching his plate.

“Mr. Howl, I was hoping you could help me with a situation. I, and the entirety of the student body, will be eternally grateful.”

Jack said nothing, continuing to stare. Normally, he would assist the headmage in any way, his sense of honor always looking for a way to help the school. But, with the recent attempts to use his new ability for selfish ends, he was extremely suspicious.

“I have called the prefect in for a meeting. You see, it's the time of year where the dark mirror provides us a list of names for potential incoming students. I need a secretary, who will write down the list of names, compile the addresses, send out the acceptance letters, etc. etc. You understand, surely.”

Crowley leaned in conspiratorially, a sly grin on his face.

“You will help me convince them to take on this task, for the sake of our esteemed university, won't you?”

Jack stood angrily, slamming his hands on the table as he leaned into Crowley's face.

“This power I have been given is strong. And if I waste it on things that are to the detriment of my partner, then I do not deserve to even be with them.”

Crowley's smirk turned down right sinister.

“A shame, truly. Too bad. Because they are already here.”

A knock rang from the door, and Jack's head whipped over in time to see you walk in. Your eyes lit up when you saw him, and Jack had to fight off the embarrassment of not having anywhere to hide his wagging tail.

“Perfect, welcome! Have a seat!” Crowley said, and Jack felt a guilty sense of pride as the light left your eyes upon hearing his voice.

You walked to the empty seat next to where Jack was standing, taking it. You raised a brow expectantly.

“What do you want, headmage?” You asked tiredly.

And Jack knew he couldn't simply be a witness. If he couldn't protect you from one crow, then what was his new magic ability for?

“I need you to be my full time secretary until the end of the school year-”

“Am I getting paid?” You asked, bluntly.

“No, but-”

“Then no.”

At that moment, Jack realized he was not the only one with a secondary unique magic that was capable of manipulating you. Crowley's expression shifted into one of a cruel, terrifying, debt collector.

“Night Raven College is an esteemed university, one that is exclusive to only the best mages. And yet we have provided you with a home, and an invaluable education. All for free. The least repayment you can give is selflessly serving our university.”

He watched as you deflated. The truth was, you'd become invaluable to NRC. There was no reason Crowley would logically kick you out, especially for a job he had done alone for years before you had popped into this world. He was bluffing.

But the move was working. You were opening your mouth to accept the job, when Jack knelt before you, placing his hands on your leg to get your attention. Then he activated his power.

Your mouth instantly closed, your expression shifting to one of distracted adoration at his “puppy dog eyes”.

“The budget we would need to hire a secretary will, unfortunately, have to come out of the renovation budget for Ramshackle.”

Your face immediately flicked back up to Crowley. Jack had underestimated how strong Crowley's powers were. The crow had had years to grow his abilities, while Jack had only had a few months.

Jack pawed at your leg, forcing his ears to droop as he intensified his “magic”. Your look of dejection melted, your lips parting in a silent “aw”.

“We may even have to get rid of an extra student. Providing for two of you is an unnecessary expense, to the board.”

You whipped back to Crowley, but Jack knew that was his last card. But if he smiled smugly now, he would lose. So he dug deep within himself, pulling at an inner supply of strength.

His pupils expanded even further, glitter and hearts filled the air, and he watched your face split into a dopey grin, your hand moving on it's own to scratch behind his ears.

“Sorry headmage, I don't think I can,” you said, your voice sounding loopy and lovesick.

The headmage scowled, but Jack held firm, the sparkles and hearts floating in the air twirling for good measure.

“Fine. You win this round Howl. But, next time, I'll be prepared for you! Mark my words!” Crowley shouted.

Luckily, you were too caught in Jack's spell to even hear his words, as he escorted you from the room.

You were halfway to the mirror chamber to return to Ramshackle, when you turned to him, cupping his cheeks, and exclaiming,

“Sevens! You just look so cute!” Then you kissed the tip of his nose.

His embarrassment caused him to drop the puppy eyes spell. He looked away, rubbing his neck for something to distract himself. When he looked up, you were blinking in confusion.

“Where am I? I thought I was in Crowley's office. How did I get out here?”

Now he was more embarrassed. He'd gone too hard, too quickly, with his magic.

He was about to apologize, when you smiled at him sweetly.

“Wait, it was my perfect, handsome wolf who protected me, right?”

Oh.

Oh no.

He wasn't the only one with magic to make someone lovesick.

....

Tag list- @eccedentesiast-sapphic @leoll @strawberrystepmom

Lemme know if you want to be added to my regular tag list. I lost my original list, so this is just the one I could find.

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #jack howl x reader #jack howl #fics for gaza

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lovesickonmybed · 8 months ago

Text

crazy fuckin' phenomenon | 18+

masterlist | info about palestine | donate to gaza

pairing | dbf!joel miller x reader

synopsis | after your dad abandons joel to watch instagram reels in the bathroom, an argument over the remote ends in a new discovery

warnings | excessive use of bigfoot as a plot device, dbf!joel, explicit sexual content, smut, age gap (20s/late 30s), play fighting with sexual tension, wedgies, humiliation, degradation, kink discovery, semi brat tamer!joel, almost getting caught, blue balls

word count | 2030

a/n | this was co-written with one of my favorite people ever but they wish to remain anonymous! this was so so so fun to work on and i think it really shows. i urge you to not buy any of the last of us games, including the remaster as the creator, neil druckmann is a zionist. the second game is based off of the israeli occupation in palestine and you can learn more about that here.

“Joel I swear to fucking god if I have to watch one more episode of Finding Bigfoot, I’m clawing my eyes out.”

There’s only so much bickering between Matt Moneymaker and Ranae Holland that you can take, and apparently, you’ve found your limit. Approximately five minutes. Joel had come over to hang out with your father, they had planned to watch some war movie because they’re fucking old, but, in typical dad fashion, your father had gotten up halfway through to use the bathroom. After 30 minutes, Joel couldn’t wait anymore and switched the TV to Animal Planet so he could watch Finding Bigfoot reruns. That was two hours ago, and you’ve now spent an hour on the couch with Joel, pleading for him to change it. Of course, your TV decides to stop working the one time your dad actually wants to use the living room TV. So, yeah, you can be a little bit of a drama queen.

“If you can drag your old man off ‘a the shitter, we can go back to watchin’ Come and See. Three fuckin’ hours, startin’ to think he pulled an Elvis.”

“Seriously, Joel,” you bellyache, slumping back into the couch. “Dunno why they’re looking for Bigfoot when he’s clearly right fucking here.” You shoot him a glare from across the couch.

“Uh huh,” Joel drones, either not listening or either not giving a fuck while he watches one of the camouflaged hosts do a shitty imitation of a sasquatch mating call.

Well, since he’s distracted…

With the stealth of a super spy, you lunge over Joel’s lap towards the side table, reaching past discarded beer bottles and hunting magazines for the hijacked remote. You snatch it right up, victorious for a few seconds at most.

“Now what in the hell do you think you’re doin’? Gonna put on fuckin’ Euphoria or something?” You don’t have time to come up with a witty response before you’re pinned down to the couch cushions. Joel’s hulking form hangs over you, shoulders broad and his hair messy as he gives you a smug look. Cursing the cavewoman part of you that gets butterflies in your stomach from how easily he overpowers you, you writhe underneath him.

“Joel what the fuck? Get off me you old fuck!” You groan, grunting in frustration as you try to maneuver Joel off of you. You’re weak as shit but you remember something from the self defense class you took in high school. You knee Joel in the chest, causing him to fall back, giving you a chance to roll off the couch and onto your knees. You look back as he coughs and gasps, trying to catch his breath.

“Oh you little shit!” Joel groans, getting off the couch and looming over you like a killer in a slasher fic. He smirks down at you, tilting his head to the side like Micheal Myers.

You feel your heart start to race and your cunt start to pulse. You turn back and start to crawl away but Joel leans down and grabs your ankle, pulling you back to him. You definitely feel like you’re in a slasher film now.

“Oh sweetheart, you’re not gettin’ away that easily…needa stop acting like such a little brat. Your daddy was never that good at discipline.”

You don’t know what you’re expecting. But Joel’s warm hands sneaking down the waistband of your denim cutoffs is not it. You cry out as his fingers loop around your purple thong, drawing it midway up your back. Pain sears up your ass, and much more dangerous, pleasure tingles in your cunt when the front of your thong slips between your folds. Kicking your legs, you smack your palm into the carpet underneath you. “Joel!” you gasp out in surprise.

Maddeningly, Joel chuckles at your struggle underneath him. He shifts to straddle your upper thighs, weighing you down even more. “What, ain’t ever had a wedgie before?” Another sharp tug makes your head drop to the floor. You fight not to give into your body’s base desire to arch your back. “With how often you run your mouth, I’m surprised your friends never ran you up the flagpole in the schoolyard.”

You scrunch your fingers in the fiber of the carpet, trying to anchor yourself to anything other than the searing pain in your ass and cunt. It doesn’t work. You can’t focus on anything but this cruel and unusual punishment. Your dad’s best friend, wedgieing you into obedience.

Somehow, he pulls even harder. All of that contracting work isn’t for nothing. You’re silently moaning now, mouth open and your forehead dipped to the floor, desperate pants flying in and out of your mouth. “Hmmm,” he hums. “Wonder if I could get these over your head. Bet you’d have an easier time watchin’ my show with that.”

“Please,” you rasp. Your brain wants you to beg for him to let you go. Your cunt wants you to beg for him to be meaner. To go all the way and snap them over your head, leaving you ass up and face down, split in half for his enjoyment. You short circuit before you can get any further into the plea, because he’s pulling your panties even higher in brutal bursts.

“Begging ain’t gonna help, honey. You’ve made your bed, now lie in it.”

The waistband gets halfway up your neck before Joel gives up. The tension in your body lessons as you melt into the floor. “You ain’t off the hook yet, missy,” Joel says, smirk evident in his voice.

He guides your arms through the leg holes of your panties, and you moan helplessly as he snaps them over your shoulders, leaving you in the equivalent of a wedgie bodysuit. You feel like you’re being split in half.

You can’t help it. You roll your hips, grinding into your panties and the floor. The pressure is everywhere and it’s perfect. Perfect against your burning asshole, your leaking cunt, and your throbbing clit. Every movement also propels you up against Joel, something you can’t even bring yourself to remember right now. You’re wet – unbelievably fucking wet. “What the hell are you doing to me?” you whine, still humping the floor as heat blossoms in your core.

Joel stiffens above you. “Are you…” He clears his throat, a rough noise. “Are you fuckin’ into this?”

The question alone makes you whimper.

Every rock of your hips has the wedgie slicing deeper, pulling you apart piece by piece from your most sensitive place. You arch your back properly, that way every time you go up, you can feel Joel’s bulge against your rear. Joel’s quickly hardening bulge as he watches you lose all of your dignity while humping the floor with your panties rammed up your ass.

“Shut the fuck up, Joel! I’m not into this…I just-” He cuts you off by flicking the string of your thong. Tellingly, you moan out.

“Just what? Just get off on getting split in half by your fuckin’ panties?”

You try to speak but he shoves you forward, pressing your face against the carpet and pinning you down, “Just shut your mouth, don’t want your daddy findin’ ya like this do ya? God, just imagine what he’d say…. Seein’ his precious ‘lil girl gettin’ all wet from a well-deserved wedgie up these plump fuckin’ cheeks.” His hand glides down between your ass cheeks and slaps against your denim-covered bottom. You jolt, moaning where he’s pressing your face into the carpet. You’ll be surprised if your drool isn’t soaking it.

“Joooooel,” you pout, still fighting underneath him. You kick your feet, and they barely graze the small of Joel’s back, a sort of flexibility you can’t afford very much of right now. “Can’t… can’t take much more. Hurts.”

“I’ll tell you what you can take, you little brat. You’re lucky you’re not hangin’ up by these,” Joel grabs the waistband of your light wash denim shorts, using it to lift you up off the floor while you grasp at the carpet in a poor attempt to stay on the ground.

It doesn’t work. Joel hauls you up, grabbing the front and back of your wedgie. You can’t stop yourself from moaning again, dimly away that your dad is still in the bathroom and still could walk out at any given time. You hope Joel’s good ear can hear if the toilet flushes, because you can’t hear a damn thing over your own pulse rocketing in your ears.

He yanks the back of your thong, and then the front, effectively flossing your ass crack and cunt. Your hands fly down to your thighs, but it’s not like you can do anything, because the next thing Joel does is lift you fully off the ground. You cry out, hastily clamping a hand over your mouth, and decide three things back to back to back.

One – fuck Joel Miller.

Two – fuck Joel Miller.

Three – you might actually really like this.

The third one you realize when you look down to see your arousal seeping through the denim. The humiliation stings on your cheeks with a sort of heat you’ve never felt in your life. He bounces you in the damn thing, pulling you up and down with a strength you’d never fathomed he could have.

You can’t stop yourself from grinding down when he brings you up, pulling your panties even deeper into your ass and cunt. You whine and grab at Joel’s forearm for purchase, nearly fucking yourself against the thin fabric that’s cutting you in half. Joel’s satisfaction at it all, the way you can feel him getting sadistically hard behind you from your cocktail of pain and pleasure, is what truly makes it for you. You buck against your panties even harder, letting out a truly ragged moan when it brushes your clit just right.

“You’re taking this so good, ain’t even cryin’ or nothin’. Should I hang you up? Get your eyes just as wet as your cunt? Could you even take it, or are you gonna cream your pretty little panties before I even get you on a hook?”

The answer is yes – you are going to cream your panties before he gets you on a hook.

Your orgasm rips through you violently, lighting you on fire as you hang in suspension and just take it. Ass burning and your cunt dripping like Niagara Falls, you clench and grind on your panties as desperately as you can to prolong your orgasm. Your eyes water, heart beating out of control. Joel’s hand cups your mound, heel rubbing against where your clit pulses. You’re still tremoring by the time you come down. Everything feels like it’s in technicolor, easily marking the most powerful orgasm of your life.

You realize Joel has deposited you back on the ground. It’s a miracle you’re even standing at all with how limp-boned you are. Chest rising and falling, you stumble back around to face Joel, whose cock is straining against his jeans. You’re about to put him out of his misery, not even taking the time to pick your wedgie as your hand flies towards his belt when you hear it –

Wooooooooshgluglgulglug.

You take your wedgie out like you’re racing to get rid of a ticking time bomb, frantically yanking it down your shoulders and tucking the strings into your waistband. Still burning up from your orgasm, blatantly freshly fucked, you give Joel a half-apologetic look (he had given you a hellish wedgie, after all) and scamper upstairs.

You barely acknowledge your dad as you brush past him. “Hey sweetie, goin’ back up?”

“Mhm,” you get out, almost tripping up the stairs.

“Hm, wonder what’s wrong with her,” you hear your dad reflect to Joel.

“No idea,” Joel says.

You’re about to close your door when you hear more commentary from downstairs. Your dad’s voice. “Woah there, man. Got a thing for bigfoot?”

Your eyebrows shoot to your goddamn hairline as your heartbeat spikes and your brain fills in the gaps.

“Fear boners, crazy fuckin’ phenomenon,” Joel says, just as casual as ever. Yeah. Crazy fucking phenomenon is right.

#joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller/reader #joel miller fanfic #joel miller fic

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vampiricgf · 4 months ago

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g. satoru ; in the house of hunger

vampire satoru x f!reader | this fic was completed as part of the @ficsforgaza wip sponsorship ty for donating to Palestinian gfm's and helping people in need in Gaza! to learn more or get involved please check out their blog & read through their pinned post

warnings: dark content/dddne, violence, blood, gore, ooc satoru, yandere, psychological torment, obsession, mention of bathing and dressing an unconscious reader, masturbation, he's an unhinged little creep, heavily inspired by classic vampire lit n victorian aesthetics but unspecified time period/place

wc: 2k+

really living up to the username with this one :3 also leaving room for a pt 2 maybe idk nyeways ty for reading!

Human life was so fleeting. To most of his kind humans were no better than livestock, and often treated as such. To Satoru it was a waste, humans were brimming with something so delectable, something every vampire fundamentally lacked: potential.

Vampires are rendered frozen at the moment of death, fundamentally deprived of all that was and all that could have been. It's a never ending state of boredom, of stagnation. Of forgetting.

He doesn't ever recall his own turning, not anymore. He's been alive for so long, in a manner of speaking, that the steady march of continuation outside his walls is of no consequence to him. It is an eternal source of frustration though, being nothing more than the mosquito encased in amber.

And perhaps that's what led him to you in the beginning.

Creatures like him are naturally drawn to battlefields, the veritable feast table laid by mans most brutal hands. The rich scent of churned earth, blood twinged iron, and the acrid aftertaste of human sweat and fear. Nothing more delicious on all the earth, the sweetest bouquet for the senses.

The first appearance he'd made had been in the aftermath of one such feast, a showcase of cruelty. The sounds of distant, drunken revelry nearly drowned out the hoarse cries of those succumbing to their wounds. It had been a quaint village previously, full of simple people living simple lives. One he enjoyed observing on occasion. But like most villages it was vulnerable to bands of raiders, would be pirates, or those who just wanted to take advantage and indulge in bloodshed.

As fine leather boots squished in the burgundy tinted mud his nose wrinkled. A waste.

Smog from still smoldering fires hung in the air, would have burned the back of his throat had he been a breathing man. Amongst the burnt skeletal remains of wooden structures and scarred earth there was a figure, prone in the mud.

A girl.

You.

For all his painful forgetting he could never forget the way you looked then. Not pitiful, no, despite your obvious injuries you gazed at the sky almost stubbornly. Even as he took that first deep inhale and traced the unique scent of you like a thread, knelt down at the top of your head, bending to look down at you you hadn't winced away or screamed. If anything you looked furious, full of anger and malice.

Had you the strength he was sure you would have snapped your jaws at him like a beast.

It was delightful.

All too often when a human is faced with such a moment of mortality their first instinct is to give up, accept fate. Only when one can push past it and refuse, that's when a human is most admirable to him. Most alluring. Brimming with potential.

"You still have your spite, huh?" He glanced between you and a pair of the obviously responsible raiders who'd wandered close in their drunkenness, far enough from the others in the distance. "Good, you'll need it."

"Fuck off."

It was so shocking it made him burst out into laughter. Even though it was clear speech was painful for you, the two words wheezing out of your throat and past what must have been a pool of blood hanging thickly in your esophagus, you had forced them out anyway.

Despite the fog of blood loss it was obvious you knew him for what he was. It was impressive though not surprising, superstition and legend were as common as baked bread in villages. A mother or grandmother likely told you some version of the story: an eerily beautiful stranger comes to a vulnerable person just on the precipice of death, offering salvation. Eagerly they accept, without realizing they've shackled themselves to a demon, sacrificed their immortal soul and earned damnation for the trouble.

"Aren't you in pain?" He already knew the answer.

In between rasping breaths he awaited your answer, the sky opened up above you and small droplets of water splattered against your skin, making the blood swirl in marble like designs as it seleuced into the ground. The scent of you was beyond tantalizing.

"Not anymore." You offered, and it concerned him how glassy your eyes were.

"I can help you, you know. Save you. All you have to do is ask."

Stubborn silence descended and quickly his frustration grew. Were you dense? Did you not realize what was being offered to you? Not just a reprieve from this pain, but from all pain. Forevermore. And instantaneous revenge. Oh how he would enjoy watching a thing like you rip and tear into those who only moments ago had laid waste to your entire life. That sort of human hatred was also unique and captivating to witness.

What sort of losses had you accumulated? A father? A mother? Siblings? He could feel his pointed canines catch against his bottom lip as a smiled down at you. Contrary to human belief, a horse can be led to water and made to drink if it's been deprived of enough.

"What about your loved ones? Your home? Will you lay in the mud like a slaughtered deer? Will you shame them like this?"

Again you had no answer and again his anger only rose in response.

To hell with it, obviously he'd grossly misjudged you but that didn't mean he would let you languish here. If they discovered you were still alive it was all too obvious what would come for you and it would be far less kind than himself.

So as your eyes rolled he heaved you into his arms. It had been a long while since he'd held anything, anyone. Even longer since a living creature was carried from a battlefield in his arms and up the long, winding path towards a very distant and long forgotten manor. He can't say for certain what came over him, but he has always had the poor habit of playing with his food.

In the weeks that followed his irritation only mounted. You staunchly refused anything to do with him, his very presence, only accepting the trays of food left at your door when he wasn't around to witness it and returning them in the same fashion. He could hear you at night, weeping like a child for everything you lost. It left a bitter taste in his mouth, left him lashing out night after night.

Those numbskull bandits had also picked what was once a fertile hunting ground clean, forcing him to venture further than he would've liked to for a meal but there was nothing to be done about it. Your home remained a charred ruin. It's people nothing but fodder for bloat flies and carrion birds before the bones started moldering in the ground. Just the way of things for fragile creatures.

Sometimes he'd pluck a finger bone or a piece of vertebrae to bring back for you, making sure sinew was still attached, to leave outside the room you'd resolutely locked yourself in. Cruel maybe but really can you blame him when you've been so dead set on behaving as frustratingly as possible? On biting the hand attempting to feed you?

Even if he hadn't laid eyes on you in days, even if you kept yourself locked away until you withered and died, you would be the only thing exempt from his curse of forgetting. How your hair looked soaked in blood and mud. How your eyes had shined but not with tears. How your lips had peeled back to reveal bloody, blunted teeth in a gruesome snarl.

It was perfection.

Almost as perfect as when he'd bathed your unconscious form of its grime, laid you so gently in the steaming water, lovingly tended your wounds and dressing you in the finest slip that was still tucked away in the wardrobe. He'd wanted to take you right then, not waste any time with the game of ask and response but there was no fighting his stubborn need for it to be your choice. You have to say yes to him. All he allowed himself was a longing lick up the side of your neck, stifled moans at just the way your skin tasted.

Tonight was different though as the recollection drifted through his mind. In the absolute stillness he could almost swear the taste of you lingered on his tongue, wafted through the air just like it had weeks ago. With a will of its own one hand began stroking himself through his pants, groaning at the combination of sensations.

He was sure if he could feel temperature shifts it would've been quite balmy all of a sudden inside the bedchamber as he undid the suffocating confines of his clothes, thick cock springing free and throbbing at the thought of how good your warm, human hands would feel grasping around him.

Would you be shy? Gazing up from half lidded eyes as if to ask for guidance? Or would that defiance shine through again, taking him in hand and smearing precum over his flushed pink tip with your thumb and oozing self assurance? His own fingers were sticky with pre-release as he gave shallow thrusts into his fist.

He's sure his name would sound like the sweetest note coming from your lips before you would take him into your mouth, cheeks hollowing and the corners of your lips tightening as you strain around his girth. Your tongue would be heavenly against the underside of his cock. Would you let him bury his hands in your hair, hold you still while he fucked your mouth in a brutal pace? Would you cry and gag around him?

His own ragged groans bounce off the icy stone walls, his unoccupied hand twisting against the bedsheets as his eyes squeezed shut even tighter and he could feel his abdominal muscles flexing with the need for release, his jaw nearly vibrating with the urge to clamp down on your jugular and take selfish gulps of you.

What makes him unravel entirely is wondering how it would feel to sink inside you, feel your slick warm walls part to accept him like a most welcome visitor. He'd lavish that pretty human pussy, rub sticky little hearts against your clit just to hear you squeal and make your hips buck. Keep you sat on his throbbing cock while he lapped at your neck, sucking on the skin to encourage the puncture wounds not to close so soon.

As his own hips stuttered and his head flung back against the pillows he couldn't help the one thought that circled around and around in his mind, like an ouroboros swallowing itself: he would certainly die if he never felt your touch. Would absolutely die without getting to taste you, feel you, claim you.

It was feverish, feeling it descending on him like some phantom tormentor as cum stained the surface of his loose undershirt and he could feel himself softening in his own now loose grasp. With a whimper his teeth caught his bottom lip between them, eyes staring unblinking at the canopy above the bed.

It doesn't matter how or when but you're going to choose him. You have to choose him.

#txt ☆ˎˊ˗#gojo satoru x reader #satoru x reader #satoru smut #satoru x you #gojo satoru #jjk smut #jjk x reader #gojo smut #gojo x reader #vampire satoru

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chaithetics · 7 months ago

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Fics for Palestine! 🖤❤️🤍💚

Hey, beautiful Tumblr besties!

Do you want a fic and to support a good cause? A super specific fic? Want to ensure you are fed those Monkey Man fics you're needing? Or have you sent me a request and want me to hurry up and write it (Sorry I do take my time with writing)? THEN READ

I will write and prioritise requests from you and have them posted on Tumblr NO LATER THAN MAY 31ST!!!!

All you need to do is send same day confirmation to me either in the ask box or as a message of donating to a fund or organisation on the Operation Olive Branch list! This could be a family's Go Fund Me page for evacuating Palestine, the UNRWA fund, or eSims for Gaza etc.

This is the Operation Olive Branch's linktree page

I don't know what the response will be to this, if miraculously so many people were interested that I was too overwhelmed I would come up with a new date or close temporarily and 'reopen' for June. We'll see how this does, but I will be regularly updating this!

I will write for the following characters:

Any Pedro Pascal characters

Any Oscar Isaac characters

Any Dev Patel characters

Any Fallout characters

Any Succession characters (not Old Guard or Greg lol but even Tom!)

Tommy Miller (TLOU)

Any The Bear characters

Marvel characters like Matt Murdock, Wanda, Bucky etc.

And more I just can't think of, you're more than welcome to ask about a certain character in comments, DMs or in my inbox before donating as well 🫶

What I will write:

I'll write fluff, angst, smut, or any combination! I will write plus size readers, poc readers, disabled readers etc. I will write female readers, and gender-neutral readers, I'm bi/queer so am happy to write wlw fics if you desire Shiv or some Wanda with an f reader or more straight ones- whatever you want! Requests can be as vague or as specific as you want!

If you want Kendall and Stewy's conversation the night before his wedding to Rava with some angst, you got it! If you wanted to request a plus-size reader to go on a bookstore date with a contemporary Ezra, you got it! It's pretty open to your dreams!

I won't write fics that are nonconsensual, 'dark', heavy kink, gore, vore, paedophilia, and nothing with under-18 readers or characters (this includes characters 'aged up' for a fic).

My masterlist is here for navigation and if you aren't familiar with my work but want to get an idea!!! Chaithetics Masterlist

Moving on.....

If you donate 5 USD, CAD, GBP, EURO whatever currency that fund is in:

I will write a fic with your request that is at least 500 words long and is posted no later than May 31st.

If you donate 10 USD, CAD, GBP, EURO whatever currency that fund is in:

I will write a fic with your request that is at least 1,000 words long and is posted no later than May 31st.

If you donate 50 USD, CAD, GBP, EURO whichever currency that fund is in:

I will write a fic with your request that is at least 4,000 words long and is posted no later than May 31st.

Why is this important?

We need to help out and do our part to not be complicit in Israel's genocide against the Palestinian people. Palestinians are begging for our attention and aid, since October 7th 2023, Israel has murdered over 35,000 Palestinians, displacing the survivors so many and committing numerous war crimes. Israel's expulsion, ethnic cleansing and war crimes have been terrorising the Palestinian people and land since 1948. We all have a part to play, so get involved with this if you like, please contact your local representatives and government, keep engaging with Palestinian content and voices, support the funds if you can- I know that's not accessible to everyone, attend rallies, protests, and vigils in support of Palestine. Do what you can, what is physically, emotionally and financially accessible to you.

I'd love it if you could share this as well, especially for my mutuals and others in these fandoms with much bigger platforms (I have a humble 300 followers, that I adore) and also for other writers to consider doing something like this! Thank you for reading this far, let's stay empathetic and support each other in these trying times 🖤❤️🤍💚

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abbyshands · 9 months ago

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"The reason that TLOU fans specifically seem to be so angry about the strike and annoyed at having to hear about what's going on in Palestine is because they don't want to be reminded of the reasons why they should no longer buy anything in relation to the game"

Not really, it's annoying to go to tumblr to a tag that is specifically for fics, and see posts about something else, If I want to see this, I will search on the tags about Palestine, but since I just want to read fics, I want to go to the tags and see fics

i think you need to comprehend how privileged you are to be complaining about this. i promise you it will take a mere few seconds more to keep scrolling long enough to find a fic. you can also filter your searches so they're easier to find (searching in the "last six months" section will make it easier to find fics than in the "all time" section for the sake of what you're getting at, especially if the word "fic" or "fanfiction" is following the name of the character you're looking for). also, if you click on a certain tag and go to the "top" part of it, you can find numerous fics there. people also usually have a pinned post that has all of their fics embedded within it, or even tags designated for their personal fic recommendations. what you're saying is that you're annoyed by having to take an additional five minutes to find a good fic. what i'm reading is pure privilege. i don't mean to be disrespectful: just merely voicing my opinion (regardless, though, you must want it, hence why you came into my inbox in the first place). also, in general, based on the way tumblr tags work, people on tlou tumblr who are (somehow ...) unaware of the genocide ensuing in palestine will be more likely to hear about it if there are tlou tags attached to the post, the reason why people are using them at all. people especially began to do this during the blackout because there were a wide range of individuals in the tlou fandom uploading fics and such while it was ongoing, robbing the blackout of purpose, which is not at all okay.

listen, i so want to feel for you as the person i am, but i really don’t. not at all. if you’re no longer in the mood to read a fic once you see a post about palestine, good. it’s not supposed to be a comfortable thing to witness. it’s a genocide that’s ensuing as i speak. it’s a genocide that was ongoing when you sent me this ask. i understand the want to escape for a little bit in fics, believe me, i do. but that shouldn’t render you devoid of compassion for the people in gaza. if you’re angered by such a small inconvenience, put yourself in the shoes of the millions of people who are experiencing what you’re seeing behind a screen as you read this. i don’t know you and i don’t know where your beliefs lie on the matter, but this ask indicates that they’re, at least to some degree, morally flawed. i hope this response can assist you to revise your thinking, and to do better as a general consensus.

#kitlyn’s anons ♡#the last of us #tlou #tlou2 #ellie williams #ellie williams fic #abby anderson #abby anderson fic #the last of us fic #free palestine #palestine #gaza #free gaza

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merlin-gotcha4gaza · 5 months ago

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Merlin Gotcha for Gaza Creator Sign ups!

Because of the positive response to the interest check, I’m going ahead with creator sign ups for this event. For this event the primary hope is to get people who would be willing to write fics, create fanart, and/or create fan edits. However if there is another kind of fan content that you would like to offer to create for this event then please feel free to sign up as well!

The link below is for the creator sign up form. If you want to be a creator for this event then please fill it out to the best of your abilities. Once you’ve submitted it, please take a screenshot and dm it to me (if you can’t send a picture then just send me a dm saying you completed it) and I will send you the link to join the discord server for this event.

Please share this post so everyone who was interested can see it and sign up!!!

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damnfandomproblems · 4 months ago

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755659384087019520

Going around filters isn't just a problem with fic (etc) content, but with fundraisers. Someone will make a post about needing money on tumblr, The Fandom Website, then ask people to "not tag as mutual aid, signal boost, etc". And everyone obeys. And I'm like. Do not pass go, do not collect $200. Let people have one space where they don't get burnout from seeing constant "I'm dying sick etc help me" posts. Half of them are scams anyways, especially now. There are so many Gaza related asks and posts being absentmindedly boosted, there is so much naivety, and that wouldn't be horrible if I could just avoid it all, but none of this stuff is being tagged, it's just being forced down peoples' throats with the "don't look away" line. I want to scream. Not to play the "sanctity of fandom" card, but can we not?

Posting as a response to a previous ask.

#fandom problem 5245 #response to previous problem #response to previous ask #mod sf

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irisintheafterglow · 1 year ago

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INCOMING TRANSMISSION: hi, welcome to my blog! take a look around, hopefully you find something you like :) feel free to send me a message if you have a request or just to say hi. thank you!

NEWEST PUBLICATIONS:

let me love you again - (pro!shoto x reader) exes to lovers with a tasteful amount of iris' own brain workings

a kaiju attack spoils date night with bf!hoshina. he is so pissed.

just too soft for all of it - you only call pro!bakugo when you need his body. what happens when you need him for a different reason? (mdni, fwb to lovers)

FICS FOR GAZA MASTERPOST

STATION ARCHIVE

requests are currently: TEMPORARILY CLOSED

what i write: my hero academia, haikyu, demon slayer (primarily pillars only), marvel comics + mcu, jujutsu kaisen, one piece live action, blue lock, windbreaker

my favorites! suguru, satoru, inumaki (jjk) // sakusa, atsumu, kuroo (hq) // rengoku, sanemi (kny) // zoro (opla) // dabi, bakugo, hawks, kirishima (bnha) // bachira <3 (bllk) // suo, umemyia (windbreaker)

what i don't write: smut, noncon/dubcon, suggestive stuff for minor (< 18) characters, poly relationships, heavy angst (character/reader death, suic!dal thoughts, addiction, etc), fics with specific details about reader

UPON ENTERING THIS STATION, YOU AGREE TO THE FOLLOWING RULES:

I don't do taglists, sorry!

keep it positive, this blog is just for fun

i post my own thoughts or memes on this blog every so often, so keep in mind it won't always be fics

if you have a question or a suggestion please let me know

this blog is NOT spoiler free!

i write most of my fics to be "____ x gn!reader" but sometimes there will be implied fem!reader

unless it is time sensitive, my blog runs on a perpetual queue! so it may not seem like i answer your ask/see a notif immediately but rest assured i do!

i reserve the right to block or delete asks that i feel uncomfortable with

blog rules and what i write for or not are subject to change without notice.

TAGS GUIDE:

#ask iris! - any and all responses to inbox asks will be tagged here including but not limited to fic requests and feedback

#iris' recs! - search this tag if you want to see me go feral over some of my favorite pieces by other authors

#iris rambles! - memes and opinions!

#iris's games! - dash games and tag games

#iris updates! - periodical update posts for fics and breaks/hiatuses

if you enjoy my writing and would like to support me, you can buy me a coffee on my ko-fi! commissions and nsfw requests can be sent through my fiverr! you can also check out my full masterlist here :)

#irisintheafterglow masterlist #navigation

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miradelalune · 2 months ago

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For @orv-gotcha-for-gaza project to support Palestine! Just a little fic I wrote when i had time over the course of two months. :). I hope the person who asked for this enjoys it!

Prompt: Kim Dojka falls asleep on Yoo Joonghyuk’s shoulder. Yoo Joonghyuk feels things.

The fire heartily crackled in the bonfire as laughter carried throughout the encampment. Everyone was laughing and talking, sharing drinks, glad that the Demon Castle was over (for most of them, at least). Even among those who were soon going to the third floor, the atmosphere was cheerful. Lee Hyunsung, Jung Heewon, and Yoo Sangah were engaged in cheerful conversation, and the children were playing some sort of card game, on the verge of yet another fight

Looking out onto the scene, Yoo Joonghyuk was reminded of the reasons why he chose to regress, again and again: to see the small moments of happiness shared between his teammates, even if they were not the same ones he had once suffered with. Of course this time, it was all thanks to him…

“I need to set out to find Han Sooyoung soon.” Kim Dokja said, breaking the silence between the two. Seolhwa had gotten up to get more drinks for them, and the two were alone now.

“Are you that intent on having her for the third floor?” he asked.

“She’s vital for what I need to do.” the man responded without elaboration. Kim Dokja took a sip from his beer, as if that had answered his question. He looked up at Joonghyuk with an unwavering gaze. “May I ask you a question?”

“Yes, but-” Joonghyuk said.

“Am I really a companion to you? ” He blurted out. He looked down, nervous for the response that awaited him.

A companion?

Joonghyuk looked down, startled. It was the word he had used for Kim Dojka, one he had said even without thought as he defended his group from enemy after enemy. But why?

Even now, he still did not understand Kim Dokja. Every scenario they had passed, he always had a plan, a way out that even stunned the Dokkaebi. His prowess as a prophet seemed even greater than Anna Crofts’...which still bothered him.

He knew that Kim Dokja was hiding something from him. As a regressor, Yoo Junghyuk had lived through enough rounds to be able to tell when someone was lying. And Kim Dokja was definitely hiding some things about his attributes. His true attributes.

Thump. Yoo Joonghyuk felt a weight against his side. One that was warm. Face burning, he looked over.

On Joonghyuk’s left shoulder, Kim Dokja’s head rested, tilted slightly towards his chest. His eyes were closed, and he appeared to be sound asleep.

He flinched before taking a deep breath, trying to steady his feelings. His eyes fixed on the campfire and the night sky. How had he fallen asleep so suddenly? To him, it had always seemed like for Kim Dokja, everything was always accounted for, under control.

Then again, the man had just come back from the dead…it made perfect sense that he was exhausted, Joonghyuk was simply being unreasonable. Moving on to more practical matters, he should probably wake Dokja up now.

Looking down, he was surprised by how peaceful he looked. The warm firelight certainly had done him a service, softening his features.

The regressor reached his available hand towards Dojka, about to give him a gentle shake to wake him up…but he just couldn’t bring himself to. He found himself gently brushing a stray hair that had fallen in front of Kim Dojka’s face instead. His stomach felt oddly light and jittery. Dammit. Maybe he could let him sleep for a little while.

His thoughts circled back to Kim Dojka’s question. He was surprised he did not have a logical answer. From past experiences, it might’ve served Joonghyuk better to betray Kim Dojka by now. He still remembered the searing pain of his own sword slicing into his shoulder, her unwavering gaze as she turned against him.

But Kim Dojka was different. Unlike all his other teammates whom he had fought with before, the at first unimpressive man he had met on the bridge was someone new. Things had changed because of him. The reason they were all there now, alive and happy was because of Dojka’s painstaking plans. This round was unique, unlike anything before.

And yet Joonghyuk knew there was something else. When Dojka talked to members of the party, whether it be to resolve the kids’ petty fights or delegate patrol, there was always a sort of affection in his eyes, even if he was annoyed or angry. Almost as if he was simply happy to be there. Kim Dojka wanted to see the end of the scenarios with his companions. All of them. It certainly helped that he was strategic, witty, warm-hearted, liked children, smelled a bit like fresh laundry…

Besides him, Kim Dojka shifted, drawing his shoulders closer together, a faint frown on his face. The temperature had dropped as night fell and now the air was biting and frigid. He was probably cold by now. He began to take off his black coat, but Dojka stirred, freezing him in his place. For a fleeting moment, he considered wrapping his arm around the sleeping man, to feel the steady rise and fall of his breath, but he quickly dismissed the idea; it would most likely wake him up.

It seemed there was only one option: the shop. With a sigh, he brought up the virtual window with his free hand, trying to move his arm as little as possible. After scrolling through the survival essential tools, he selected the Deluxe Fluffy Throw. His finger hovered over the cream option for a second (it was for Dojka, after all) before finding himself with an ink black bundle on his lap with 3000 less coins in his account.

He was about to simply spread the blanket on Dojka’s lap but stopped. With the man’s slightly hunched posture, he could see that Kim Dojka’s back would still be exposed, defeating the purpose altogether. That was a mistake of a mere noob that he had learned long ago with Yoo Mia. In one deft gesture, he brought the throw around both of their backs, wrapping both him and Dojka on either side so that they shared the blanket.

[Constellation Demon-Like Judge of Fire is squealing in joy!]

[1,000 coins have been donated]

“Please stop Uriel. We’re not even in a scenario...don’t you have better things to do?”

[Constellation Demon-Like Judge of Fire says that nothing is better in her life than watching this.]

Joonghyuk sighed, covering his face with his hands. Sometimes he felt that he was the only real adult in the entire Star Stream. Now with no one to talk to and no way to train, he was a bit at a loss on what to do.

“Whooo!!! Jihye for the win!!” shrieked Lee Jihye. Looking up, he could see why Seolhwa hadn’t returned: Kim Dojka’s Company had started a game of Spoons. The victor stood with her hands in the air, holding two metal spoons in the air, the playing cards scattered around her. The Han Sooyoung looked downright incredulous, with the young author still flat on the ground after losing the tug-of-war for the last spoon, while Seolhwa, the other loser, smiled bemusedly at the scene.

His feelings about Lee Seolhwa were beyond complicated. During his second regression, he had grown to even declare her as his lover. However, while her beauty was identical from the last regression, from her silky white hair that shimmered like a pearl, to her cherry red lips, Joonghyuk no longer loved her romantically. He saw his old lover in her at moments, but his Lee Seolhwa had forever vanished.

Joonghyuk looked down. With Dojka laying absolutely still, inches away, he could fully see the man’s face. He was beautiful, his skin a soft porcelain despite more plain features. He could see each individual eyelash softly curled, the small part of his lips that were ever so slightly opened.

Joonghyuk knew that he had caught glimpses before, in brief moments of respite, but after the fact when he tried to recall the exact features, he couldn’t picture anything but a blurry smudge. He wanted to keep the memory of that face.

He sat there for a while, gazing at Kim Dojka. The heated rounds of Spoon slowly wound down as he heard the shouts and laughter dwindling to low chatter.

He blinked, suddenly cold. Only amber-orange coals remained from the once blazing bonfire. His eyelids felt leaden with fatigue. It was time for both of them to go to bed.

Ever so carefully, he picked up Kim Dojka, fully wrapping him in the blanket. No one was awake now, save for a few people on night watch. He could hear the grass being crushed under his boots as he approached Kim Dojka’s tent. Joonhyuk began to part the fabric that served as the entrance, he felt the weight in his arms shift.

Kim Dojkas’ eyes were half open and his expression one of vague confusion, senses clearly dulled by the chloroform of sleep. He parted his lips to speak, but Joonghyuk interrupted him mid- word.

“You fell asleep. I was going to put you to bed.” He stated. He laid Kim Dojka in bed and covered him with a blanket. As Dojka’s eyes began to close, he paused and turned around.

“I consider you my companion because you mean something to me, Kim Dojka.” He said.

Without further ado, he walked out into the night before he could regret what he said, flustered but at content. He could remember Dojka's face. The face of someone he loved.

#sorry for two posts in one day - i jad to post this b4 the deadline #free gaza #orv fanfic #omniscient reader's viewpoint #writeblr #orv gatcha for gaza #fan project

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