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tragedykery · 2 years ago

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you wanna ramble about some of your visions of the little guys? because i would Love to hear <333 (also feel free to ignore this if you don't want to, haha!!!)

thank you so so much for sending this ask ily <333 and I am. so so so sorry this started out as just a short stating of facts but then it began to lead a life of its own (uh cw for animal death)

ok for background info I’ve got this post here with a character list doc etc but it’s not really necessary to understand this

anyway I’ll be talking about sita (tag) bc I love her <3

in the kyoshi novels it’s said that all air nomads are benders but I think that’s stupid. there definitely are air nomad non-benders but they’re uncommon and generally don’t live in the temples.

sita is one of those non-benders. as she grows up in the eastern air temple, she practices the katas and fighting style just as hard as the other kids—maybe even harder—but no matter how hard she tries, she cannot get the air to move as it does for her peers. she feels like an outsider. there’s one other non-bender girl there, but she’s a few years older. they play together a lot, and it helps, but when the girl leaves to travel the world, sita is left behind, and she feels more alone than she ever has before.

she knows it’s not the fault of the her friend or other nuns, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt. so one day, when she just can’t take it anymore, she stuffs her bag with food and all the airbending scrolls she can find (she cannot kill the hope inside her that maybe if she practices hard enough…). she gets her bison and flies away.

(she’s sixteen.)

she tries to find her old friend, but she could be anywhere. so she explores the world, and she’s happier than she’s been in a long time.

however, one day, her bison gets sick. she’s camping somewhere on an island in the fire nation, but no one there knows how to help her. she sets out toward the eastern air temple, but as they’re flying over the sea, they get caught in a storm. she worries they’re not going to survive, but by some stroke of luck, they get rescued by a bunch of seafarers on a ship called the ziyou. they’re friendly, and the captain promises to take care of them for as long as they need, but sita was right about one thing. her bison doesn’t survive.

taituk, the captain, promises they’ll drop her off at the nearest port, but.

she has no reason to go to the air temples now. it would only stir up painful memories. and her chances of finding her old friend, alone in the earth kingdom, on foot, are practically zero. she thinks about it.

she knows the crew she had initially thought to be regular seafarers are pirates. but they’re not like what she has heard about pirates. when she experiences a raid (she isn’t expected to participate and can just hide in the room she’s been staying in) she listens anxiously. she can hear taituk give the crew a sort of pep talk, and hears them tell the crew, with the practised ease of someone who has given a speech a thousand times before, to not hurt anyone unless absolutely necessary. “surrender and no harm will come to you,” she hears taituk call out to people on the other ship. and when the merchant ship’s captain surrenders, they follow through on their word.

she gets to know the crew. she learns about their motives, how they’re all outcasts, how they only attack the ships of rich merchants or other pirates, how most of them turned to piracy because there was no other option, to feed themselves and in some cases their families too.

maybe, sita thinks, she can figure out how to make this work.

—

sita’s been on the ziyou for almost two years. she’s gotten good at incorporating the fighting skills she’s learned on the ship into the air nomad fighting style she has such extensive knowledge of. she learns she has a talent for using projectile weapons—though nisha remains the best with throwing knives, she’s easily the second best, and her handiness with a bow and arrows more than makes up for it. she’s decent with a spear too, though she’s more defensive with it than the girl who teaches her, aki, would like.

(the cook, chusak, offers to teach her his weird fighting style of throwing pans at people, but she turns him down. that’s just weird and impractical and more often than not leaves people with bruises, concussions, or broken bones. well, she doesn’t need to learn to use every possible projectile weapon.)

she might not be able to bend air like she had always wished (and still wishes) she could, but as she pins an enemy to the mast with nothing more than a flick of her wrist or the release of a taut bowstring, or feels the salty wind ruffle her hair as she stands in the crow’s nest, she finds she doesn’t mind her lack of bending as much as she used to. she’s made peace with it.

she’s still shocked, though, when one day during a raid (the captain refused to surrender, proud as the beifongs he works for), she looks over her shoulder and sees a woman floating several feet above the deck. her eyes are closed and her long hair whips in the wind, and while she’s wearing earth kingdom clothing and doesn’t have any tattoos, there’s no way she’s not an airbender.

“what’s an airbender doing on a ship like that?” she muses to taituk as they’re hauling boxes of loot onto their own ship. “she must be powerful. to lift yourself into the air and create a storm like that takes a lot of strength.” (no one knows, of course, that was the avatar state, and they don’t realise it for a long time.)

“well, whatever the case, we’re lucky chusak knocked her out,” nisha grumbles. she turns to show the two of them a nasty-looking gash on her shoulder. “she almost got me with one of her own knives.”

taituk pulls a face. “ouch. well, better go see mallik, then.” nisha rolls her eyes and grumbles something sarcastic before walking off, but before sita can tease taituk about being “romantic” (she doesn’t have proof yet, but she knows!), taituk says, frowning, “iraluq said they seemed scared, though. the airbender I mean. scared and confused, as they threw up their arms and knocked her ice daggers away. as if they didn’t know what they had what they done or how.”

sita’s still pondering that over a few hours later, when she hears shouting on the other side of the ship. she rushes there to investigate. she makes her way through the crowd that has gathered on the deck. “what’s happen–”

she falls silent as she sees the airbender standing pressed against the wall, terrified.

“everyone give us some space!” taituk calls. “go on with what you were previously doing. nothing to see here.”

“what happened?” sita whispers to nuvuja, who’s, for some reason, is opening all the crates they had gotten from the raid and checking their contents.

nuvuja’s reply is brisk. “xuan managed to accidentally kidnap a person.”

“how?!”

nuvuja slams the crate she’d been rummaging through shut and opens the next one. “he was supposed to help check the loot but got lazy. just carried crates onto the ship without checking if their contents were the same as the labels. and apparently the airbender fell into a crate of rice when she got knocked out by chusak. lid slammed shut. we just found out while getting stuff for dinner.”

she grimaces as she looks over at the airbender. taituk is speaking to her softly, and while she looks less scared than before, her eyes are full of tears. “poor girl,” nuvuja murmurs. “we’ve got no clue where her ship is now. stranded on a ship in the middle of the sea with a bunch of pirates. she must be terrified.”

sita thanks nuvuja, and walks off to join taituk. maybe she can help.

—

apparently the airbender—hira—does not, in fact, know she is one. or she didn’t, until now. she and sita become fast friends. sita’s a friendly presence, a reassuring constant in the scary period waiting hira’s caught in until they reach land.

“I guess I should go to one of the temples, huh?” hira says a few days after her arrival on the ship. she tries for humour, but sounds breathless. scared. “if I want to learn”—she hesitates for a moment—“bending.”

she’d been both scared and elated to learn she was a bender. apparently she’s grown up as an orphan with no knowledge of her heritage.

“I can try to teach you some stuff, if you want,” sita offers.

hira’s eyes widen. “you’re an airbender too?!”

sita tries to keep the bitterness out of her voice. “no.” she tries for a smile. “but I grew up in the temples, so I know a few things.”

(she knows more than a few things.)

—

it’s weird, teaching someone to bend when sita can’t herself, but they make it work. hira’s a prodigy, easily executing techniques sita remembers took the other girls at the temple months to master. (techniques sita will never be able to do.) sita can help her, teach her, in a way hira will never be able to do for her. you can’t give someone bending, after all.

they meditate together, and cook air nomad recipes with chusak’s help. she teaches hira to read, write and speak the most common air nomad languages, and hira teaches her her earth kingdom town’s language in return.

it would be so easy to be jealous of hira. and maybe she is jealous, just a little. but she doesn’t let that jealousy fester, doesn’t let it turn into resentment. she won’t ever be able to bend, but she can be proud of hira, can be happy for her. can laugh with her as they mess up the recipe for fruit pies and smile at her when she masters yet another kata. she can participate in her culture with another air nomad, one who she knows won’t judge her for being a non-bender. (she spent the first twenty-seven years of her life as one, after all.)

and it will be enough.

(she doesn’t know that hira is jealous of her in the same way, for growing up in the temples. (hira’s spent her whole life wanting nothing more than connection with her culture.) but much in the same way, hira doesn’t allow her jealousy to lead her. she and sita are both air nomads who will always be a little bit of an outsider, and they’ll have to stick together. it’s not just that, though. she likes being around this chatty, lively kid (“I’m eighteen!” sita always protests). she likes to gossip with her and sit in the crow’s nest together and play silly games and have competitions who have climb the masts the fastest. sita is one of the main reasons hira decides to stay when the ziyou reaches the port taituk had promised they’d drop her off at.)

(the rest of the crew notices, that since hira’s arrival, sita seems happier than she’s ever been.)

#they are sososo dear to me <33333 #elli replies #corey tag #ask #again thank you SO much for sending this ask and I am SO sorry #oc tag #the birates #wind in the sails #sita #hira #oc rambles #hira & sita #that said. there’s a certain hilarity in the avatar’s airbending master (and later spiritual master) being a 18-19 yo kid who is not in fact #a bender #another random scene is taituk (who’s like a love interest for hira but in a decidedly polyam & also aspec way) making hira beaded earrings #the way they learned from their mother (who’s an artist/crafts…woman?)#they’re air nomad symbols but in both earth kingdom and air nomad colours #and maybe also simple mandalas?#they made them during their stay at the south pole for hira’s waterbending training #they asked sita for help with the ideas/designs <3 #the reason for the earth kingdom colours is that taituk wants to help her realise that the culture of the earth kingdom town is just as much #*her* culture as the air nomad one if she wants it to be #I have another scene in my head about that which is that taituk’s sitting on the floor in the qasgiq trying to carve something for hira #a cousin of theirs sees and teases her like ‘oooh are you gonna propose?’ ‘you know damn well engagement necklaces aren’t a thing in our #tribe.’ (grinning) ‘yeah but /she/ doesn’t. and you never know what she might have heard about water tribe marriage customs. where did you #say she grew up again?’ ‘…the northwestern earth kingdom.’ ‘ha! I knew it you’re in love with the new girl! oh [other cousin] owes me five #strips of seal jerky!’ (runs off) (taituk rubbing their temples wondering why they had to be both the eldest sibling AND eldest cousin)#(but they’re also smiling)

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witchyvixie · 2 years ago

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Made an accent for my friend's sona dragon which is the first I've made in a long time and now I'm starting to think how fun it'd be if I gave each of my dragons a unique accent and omg my wallet is crying

#I'm not really good enough to sell my accent designs but I can do simple custom orders that roughly match the site style #and I'd love to put more of myself into each of my dragons #but I already need.. I think over 10kg just for genes rn. so. not feasible #flight rising

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lijoue · 2 months ago

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Better Pool Floats

Hello I have a cute little mod I'm really excited to share with you! It started with a simple little inner tube, but I became so obsessed it turned into a whole pool float overhaul.

01 / Custom Animation Overrides

I really love using pool floats, but I always thought the default sitting pose was quite boring and stiff. So I've created new custom animations for the “relax” and “nap” interactions for adults and children. The pose is much more relaxed and natural now.

I chose not to override every animation, so you can still play the original EA version if you choose “sunbathe”. Since I didn’t override every animation, there will be some jumpy transitions between the EA pose and the relaxed pose. It’s particularly noticeable if the sim has a drink while relaxing, because there are a lot of different drink animations. There may also be some clipping or small imperfections.

02 / Improved Locomotion

I didn’t like how quickly the pool float would spin around and drift away, so I adjusted the movement speed to be much slower. Now it gently floats at a more natural pace.

03 / Custom Tuning Override

This will override the gameplay functionality for all pool floats in the game, including any cc that uses the default object_SitLoungeFloat tuning. I refined a lot of little details to improve the overall gameplay experience.

"Relax" now restores a bit of energy and fun, and also reduces negative buffs.

New "Relax Nude" interaction

Tired sims won't autonomously go to nap in the pool instead of like, a bed or sofa.

Sims won't always fall asleep after relaxing. Now they'll only fall asleep if they're tired, bored, lazy or drunk. (You can still manually use the nap interaction though.)

Removed the “scared” buffs and fear triggers. I found it annoying my sims would frequently develop a fear of swimming after relaxing on a pool float. Make it make sense EA!

Other small changes that no one will even notice

Bonus / Italia Classic Pool Float (Requires Riviera Retreat)

I originally designed this pool float for my upcoming Italia Tartosa World, but I'm sharing it early so you can enjoy it now. Just to be clear, my cc float is not required for the other features of the mod. And the mod features will work with floats from other packs like Island Living as well.

This mod is in early Access until 14/10/24. I worked really hard on this so I appreciate your patience and support ♡

DOWNLOAD

Enjoy ♡

#sims 4 creator #the sims 4 #sims 4 cc #the sims cc #ts4 custom content #sims 4 mods #sims 4 gameplay #ts4 cc #ts4 maxis match #sims 4 custom content

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saturngalore · 2 months ago

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presenting...the Lady Tigra Collection - a collaboration between me & @sims4bradshaw 🐅

this collection is a homage to black hoochie culture and freaknik aesthetics of the 1990s/early 2000s. it was like a dream come true to finally make a maxis match version of such iconic hairs like the one worn by natalie desselle-reid’s character in the iconic movie, B.A.P.S. (1997). in-depth details are below and i hope y’all like what we made! <3

pls download @sims4bradshaw’s side here!

download my side via simsfileshare (sfs) or patreon - ALWAYS FREE

for this collection, i created 3 updos and a nail set: swing my way, freak like me, natalie baps, and my boo nails. the swing my way updo is a simple updo with a curly bun atop of the head and single curl framing the face while the freak like me updo is a longer version but with hair down the back. the natalie baps updo consists of double curly buns with a curly strand underneath each bun. the my boo nails are a 90s-inspired french tip nail set with 11 swatches for 4 different skin color options. the leopard print swatches were designed by sims4bradshaw while i did the rest. it’s my first time making nails so pls keep that mind as the quality is especially low in game when viewing them up close. sorry!

base game compatible (bgc)

maxis palette (24 swatches)

46 swatches for the my boo nail set

teen-elder

fem frame (enabled for both)

not hat compatible (some accessories can fit!)

ear and back clipping might occur especially with the freak like me updo!

custom thumbnails

disallowed for random

all lods

please tag me if you do use my cc! i would absolutely love to see it! also, please let me know if you encounter any issues with my cc! here’s my tou.

tysm to cc rebloggers! @public-ccfinds @sssvitlanz

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windupsproutdesigngallery · 2 years ago

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Birds in Love Red Heart Premium T-Shirt | Custom Women's T-Shirt | Simple Valentine Shirt

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honeytonedhottie · 9 months ago

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how to be rich and luxurious⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🌺

we must first understand that being rich is a state of mind. you could be broke and not poor. never poor. poor is a state of mind. and that choice that u make to be rich or poor is ultimately yours cuz u control ur thoughts.

so how do we radiate luxury and become luxurious? through having luxurious thoughts. we know that what we think manifests so lets think things that make us richer in every aspect of our lives.

LUXURY IS AN ENERGY ;

when you exude the energy of luxury, YOU’LL ALWAYS BE LUXURIOUS. the luxury that u exude will manifest. thoughts manifest. have luxurious thoughts -> a luxurious reality WILL manifest. its rly that simple ✨

CULTIVATING LUXURY ENERGY ;

u cultivate luxury energy, like i mentioned before, through luxury thoughts. but if ur not used to thinking luxury thoughts/have a lack or poverty mindset, here are some affirmations to start and guide thinking.

im grateful that im so abundant and rich in the things that i love

im like barbie cuz i have more then enough of everything

i have SO much, that i can bless others with my riches

i live my life lavishly

you can cultivate luxury by doing things that make u feel rich and luxurious. some things that help me to feel that way are.

drinking drinks from a designated cup or wine-glass

silky robes are EVERYTHING. or wearing lingerie and matching bra and panty sets

consistently practicing self care every single day

wearing jewelry

ofc everyone has different things that make them feel rich and different classifications for what luxury is and isn’t and that’s your choice to make ultimately.

i recommend making a list of what makes u feel luxurious and doing that often. literally when i go to costco or a whole-sale store and have free samples i feel luxurious 😭 bcuz im INDULGING.

that goes to show that u dont need to do the most to feel luxurious right at this moment. and that leads me to my next point.

INDULGE YOURSELF ;

don’t deny yourself the things that u desire and the things that you want. if u want ur fun little drink, have ur fun little drink. get ur nails done, take urself shopping every now and then. if u can’t afford to get these done, do it yourself.

you have the ability to make yourself feel special and luxurious. the idea to this is to cultivate the feeling of being rich or the feeling of abundance and luxury.

start a collection that you can have a lot of, change the perspective in which u see the things that u already own. kind of like seeing a cup have full then a cup half empty?

THINGS TO BE RICH IN ;

be rich in knowledge, be rich in culture, be rich in relationships, be rich in beauty. be rich in whatever interests that u might have.

to be rich in knowledge -> seek higher education, study, read lots of books, start writing and seeking knowledge in whatever interests you

to be rich in culture -> learn more about ur own culture and the culture of other people. explore and educate yourself on religion and customs that interest you. be well versed in another language or in something that’s important in todays media and pop culture

to be rich in relationships -> don’t close yourself up to meaningful relationships that you have. don’t take everything seriously and practice being social.

to be rich in beauty -> take impeccable care of yourself and your body. pamper yourself every single day and pick up habits that serve the highest good for your appearance.

to be rich in ur interests -> become well versed as i said before in whatever it is that interests you. there are countless resources online that can help give you information and direction on going about ur interests.

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joemama-2 · 2 months ago

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somethin' sweet

synopsis: you own a five-star renowned restaurant that is extremely hard to get into. business is great, the customers love it. everything is as perfect as can be. that is until a harsh food critic leaves you a bad review. you're stuck with a dilemma, let this one review overcome you. or.....fuck him so he can change it. tags: smut, sort of public sex, vaginal penetration, oral, gojo is kind of mean and annoying, praise, degradation, doggy, missionary, cunnilingus, dividers by @cafekitsune word count: 6370

The one time you’re not here, the one time you actually listen to everyone’s complaints about taking time to yourself because you overwork way too much. The one time you use your PTO to vacation to Bali for a week,

A distinguished critic visits your restaurant.

You stare down at the screen in your hands, having not at all prepared for this news to be brought on you as soon as you enter. Its words stare back at you, taunting you almost. You’re half tempted to throw it across the kitchen, but that would be another expense added to your list of supplies you needed to buy for the upcoming month.

“What day did he come?” you ask as your pointer finger scrolls the screen, reading more of the nasty review that was left.

“A Saturday. None of us even knew he was coming.” Mayra, your head sous chef, replies. The rest of the staff stands around. Some in nervousness, anticipation, and even anger at the predicament. “We sat him on the top. Even made sure he had the whole floor to himself.”

The top floor, strictly reserved for distinguished guests who waited on your month long reservation list, or for those who would simply buy it out for the night. Your top floor is constantly raved about in the media, sometimes for its lavishness and other times in jealousy. Long story short, the top floor is for the best of the best.

And they gave him that.

But it seems he didn’t care for that at all.

“If you’re in the mood for a culinary adventure that feels more like a misadventure, look no further than Lovely Haven, the so-called “fusion” restaurant that blends American comfort food with Italian classics. Unfortunately, the only thing they seem to have fused successfully is disappointment and confusion. The result is a dismal failure that feels like a cruel joke on the palate, this is what happens when culinary confusion collides with utter mediocrity.

Let’s start with the decor—an odd mix of rustic Italian charm and the kind of neon signs you'd find in a questionable diner. It’s as if someone couldn’t decide whether to create a romantic trattoria or a roadside burger joint. The atmosphere is confusing, much like the menu.”

You scoff as you read this part to yourself. The decor? The decor was one of the things almost every customer raved about. Its bright lights mixed with sleek and stainless furniture was the epitome of success. Going as far as bugging your interior designer for days, even weeks on end, to get it down to the T.

Secondly, mediocre? How dare he? You’ve been in the culinary arts for over two decades now, and so has your staff. You were very nitpicky and quite a perfectionist when assembling your employees for your place of solace. Your 5-star Michelin restaurant, yes, 5-star. It only took two years to achieve that goal, which placed you as the quickest growing restaurant in your area. And he’s treating it like you’re nothing but a simple Applebee’s or Chili’s.

The balls on this man.

“Now, onto the menu—a dizzying array of choices that reads like a desperate attempt at creativity gone horribly awry. The lasagna burger is a prime example of this misguided ambition. It arrives as a soggy monstrosity, with layers of pasta and a sad, overcooked beef patty that would make even the most forgiving diner weep. It’s a culinary abomination, devoid of flavor and entirely forgettable.

Then there are the “famous” Alfredo fries, which manage to be both an insult to fries and Alfredo sauce. The dish is an affront to all things Italian and American, featuring limp, greasy fries drowning in a thick, tasteless goo that resembles some sort of industrial paste. It’s a disgrace, and I genuinely questioned whether anyone in the kitchen had ever tasted actual food before.”

By this point, your grip has tightened on the Ipad, jaw clenching and brows furrowing. This man, he really, really was an asshole. Disrespecting your hard-working kitchen staff was a low blow that you took personally. “How long did it take to get his food out to him?”

“Twenty minutes, Y/N.” Luke, one of the managers, replies. “I timed it and made sure it was prepared before the other guests who were dining.”

So not only was he being treated like a princess, but the other customers, who probably got there before him, received their food after he was served. All for the sake of him not reviewing your restaurant’s “unkempt timeliness”.

You continue to read the last few paragraphs while your stomach twists and turns.

“Service, predictably, matched the culinary catastrophe. Our server was inattentive and seemed more interested in their phone than in providing any semblance of hospitality. Drinks took an eternity to arrive—warm, naturally, because why would you expect cold beverages at a restaurant?

Dessert? Oh, you mean the “Tiramisu Sundae”? It’s a ghastly creation that defies logic, featuring layers of sad, mushy sponge cake drowned in what could only be described as a failed attempt at chocolate syrup. The entire dish is an insult to the beloved Italian classic, tasting more like a punishment than a treat.

In conclusion, Lovely Haven is not just a failure; it’s a disgrace to the culinary arts. If you value your taste buds and your sanity, steer clear of this pitiful excuse for a restaurant. Save your money and your appetite for a place that actually understands food. You deserve better.”

The silence that follows is harsh, awaiting a potential outburst from you. You lift your head and swivel around to glare at the group around you. “Who served him?”

Hesitance replies back, some of your staff looking down as though the ground seems more interesting than your death glare. It isn’t until you ask the question again, in a firmer tone, does Mayra respond. “Susan.”

Jesus christ.

As if things couldn’t be worse, who’s bright idea was it to decide that the slacking employee serves your distinguished guest. The one person who has been trying your presence since she was hired. “Where is—”

You’re disrupted by the kitchen door opening, the problem herself walking through with earbuds in and of course, scrolling on her phone. As she looks up and sees the numerous amount of eyes on her, her steps falter. Confusion sparks through her expression, but as soon as you step forward, it begins to click.

“You’re thirty minutes late, I put you on opening because you said you couldn’t close anymore.” You don’t even have it in you to lighten your tone, eyes narrowed and voice clipped in annoyance, frustration. “Your performance has been lacking for months now, do you have anything to say for yourself?”

Ever the brat she is, her arms cross. “I’m a busy college student, I have other priorities and things on my mind unlike the rest of you.”

“And I understand that,” you snap back.”But there is a difference between having other priorities and simply not caring. You don’t listen, you show up late, and you’re using your phone while you’re on the floor. Do you understand how extremely disrespectful that is?”

A moment of silence passes as she seems to formulate what to say in her mind. “I jus—”

“You’re fired.” you cut her off. “Your last check will be deposited within 24 hours, do not come back and if you do, I’ll have you arrested for trespassing.”

Luke and Mayra, along with your other manager, Ren, sit next to you in your office. Computer screen displayed in front of you four while your fingers type away. Mayra glances at your focused expression before back at the screen. “Do you really think he’ll reply back? Critics don’t usually come to review a place for a second time, especially one they strongly advised against.”

“I don’t care,” you murmur, eyes not straying from the email you’re drafting out. “Out of the seven years we’ve been operating, we haven’t had a single bad review. And now, this entitled ass thinks just because he gets paid to eat and critic, he can ruin our reputation.”

Ren sighs, hand lifted to his forehead. “Y/N, it’s okay. One bad review doesn’t and won’t define us.”

“Besides, he’s known for being harsh, he does this to everyone,” Luke adds on.

“Even more of a reason for me to do this. I will not allow him to openly disrespect our hard work and dedication like this.”

The three around you give one another a knowing look, right before you click send on the email.

“Hello, Mr. Gojo.

My name is Y/N L/N, I’m the owner of Lovely Haven, a place you recently reviewed. After reading your honest review, I am extremely upset and apologetic for the food and service you received that day. That is not at all what we strive for, and again, I sincerely apologize.

If you would accept, I would like to set up a second visit for you. We are closed on this coming Friday, due to the holiday, but I’d love to personally serve you myself and answer any and all questions you may have regarding Lovely Haven and its history.

Please respond back as soon as you have a moment. Thank you again.

Kindly,

Y/N L/N”

“Hello, Ms. LN,

I appreciate you reaching out to me. I’ll come around 8am on Friday. Thank you.

Sincerely,

Gojo Satoru”

You;ve spent the better half of the past two hours setting up and making sure everything is perfect. You’ll be damned if you have a rerun of last time, especially on your watch. Your staff insisted you don’t handle this alone, urging for at least two cooks to be present. But you refused.

Lovely Haven is your business and creation, your heart. So in a way, you feel as if it’s your job as the owner to make this all right. If anyone can serve this man, it’s you.

You’re dressed formally, hair up (in case he tries to complain about hair in his food). Wearing a simple black dress, modest enough as it reaches your knees. It’s tight, but not too tight. You’re wearing small black heels to match, gold jewelry complimenting the attire.

The clock inches towards 8 and you, for some reason, find yourself feeling oddly nervous. Maybe it’s the anticipation or anxiousness for a second try. Your stomach curls, almost like you’re a lovestruck high schooler seeing her crush in the hallways. Sweaty handles fiddle together in front of you while your eyes dart from the watch on your wrist and the glass front doors.

Either this man had a penchant for being late, or you somehow mixed your days up and he’s not coming today. Dramatically, you check your phone and let out a sigh of relief when you see it’s Friday. Okay, good. Then he’s really just late.

Well, not exactly late. But he said he’d get here at 8, it’s 7:57. Usually people don’t get to places at the time they said, because if he came at 8 exactly, that is late. You should always show up at least five minutes before your estimated arrival time, at least that’s how you thought.

No, that’s how most normal, responsible adults thought.

Maybe he’s not normal. Can’t be if he gave you a one star and brutal review. He’s probably just trying to be different from the rest. And you hate people like that. Shitting on something that is actually good, whether it be a show or movie, simply because everyone else says it's good. And the fact that he’s known for his low reviews is even more infuriating.

There’s no way every place he visits is below three stars. It has to be his taste buds, they’re probably—

“Good morning.”

You snap your head up, completely lost in thought that you didn’t even notice, let alone hear the dreadful man walk in. Already not off to a good start. A smile finds its way on your face, hand held out, to which he shakes. “Good morning, it’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Gojo. I’m Y/N.”

He nods, a small smile reciprocated back. “I figured.”

Is it just you or did he tone sound almost condescending? And that smile on his face seems like he’s the type to think he knows it all.

Nope, don’t do that.

Pulling your hand away after what seems like a longer than usual handshake, you step aside and motion towards the array of tables. “Well, why don’t I show you to your table?”

“Yeah, why don’t you?” he stuffs his hands into the pockets of his slacks, raising a thin, white eyebrow as if to silently urge you to start walking. You hold back an eye twitch, turning around and walking to the area you set up specifically for him.

He’s following behind you as you walk, the heels of your shoes softy clanking against the ceramic tile. As you glance back, you could’ve sworn you saw his eyes quickly raise up to meet yours. Like he was—

“I apologize for not being around last time, I was on vacation.” you say, cutting off your own train of thought that you won’t entertain.

“Ah, no worries. Where did you go?” His pace matches your own now, walking side by side as his arm barely brushes against your bare skin. “Somewhere nice?”

You chuckle lightly and nod. “Yes, I went to Bali. It was quite lovely. The people were very welcoming and the food was absolutely delicious.”

A hum. “Better than this place, I hope.”

That comment. God, that comment. And the fact that he’s hiding it behind his sickeningly sweet smile, a tilt to his voice like he’s joking but not actually joking. You’ll pray for the former. “I can assure you, Mr. Gojo, both residences of food are exquisite.”

You two get to the square table prepared for him. A crisp, white linen tablecloth across the surface, that creates a clean and elegant contrast that elevated the rustic charm. At the center, a simple yet striking centerpiece emerged—a small terracotta pot filled with fresh basil and rosemary, their vibrant green leaves offering a delightful aroma that whispered of Italian kitchens.

Polished silverware gleamed in the soft light, laid out neatly on either side, ready for the culinary delights to come. An elegant, crystal wine glass on the side. Cloth napkins, folded into intricate designs, rested atop his plate. The dual flickering candles in small glass holders cast a warm glow over the table, creating an intimate atmosphere that you hoped would help catch his eye.

Finally, a menu card that displayed the special dishes you had prepared just for him. You took the time out of your day to make this specifically for today, crafting your menu for a man who probably didn’t think twice about it was not on your 2024 bingo card.

He takes his seat as you stand in front of him, placing the menu closer to his reach. “Here we have a variety of our best sellers and limited editions. Just for you, Mr. Gojo.” Your smile gets a little harder to keep up as he lazily sits back in his seat, scanning the menu with his sharp, blue eyes.

“Interesting,” he observes, even flipping it over. He glances back up at you. “The stuffed arancini, is that good?”

“Delicious, sir.”

“Okay,” he looks back down at the menu. “Then I’ll get the Buffalo Cauliflower Bites for an appetizer, plus the Bruschetta Trio. Oh, and to drink, I want one of your craft mocktails.”

So he asks for your opinion, and doesn’t even order it. “Of course, Mr. Gojo.” You don’t write it down, having already committed his order to memory, due to years in the food industry. “I’ll get started on that right now.”

With one more smile, you turn around and head to the kitchen. As soon as the doors close, your face hardens with irritation. Walking around to grab the appropriate ingredients, grumbling to yourself curses. Sure you’ll make his food and smile at him, doesn't mean you won’t be a brat about it behind closed doors.

The minutes Gojo spends alone, he’s meticulously counting them down. Eyebrow raised as he eyes the kitchen doors and the arms of the small clock. Leg crossed over the other with his arm resting on top of the back of his chair that he;s currently tipping back and forth with the stability of his foot.

After about three minutes, you greet him with his mocktail, setting it down. “Here you go, sir.”

“Finally, I almost died of thirst, you know?” He huffs a small chuckle and he sips from the straw. You want to grimace as he swishes the liquid around his mouth, head tilting in dramatics. He’s acting like it’s mouthwash or something. As he swallows, you do your best not to focus on the bobbing of his Adam’s apple.

What do you think you’re doing? Checking him out right now, seriously?

“How is it?” Your voice raises a tad, either in nervousness or a way to calm your suddenly rapid beating heart.

“Not too bad, a little sour for me.” He comments, tongue coming out to lick across his bottom lip. “What’s in it?”

“Basil lemonade and berry spritz, Mr. Gojo.”

“Satoru,” he corrects you, eyes rolling while his hand waves around dismissively. “Stop calling me ‘sir’ and all that, makes me feel old. Besides, this is supposed to feel comfortable isn’t it? Don’t force yourself with the formalities.”

Well, that’s a small breath of relief. You simply nod. “Of course, Satoru. Then you may call me Y/N.”

“Was already gonna do that.”

“Right.”

A small pause follows, hands awkwardly fiddling behind his back. You didn’t even realize it before, but the way he stares feels really invading. Especially with how bright his eyes are, you’re starting to feel naked under his gaze. Like he can sense it, he grins boyishly. “The appetizers?”

You nod again, quicker this time, clearing your throat. “Yes, coming right up.”

And once more, you leave him be while you finish up his food. The bruschetta trio, a classic tomato and basil, roasted red pepper and feta, with wild mushroom and truffle oil topping, served on toasted artisan bread. This dish is loved among your regulars.

And the buffalo cauliflower bites which are spicy, crispy cauliflower tossed in buffalo sauce, served with a side of creamy blue cheese dressing. Perfect for customers with a higher spice tolerance, craving that explosive taste in their mouths.

Holding the two white, glass plates with ease, the doors push open by your back as you walk back over to him. “Bruschetta and the cauliflower, Satoru.”

He doesn’t waste time in taking small, careful bites of each platter. Humming in thought as he does this. It takes a couple minutes before he speaks, using the cloth to wipe at the corner of his mouth. “The mushroom is quite bland, the bread is too hard. And the blue cheese doesn’t go well with the bites.”

Each word is like a punch to your gut. He’s really just finding every little thing to pick at, isn’t he? Lips pursing, your eyebrows raise in faux consideration. “I see, I can remove the dressing for you, and I’ll serve you a softer piece of bread.”

Your hands reach out to take them away, just as his moves into frame. Your fingertips brush against the back of his hand. “No need to take them away, just stating facts.” His smile never seems to leave and each growing second, you feel more and more tempted to wipe it off his face. He gently pushes your hands away, interlacing his fingers together. “Do you expect replacements to suddenly wipe my memory clean? Why should I have to rely on you giving me a replica of what I ordered, when the original piece should’ve met my expectations?”

A little caught off guard by his sudden questioning, you gulp and clear your throat. “Well, if something is not up to par for my guests, it is my duty to replace that with something that is.”

“Sure, but I’m asking why it wasn’t perfect the first time.” He leisurely sips from his mocktail.

A small, but forced laugh leaves your lips. “We do try our best every single time, Satoru. Being perfect has proved hard when everyone has different tastes.”

“So you just give out generic food and hope for the best?”

“Excuse me?”

“You’re excused.”

Your brows begin to furrow at his nonchalance, lip barely quirking down into a frown. “I’m sorry, but our food is not generic. We serve with love and dedication.”

“Love,” he repeats in a mocking tone, picking at the bites with his fork. “This was made with love?”

He’s really getting on your nerves now. “Yes, it was. If you do not like it then I can remake—”

“I’ll take the balsamic glazed chicken,” he cuts you off. “With the alfredo fries. You’re talking about remakes, right? Then make those fries good this time. Thanks.”

You can’t help but stare down at him, the nerve he has is beyond rude. His demanding nature contrasts with your helping one. But, you stay resolute in your politeness, mumbling a small ‘of course’ before disappearing back into the kitchen.

It’s a disaster, truly.

A hard, long, infuriatingly annoying disaster.

Every platter crafted with delicacy and carefulness, he sets aside with calmness. Claiming how the littlest of little things was wrong or how it tasted bad. He even makes a couple snide comments about where you learned to cook from and they should be ashamed.

No matter what, however, he conceals his comments with those stupid laughs you’ve started to despise.

Like it’s funny to him how much you’re failing to please him.

Sweat threatens to trickle down your forehead, using a spare towel to dab at your face. Your hair has started to become a tad unkempt, having to constantly push stray pieces of hair out your face and even grabbing at your hair in frustration. This is probably your own fault for setting this all up, but never did you imagine it would turn out like this.

His table is filled with a variety of plates and dishes stacked unceremoniously on top of each other to make room for the next one.

Throughout it all, he watches your struggle in silent amusement. Everytime you turn around to stomp back into the kitchen, he gets a clear, nice view of the way the fabric of your dress tugs around your ass, legs sleek with whatever lotion you decided to put on.

Your perfume fills his nostrils as you come back to him, to which he feels more and more motivated to bring you down and just stuff his face into the crook of your neck. Or the middle of your plump thighs that have just been calling out to him like a siren.

Satoru would like to think he’s a man of self control, but you’re really pushing him, and you’re not even trying.

He’s being purposeful with his actions just to keep this entire visit long. Just so he can keep checking you out and biting his lip as he inhales your scent. Just so he can have the ample amount of time to force down the boner he has from under the table.

And well, because he’s really, really looking forward to dessert.

You breathe out a heavy breath, one of exhaustion as you present him with yet another platter. He laughs to himself as he takes a bite.

“Meh, too soggy.”

That’s it. “I’ve given you everything on the menu.”

“Oh, have you?” His head tilts innocently.

Your teeth grit. “Yes, I have.”

“Well, that’s a bummer. You really shouldn’t have had such a limited variation.”

“It’s not lim–”

“Dessert, right? That usually comes after the main course.”

“......yes. What would you like?” You’re forcing your words out by now, hands twitching as they threaten to grip his pretty throat.

Wait, pretty?

Jesus christ, can you stop thinking that right now?

“Hmmmm, let’s see here.” As his eyes scan over the desserts listed on the menu, a frown, or a pout, makes way onto his lips. You close your eyes for a second, counting from one to ten and back. “Is this it?”

“Yes.”

“I have to say,” he lowly whistles. “none of this looks very….appealing.” As he looks back up at you, there’s a small glint in his expression. One that almost causes you to shiver, for some reason.

Is he playing with you now?

“Nothing?” You ask, arms crossing over your chest. “All of that is what guests order the most.”

“Well, I’m not some regular schmegular guest, now am I?” He doesn’t give you a chance to respond before he’s standing, one hand stuffed into his pocket while the other meekly points to you. “So, what do you say? You gonna give me something I actually want?”

A small huff escapes from your lips, now longer having the strength to hold back your irritation. “I’m sorry?”

“Oh cmon, don’t give me that.”

“Give you what?”

“That.” He juts his chin in the direction of your scowl. “Do you usually frown at your customers?”

“I frown at men who take my kindness for granted,” is your response, eyes narrowing. “Also, you have been nitpicking every single thing I’ve given you. You’ve been extremely rude about it.”

“Rude? Is honesty rude now? I thought you wanted my honesty.”

“There’s a stark difference between the two.”

“Really?” He leans closer, face teetering on the line of too close as his point finger just barely skims across your forearm. “Mind enlightening me?”

Your breath almost hitches, skin feeling all too warm. You peek down at his finger before back to his face, heart beating faster than normal. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“What’s it look like?” He counters.

“Like you’re trying to flirt with me.”

He barks out a laugh. “Trying? No honey, I am. Why, do you like it?”

“No, I don’t like being flirted with by rude and random men.” You reply, tilting your chin up. “Especially you, sir.”

His grin widens. “Cute. But you know what I don’t like?” As he steps closer, you’re forced to step back. “No dessert.”

His finger travels up your arm, your shoulder, then stops at your jawline, head tilting as his breath fans your cheek. “So, what else can I eat?”

This is stupid. So stupid. Dangerous. Idiotic. Out of character. Anything that means bad.

Is this really all for a good review by some asshat who takes joy out of making people's lives harder? Or are you actually enjoying it?

You feel disgusted at the situation, angered and infuriated that you’ve fallen into his trap. You want to curse out to whatever gods that may be watching and demand why you couldn’t hold back.

Either way, you’re not the only one who couldn’t hold back.

Your breath hitches, a broken string of whines leaving you as the flat of his tongue runs through your slippery folds. His hands on your thighs keep you grounded in place atop the table, because your hips keep twitching up in need of more friction.

You can’t even see his face as it’s so far buried into your wet pussy, practically stuffing his face with it. But god do you feel him. The tips of his hair tickle your inner thighs. His low moan reverberates through you, making you shiver and tingle with excitement.

“A—ahh….!” Your hand finds a place on his hair, pulling as your head tilts back with another moan. “F—fuck…”

His lips smile against your skin, pulling away for a second to look up at your blissed out expression. His face is coated in your juices and you haven’t even came yet. “Pretty good, might be the best thing I’ve had today.”

As he goes back to ravishing you, his tongue slips into your aching hole. Which causes your back to arch up, a higher pitched whine leaving you. “Tad salty, very sweet.”

His comments feel degrading almost. But with the way your thighs threaten to close around his head, pushing his face closer to your cunt, he has a feeling you like it.

It’s electrifying and confusing at the same time. You’ve never been one with hookup culture, you’re not a virgin either but this is on a totally different level. Here you are, letting him tongue fuck you in the middle of the empty restaurant in which you were supposed to be serving him.

Technically you are still serving him.

He urges your hips closer to the edge of the table, spitting harshly against you as he delves back into giving you the best eat of your life.

His tongue alternates between your hole and clit, giving both equal attention while his fingers knead the plush skin of your smooth thighs. Your toes curl in your heels and you feel so close.

You can practically taste it on your tongue, not even mindful anymore of the noises that you’re making. Too engrossed in the utter bliss of the way his mouth sucks and licks at your folds.

You don’t even know you’ve finished until he’s come back up, licking away your release that’s plastered to his pale skin. Left panting and staring up at the dangling lights that feel blinding.

What brings you back down to Earth is the soft clanking of metal. Your head whips down just as he’s unbuckling his pants, eyes blown wide. “W-what are you doing?”

He simply looks at you, shrugging with nonchalance as his belt comes undone, button and zipper next. “Gonna fuck your pussy, what else?”

You scramble to sit up, but he’s faster. Holding your legs open, leaning his face closer. “What? Don’t wanna?”

“I—I shouldn’t. I mean, we shouldn’t.”

“Pfft, why not?”

“Because this wasn’t supposed to happen!”

“But it has,” he tugs his slacks down, giving you full view of the raging boner nestled under his black boxers. His hand reaches to give himself a few strokes. “Haven’t been this hard in a long time.”

You feel your release ooze down onto the tablecloth, hole feeling empty as it clenches around air. All you can do is watch him jerk himself, gulping as you lick your lips. “This is….really wrong.”

Yet it feels so right.

His lips touch the side of your neck, kissing and sucking a small mark into your skin. You tilt your head for him, arm coming up to hold around his neck. Chest heaving up and down. “I’ll fuck you good, I promise.”

Your eyes are instantly drawn down to his leaking cock as he pulls it out. Long and thin veins decorating the length with pre-cum leaking out the head. Trimmed with a small white bush of pubic hair at his base. It looks pretty.

He huffs out a breathy laugh, titling your face up to him, lips meeting. His lips are soft and plush, melting into it. He keeps his hand on your nape so he can deepen the kiss, tongue invading your mouth like a snake.

Spit dribbles down the corners of your mouths. All the while he’s teasing your entrance with his cock.

“Ngh!” You pull away, face scrunching and mouth agape.

“Mm, like that?” His tip runs up and down your slit, smearing his pre into your folds and around them. The sight is lewd. “So wet, just from my tongue too. How many guys make you finish from just eating you out?”

Out of all the times he tries for a conversation, does right now have to be one? “N-none…”

He hums. “So I’m the only one? I like that.”

He finds your hole, just barely pushing in. Your nails claw at his shoulders, whimpering into his ear. “S-shit, just wait a second…”

“For what?” His voice is husky, brows pinched together. The warmth from your cunt practically enveloping him whole.

You croak out something unintelligible. For a few seconds, you two stay frozen like this. But that’s cut short as he slowly begins to slide deeper. “Shit, stop squeezin’ me.” He grunts.

All you can offer is a weak “I’m not” before being cut off by a breathy moan, one he replicates with you. He moves in deeper and deeper, until he’s finally buried to the hilt in your warm pussy. It’s big, bigger than you’ve ever taken. You’re not sure if that’s a good thing or not.

His fingers dig into your hips while your nails into his shoulders.

Practically feeling his cock twitch within you, you have to hold back squeezing around him even more. But it just feels too good not to. It makes you feel full.

As he begins to move, he’s whispering dirty praises into your ear.

“Fuck, you’re so tight.”

“Who knew you had such good pussy.”

“Look at you, sucking me in like a good little whore, huh?”

“Best fuckin’ pussy I’ve ever had.”

Each word he emphasizes with a quicker thrust. The silverware clanks around you, some even falling to the ground. The table creaks and the cloth crumples up. “W-wait….slow…ngh!”

“No slow,’ he patronizingly laughs, his gaze darkened as he looks at you. “Going fast, you’re gonna take it too. ‘Cause you’re a desperate little thing, aren't you?”

You whine out, biting down hard on your lip you’re surprised you’re not drawing blood yet. He takes this as an invitation to devour your mouth once more. The kiss is harder this time, more sloppy. Seems sloppy is his thing.

Before you know it, he manhandles you to flip over, ass high in the air while his hand forces your back down into an arch. “Just like that. Stay still and I’ll let you cum again.”

With this new position, he’s able to hit spots you didn’t even know were there. All you have to hold on is the cloth of the table, balling them into your fists while he mercilessly pounds into your pussy from the back. His balls hit your clit in a repetitive motion that damn near causes you to see stars.

Noises and mumble words fall out your mouth like water, the side of your face being pushed down into the hard surface. His hand twirls and tangles in your hair before giving it a hard tug back.

“Mngh!”

With one hand on your hip and the other in your hair, it gives him all the reigns to perfectly fuck your squelching hole, pace unforgiving. And what’s he doing the whole time? Laughing. That asshole is laughing.

Either at your state or the fact that you fit so perfectly snug around his cock like a ring.

It’s like he’s moving on autopilot, just one thing on his mind. Fucking you like your his fleshlight he keeps in his room. “Maybe I should’ve come here sooner—fuck—could’ve had this pussy all to myself even sooner.”

He groans, head tilting back as a familiar sensation bubbles in his stomach. “Ah, god…fuck.”

“D-dont cum!” You half-heartedly shout, body trembling in preparation for your second release of the day.

“Hah?” he huffs out. “You tell a guy who’s fucking a pretty pussy he can’t come? You’re crazy.”

“Ah….hah…!” You mewl out, squeezing around him.

He curses under his breath, hips stuttering. A warm feeling erupts deep within your cunt, causing you to whine. It makes your whole body feel as if it’s on fire, thighs shaking. Your cum mixes with his own, dripping down the backs of your thighs in a disgusting manner. You’re left panting for air

He spends a good time watching it all happen, and as he pulls out, seeing your hole twitch and tremor around air almost starts to make him hard again. He leans over, hot air hitting the shell of your ear, his voice low and husky. “Up for more?”

Monday, 9am.

Incoming message from

Mayra:

Check your email, forwarded you something.

You groan tiredly, fingers fiddling with the bright screen of your phone. Clicking on the wrong app a couple times before opening your Gmail. You press on the email from Mayra, an attached link.

The link leads you to a familiar site, embarrassment painting your features as you read.

“After a rather lackluster first experience at 'Lovely Haven,' I was pleasantly surprised by my second visit. Walking into the restaurant felt like stepping into a cozy embrace, with the ambiance perfectly set to spark a little magic. The soft music and intimate lighting created an atmosphere that made everything feel just a little more exciting.

Let’s talk about the food. I started with the savory starter, which was a perfect balance of flavors. Each bite was a tantalizing tease that had me eagerly anticipating what was to come. Then came the main course, which was cooked to perfection and bursting with flavor. It had just the right amount of kick, leaving me wanting more and more.

I decided to try their special dessert this time, and let me tell you, it was absolutely divine. Each bite was a burst of flavors, rich and decadent, just how I like it. The way it melted on my tongue was nothing short of a culinary revelation. I might have lingered a little too long over that dish—can you blame me? It was like savoring a sweet secret that just kept getting better.

But let’s not forget about the service. The owner was not only charming but also incredibly attentive. There was a delightful chemistry between us that made the evening even more enjoyable. She made sure I was well taken care of, adding that special touch that turned a simple meal into something unforgettable.

If you’re looking for a place that offers more than just food—something that tantalizes the senses and leaves you feeling revitalized—I highly recommend giving 'Lovely Haven' a try. Just be prepared for some delicious surprises that might have you coming back for seconds (or thirds!). I certainly will!"

a/n: first smut piece kind of. if there's typos, pls overlook them, i was very tired and in heat. sorry if it's not very slhow burn :( but i hope you all enjoyed. thank you smmm <3

#gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x y/n #gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #gojo satoru smut #jjk smut #gojo smut #jujutsu kaisen #x reader #jjk #gojo satoru #jjk gojo

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nebulaeternal · 2 months ago

Text

✧༺┆✦Reflections of Desire✦┆༻✩

―୨୧⋆ ˚GENRE/WARNING: smut, jealous sylus, mirror kink, slight bondage, breeding kink, orgasm denial, orgasm control, mirror sex, porn w/ little plot, alcohol mention. ―୨୧⋆ ˚SUMMARY: While attending a high-society event, Sylus experiences a slip of professionalism as he slowly becomes consumed by his jealousy and his fantasy after watching his partner in crime flirt with their target. ―୨୧⋆ ˚WORD COUNT: 4.3K ―୨୧⋆ ˚A/N: Hello! This is my first real post on here. It's been a while since I've written so it may be a bit rusty, but I hope you enjoy! (I did go back and edit this a couple times cause I kept getting ideas, so if you’re revisiting, I hope you enjoy~) ―୨୧⋆ ˚LINKS: AO3 Version, Twitter(come interact with me!)

During the time that you’ve known Sylus, it was an intriguing fact that the crimson-eyed crow had harbored a fascination with mirrors. If you recall correctly, he had several decorative mirrors placed meticulously throughout his mansion, either adorned with beautifully intricate details or simple sleet yet elegant designs. While it was in the nature of a crow to collect shiny objects, for a man like Sylus it was somewhat out of character for him.

You hadn’t given it much thought–that is, until you caught him gazing intently at you through the reflection of the mirror, as you put on the finishing touches to your makeup. Your eyes locked, and you watched as a smirk creeped onto his face, shamelessly checking you out. You rolled your eyes and returned to the task at hand–your makeup.

Slowly and deliberately, you brought the lip gloss to your lips, applying it in a rather sensuous and seductive manner, something Sylus took great pleasure in watching, captivated by the way your lips moved against the tube. His mind slipped, losing himself in thought, indulging in the fantasy of kissing you, stealing your breath right from your lungs, watching as your lips grew glossy and plush, like pillows he so desperately wanted to lay his lips on.

“Ok, I’m ready. Let’s go.” you chirped, turning on your heel to face him. Sylus remained silent, his gaze darkening and unyielding, eyes slowly trailing down your figure. He savored the way your custom-tailored dress clung perfectly to your body, memorizing the way it twisted and curved over your skin.

He couldn’t resist the pull, the sound of his polished dress shoes clicking against the floor. Your eyes followed him until his body was pressed flush against yours, arms slipping around your waist. “God, you’re so beautiful. I’ll never get tired of this.” He says just above a whisper as his face hovered only inches above yours, eyes flickering down to your lips once more.

A light blush crept onto your face, a smirk gracing your features as you wrapped your arms around his neck pulling him impossibly closer. “For you, Love? I’ll do it again and again.” you teased, lips brushing lightly against his. You knew exactly what that would do to him and it was driving him crazy.

The two of you stood there, holding each other, gazed locked and burning with an intense flame of passion, tension in the air so thick you could cut it with a knife. Sylus’s arms tighten around you, as he backed you into the vanity mirror behind you, taking a quick glance at your reflections, noting how small you were against him.

Moments before desire flooded his senses, he cleared his throat, pulling back slightly, composing himself a little. “We better get going or we won’t make it at all.” His voice was low and gruff as he pulled away, fighting to keep his desire under check. “Shall we?” he asks, holding out his arm, ready for you to take it.

You smoothed out your dress before linking your arm through his, taking your customary place at his side. Sylus led the two of you out the door to his Maserati, opening the passenger door with practice elegance. Like the gentleman he was, he ensured your dress was carefully tucked inside before gently closing it and heading around to the driver’s side.

He slid into the car and started up the ignition before taking off with speed. As he drove, the two of you reviewed the details of the mission–after all, that was the real reason you were headed to the damn party to begin with. “Stay close when the targets bite.” you remind him, almost shivering at the thought of how many creeps lurked out there.

“You know how men can be,” he said, flashing you his signature, confident smirk. “Now Sweetie, you know I would never leave your side.” He added smugly, causing you to giggle despite the slight tension that lingered in the air.

Upon arriving at the party scene, the place was dimly lit, small talk and occasional laughter filling the otherwise quiet atmosphere. You exchanged a final nod with Sylus before parting ways to carry out assigned tasks. You positioned yourself at the bar, using Sylus’s black card to buy yourself a drink, all part of the elaborate ruse you were crafting.

The bartender returned with a glass of red wine, and almost on cue, one of your targets slid up beside you. What’s a beautiful lady like you doing all alone at the bar? No escort?” he asked, his eyes greedily taking you in. You raised your wine glass to your lips, meeting his gaze while you sipped at the deep red liquid.

Feigning interest in the unfortunate man, you lowered the glass and replied, “Just enjoying a quiet moment,” your voice as smooth as the wine you just tasted. You flashed an innocent yet seductive smile, Bringing the wine glass to your lips once more, taking a sip watching him intently. He had taken this as an invitation to lean closer, his breath reeking of cigarettes.

“You don’t seem like the type to be alone.” Fighting against the urge to curl away from his antics, feeling disgusted by his behavior. Your eyes scanned his figure up and down, slowly trailing, such a convincing act you put on. “Maybe I was just waiting for the right company.” You tease, chuckling whilst you swirl the wine in your glass before gently setting it down again.

The man before you gave a smirk, convincing himself that he was winning his way into your–well panties. “Well, it looks like you’ve found it.” Giggling at his comment, you proceeded with your playful banter. Sylus was on the other end of your meticulously concealed earpiece, listening to the exchanges that occurred between the two of you.

That last giggle you let out fueled the fire of Sylus’s growing irritation. He groaned in frustration–after all, that playful behavior was typically reserved for him and only him, however, he was there to help complete a mission, and he could not by any means, let his possessive nature get the better of him.

As luck would have it, you managed to extract the information you needed from the pitiful excuse of a man, before putting on one final Oscar-worthy performance and bidding him a farewell. As you walked away, you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. The tension finally leaving your body as you headed towards the bathroom to escape the noise.

With a clearer head, it dawned on you that you had not heard from Sylus since your flirtatious incident with the man at the bar. Ultimately, it was not the most pressing matter, knowing that he could handle himself. You’d look for him after taking a moment to breathe and splash yourself with some cold water.

As you turned the corner to the bathroom, a firm grip seized our arm, spinning you around before cupping a hand over your mouth, muffling your attempt at a cry for help. Panic surged through your body, heart thumping out of your chest.

With wide eyes, you found yourself face to face with none other than the crimson eyed man, his appearance almost disheveled as he pressed you against the wall. Relief washed through you as you realized it wasn’t an intruder. Gently, you pulled his hand away from your mouth. “God, you scared the hell out of me, Sy.” you said, eyeing him up and down. His usual composure was replaced with something more desperate, needy even–breath ragged and raw, need lingering in his gaze

“Sorry, Love, I didn’t mean to startle you.” he murmured, his voice almost breathless, something you found rather amusing. He was usually so poised. He placed his hands on your hips smirking, questions arose within you.

“What happened to y-” your words were abruptly cut off as he swiftly pulled the two of you into the bathroom, locking the door behind him. He stood there for a moment, still turned to the door while you turned to the sink to splash some cold water on your neck.

The faucet handle squeaks to a stop. Once more, you caught Sylus’s reflection in the mirror, his gaze boring into yours, burning with intensity, just as he had earlier that evening. His eyes roamed hungrily over your body, watching the tendrils of hair that stuck to your damp neck, water droplets slowly trailing down your skin, pooling in the hollows of your collarbones. The sight before him was too tempting for him to ignore, his clothes feeling unbearably tight and restricting against his body. He could no longer resist his urges.

Hearing the all familiar click of shoes against the floor, his steps grew closer, once again taking in the sight of your body from behind. You attempt to turn around and meet his gaze but was promptly interrupted by his deep sultry voice, soft yet commanding, all while his hands slipped onto your hips, steading you by the hips “Don’t turn around..” he murmured as he pulled you closer to him.

His crotch was pressed against your bottom, chest flush against your back. Your face began to burn, you could feel him, all of him. Instinctively, you exposed your neck to him, to which he eagerly latched his lips onto the skin where your neck and shoulder meet, eyes boring deep into you. He took pleasure in watching every second of what he was doing to you, seeing how your eyebrows furrowed upwards, in such a pleasurable manner, one he found cute. Your jaw went slack as the air was filled with your pants and gasps.

You moaned softly as you felt the suction from his lips against your skin “Sylus..not here-” attempting to steal a glance at his direction but was quickly interjected by his hand gripping your jaw gently yet firmly, turning your head back towards the mirror “Eyes on the mirror, Kitten.”

Before you could even protest, the man drew out, yet another moan from your lips, littering your neck with kisses and love bites. Your body grew weaker with each passing second, feeling yourself begging to crumple from the pleasure. Bracing yourself for his lustful antics, you put your arms on the sink, propping your body up while his arms trailed and roamed. “Sy…hng..wait..” you were hushed once more. He bared his teeth, revealing his subtle fangs that you love so much, and sunk them into your skin, effectively hushing you momentarily. “Shhh, let me have this. I didn’t like the way you were flirting with that man.”

The mirror before you was already starting to fog up. Had it not been for the rapping of fingers against the door, it would have only gotten foggier, immediately alerting you two that your time was up. “That’s ok, we can finish this up at home.” Sylus then picked you up and threw you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, leaving you blushing and covering your face as the man waiting outside the door witnessed the scene and almost went pale.

“Sylus! Put me down!” you whined and protested, thumping your smaller fists against his strong back, but the man was on a mission and had only one thing on his mind. You. His hand came up to firmly slap you on the ass, causing you to squeak, effectively shutting you up and keeping you still. Getting to the car, he placed you gently in the passenger seat of the car and went around the front before getting in the driver’s seat, not hesitating to start the engine before speeding off once more.

The two of you arrive back at his mansion, the twins waiting to greet you both. Giving you no room to speak to the two, Sylus picked you up and slung you over his shoulder whilst he tossed them the keys to his car. Kieran fumbled to catched the keys, watching the two of you disappear into the distance. Without saying a word, they understood exactly what their boss wanted.

The two of them waved at you, snickering at what they could only guess was about to happen between the two of you. Having given up ages ago, you now lay limp on his shoulder, the ache of his rigid structure digging into your belly. You watched the familiar rooms and decorations pass as he walked you back to his room, where he tossed you gently onto the bed. His lips were quick to latch onto yours, his hand resting on the back of your neck, pulling you in for a heated kiss, the silence of the air being filled with ragged breaths and lips smacking.

Pulling away from you, you could see the lip gloss now staining his lips, a red and glossy streak outstretched past the corner of his mouth. He leaned back down for another, not giving you much time to breathe, your flavor too intoxicating for him to get enough of. He took your lips with a hunger you knew deep down could only be satisfied in one way.

The noise of it all reached your ears, causing your face to burn even hotter whilst you felt his hands snake up your body, slowly peeling your dress off of you. His lips left yours and began to trail down your body, taking his time with each kiss and bite he planted against your skin “You’re so beautiful, I could do this all night long.” He murmurs against your skin, bringing the strap of your dress lower and till he could slip your breasts out.

You and Sylus may have done this a couple times, yet you found yourself still shy and blushing each time. He kissed his way down your legs, whispering praises and showering you with an affectionate lust. You couldn’t help but cover up, still feeling shy. Sylus then brings his hands to yours, gently holding your wrist as he pulls your arms away “Don’t hide from me, Love.”

Taking your wrists in one hand, he plants soft kisses on your skin, each kiss leaving your skin scorching hot. He then pins them above your head, leaving his other hand to roam freely, exploring your nearly naked body. His lips eagerly latch onto your nipple, causing you to moan and arch your back, further shoving your breasts in his face. “Sylus~” the sound of you moaning out his name was driving him up the wall and it only made his blood run hot through his veins, he couldn’t stay away and it spurred him on further.

Letting your wrist go and holding your hips with both his hands, your fingers found your way to his hair, tangling in his silver locs while you get consumed wholly by pleasure.

You then see his eyes flicker for a moment, following his gaze, your eyes landed on the beautifully carved mirror with golden trimmings that sat not too far from bed.

He slips your dress off completely, scooting the two of you closer to the mirror. His lips never once leaving your body. Gently flipping you onto your stomach, his fingers delicately trace along your spine, while he takes off his tie.

“Put your hands out in front of you.” You do as he says without question and stick both your hands out in front of you. Mewling needily for him. He then leans over you bringing the tie to your wrist, binding them together “Face down, ass up.” His tone was commanding and gruff, causing the heat within you to rise. You shuffle and scoot, shifting your weight from your stomach to your knees and elbows, your pussy clenching around nothing as it dripped with your arousal.

Your scent hits Sylus’s nose, rushing almost immediately to his cock as he lets out a soft hum, watching as you flutter around nothing, almost as if it was an invitation for him to sink into your walls. Throwing caution to the wind, he quickly slipped himself out of his pants, unable to resist any longer, and positioned himself behind you. Watching his reflection in the mirror, you couldn’t help but hide your face when the two of you locked eyes, seeing his body looming over yours with an insatiable desire.

Placing his palm on the small of your back, he guides your body lower as his throbbing erection laid between your ass cheeks. Gripping your chin he turned your head, forcing you to look at the reflection. “Watch.” He growls into your ear, that was not a suggestion, it was a command. The head of his cock teases your entrance while your face begins to contort into a pleasurable expression as you feel him slowly sliding into you. You can hear a stifled groan escape his lips as he pushes himself to the hilt, letting out ragged, needy breaths, a string of expletives following before he finally bottoms out.

He was kind enough to give you a few moments to adjust to his size. Slowly, he pulled out, leaving just the tip inside before slamming back into you, a force so strong, your body lurched forward. Unable to catch yourself, you tried your best to support your body with shaky arms. The instant pleasure that came to you from his forceful thrust had your eyes rolling to the back of your head and spit dribbling down your chin.

He caught a glimpse of your blissed out face, smirking whilst he continued to thrust into you, his pace picking up as his gentleness was now replaced with an almost jealous vigor. You struggled with keeping your eyes trained on the mirror ahead of you and proceeded to bury your face in the mattress in an attempt to muffle your cries as well as hide your embarrassment.

You felt his hand snake around your neck pulling you out of the mattress and into the air, having your body nearly pressed up against his. He turns your head to the mirror once more “Be a good girl and watch how I fuck you.” but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. You knew it would be the beginning of your unraveling and you had only just begun.

“N-No ah!” Sylus gave one particularly hard, angled, purposeful thrust, forcing your eyes to fly open and look at the sight before you. Your neck was littered with marks and bites from earlier that night while he drove his cock further into you, watching you cry out in the reflection of the mirror.

“Now, was that so hard?” he purred out, feeling you clench impossibly tighter around him whilst you watched both your bodies collide in a sweaty tango. You were too lost in pleasure to even answer his question. Jaw hanging slack, more moans spilled from your mouth while your mind went blank.

“Answer me.” He shoved himself even deeper into you, the tip of his cock kissing your cervix as you cried out, tears brimming your eyes “No! It wasn’t-” A satisfied smirk made its way to Sylus’s face knowing that only he could get you like this. Absolutely needy and desperate for him, too sex dazed to think about anything else besides the feeling of him thrusting in and out of you.

“Letting that disgusting man near you like that..and flirting with him,” He leaned down, his pace unrelenting. Whispering in your ear “It was on purpose wasn’t it?” You couldn’t deny that you enjoyed teasing Sylus, but had you known you’d be punished like this tonight, you might have reevaluated your decision.

You never thought Sylus to be the jealous type, yet here he was, plowing into you with such vigor and possession, ridding your brain of any of the occurrences from earlier that night, only able to think of him and the way he ravished your body.

“Wasn’t..on purpose, hah-” you moaned out, feeling yourself nearing your peak. Sylus took note, accustomed to every little change that happened within your body. “Liar.” He felt the slight twitch of your walls around him. He picked up the pace, pounding into you deliciously, the restriction of your cunt, wrapping him like a vice, enticing his own release, but he wasn’t ready to let go, not yet.

“Sylus!” You scream out, feeling yourself nearly coming undone. Like the evil bastard he was, he slowed down before coming to a complete stop, watching your worm in frustration, chasing your fading climax before huffing out. “Why?!” your hips chased his own as he pulled away slightly, still attempting to seek out your release.

“Because teases don’t get what they want.” He retorted now, turning you on your back. You were now staring into his eyes, dark and clouded with lust. The look on his face only making you want to submit to him, his power something that you could never challenge, even if you wanted to. “Sy-aahhh.”

Your attempt to call out his name was swiftly disrupted by him sliding back into your slick, sensitive walls, Pushing your thighs up, knees almost at your head. You clenched tightly around him, feeling as if you’d come undone right then and there. “Sylus, please-please let m-”

He put a finger to your lips, hushing you one more time. “You’re going to be a good girl and take what I give you.” He’s now grabbing your tied up wrist, pulling you onto his cock as he grits his teeth. “And don’t you dare cum until I let you.” You whimpered at his request, but what could you do besides hold of the best you could.

You didn’t notice it at first, but when you finally opened your eyes fully, the air left your lungs at the sight before you. “Sy, when did you-ah~have-“ he quickly interrupted you, still thrusting in and out of you. “Had it installed..while we were out..”he groaned. Your heart beats fast out of your chest staring at the reflection.

If you didn’t have a thing for mirrors before, you definitely did now. Eyes trained on the mirror in the ceiling, watching his back muscles tense and flex as he plowed into you. You wanted so desperately to wrap your arms around him and claw his back but you can’t.

Oh how you’d love to see his skin littered with scratch marks. Especially from this view, red marks against his pale skin would be such an enticing sight. The thought of it making you clench even harder around him.

“S-Sylus. Hands. Please?” Mewling out, hoping he pities your desperate cries. Grunting, he shakes his head, hips still thrusting mercilessly. “Not…yet..kitten.” You clenched around him harder, listening to the skin slap and seeing his reflection in the mirror above.

Sylus was attuned to the little changes in your body, how whiny you’ve become, gaze fixed past his head, feeling you constrict around him tighter than before “You like it?” He asked, beginning to smirk. All you could do was nod your head yes as his pace was relentless.

He continued thrusting vigorously into you, the feeling of pleasure running hot in your veins as you let out the most satisfied moan. Sylus watched, moans spilling out uncontrollably whilst your mind got clouded with pleasure, watching you get lost in the feeling of his cock driving deep into you and whatever fantasy has you so dazed.

Watching you so lost in pleasure began to make his own desire rise as his thrusts became more forceful and intentful. Not sure how much longer he could last, he tugged your bound wrists harder, slipping his other hand down to where the two of you were joined, thumbing your clit, rubbing it in circles.

Your body began to convulse and twitch uncontrollably, your moans only getting louder and higher in pitch as your legs began to tremble. You looked into his deep crimson eyes, tears brimming your own as you silently begged for him to let you finish, unable to say much besides babble incoherently.

His thrusts became more erratic as he chased his own climax, feeling your gummy walls starting to restrict around him once more. Pounding into you mercilessly, glancing up at the mirror near the bed, he watched how your body squirmed and writhed against his steel strong grip.

Unable to hold off much longer, Sylus bends down and whispers into your ear, urging you to cum for him. “Mm-be a good girl for me, Kitten. Cum for me.” he chanted over and over into your ear, his mind starting to go blank from the pleasure as his climax approached, hips moving faster and sloppier.

You couldn’t hold yourself any longer. Letting go, you finally hit your climax, cumming hard whilst your body trembled and your eyes rolled back, tears staining your cheeks and spit dribbling down the side of your mouth. “Sylus!~” You moaned his name one final time before your body went limp.

Hearing you moan his name like that was something he couldn’t resist, his hips moving quickly and erratically as his own orgasm teetered on the edge. It took one last involuntary squeeze from your pussy for him to spill his load inside you. Groaning and moaning as his hips jerked, shoving his seed deeper into you, while he pulled on your restraints, pulling you further onto his cock, before collapsing on top of you.

The two of you lay there, panting, breathless, and absolutely fucked out. Bodies quivering with the aftershocks of your orgasm as you open your mouth to speak. Your throat was dry and your voice was hoarse. “You were that jealous huh?” Sylus rolled his eyes at your question.

Pulling out slowly, hissing at the way your walls clenched around him, almost as if inviting him back in. He undid the tie cuffs he had made before picking you up and heading to the bathroom.

“Shut up..” he scoffed as a smile creeped onto his face.

#Sylus #love and deepspace sylus #love and deepspace #smut #fanfic #sylus x reader #lads #lads sylus #lads fanfic #lads smut #qin che #sylus x you #sylus love and deepspace

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casuallyanidiot · 3 months ago

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Hi what about Yan sugar daddy?

Oooh Yandere sugar daddy would be interesting.

I can see it going a couple ways. One is either you're desperately broke and need some cash asap, or you're just bored and want a bit of extra cash.

You have other jobs, but the bottom line is that you want/need more.

That's where Yan Sugar daddy steps in.

The two of you meet on a website, and he's not much older than you are. It's the most pleasant thing about the whole situation besides the money. He promises you a certain amount for some company, even more if you agree to be intimate or act in a romantic manner. He gives you gifts and randomly send you money on top of your agreed upon payment, too.

Yan Sugar Daddy knows he's not the only thing in your life, and he's okay with that at first. You've got your jobs, your friends, your school, so he knows that outside of him, you've got a whole life he's not privy to. Yan Sugar Daddy knows that he's a customer, and you're a product. That's all. He knows that the two of you aren't in a real relationship.

That's until you wind up seeing him vulnerable a few times, and you in turn confide in him about things happening in your personal life.

Yan Sugar Daddy is so lonely. He spends all his time on his job, and he never has any time to build a natural relationship. That's why he turned to you in the first place. And here you were, comforting him like a soothing balm. Then you go and entice him with a small window into the real you.

Yan Sugar Daddy wants you. He wants the two of you to be in love. So he starts laying it on thick. He gives you more and more money, more gifts, more lavish dates. He tries to get you to spend all your time with him, and he can't help but smile when you complain of how you don't see your friends as often as you used to.

Eventually your job and his constant need for you clash. It's not too hard to convince you to quit and become his full time.

Yan Sugar Daddy makes you reliant on him fully. Anytime you complain or express a desire to leave his luxury apartment, he plies you with designer bags worth thousands of dollars. He loves to see you snuggled up and happy under his control. Sure, he might not ever let you see the light of day again, but at least you got what you wanted. You're living in absolute wealth thanks to him.

And maybe it could've just been a simple transaction and stayed that way, but it's just unfortunate that you made yourself so easy to buy.

#yandere x reader #my writing #yandere #yandere male #tw yandere #yandere x you #x reader #yandere boy #reader insert #yandere sugar daddy #sugardaddy #sugarbaby #fanfic writing #answered asks #ask

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fraugwinska · 5 months ago

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I've seen fanfics about Alastor × deaf reader

But what about.. blind reader? Maybe they lost sight in some battle

How they would be confused meeting Alastor at first: did someone turn the radio on- oh, thats a demon talking!

And how confused would be Alastor as his feelings started to grow towards the reader: he just enjoys their company! What else can he do when they like to listen to him spilling the tea and just rambling about everything because of his soothing voice? His favourite listener

Then.. their relationships get a bit different as in another one relaxing evening together Alastor asks if they want to see him..

And on their confused silence he answers bringing their hands to his face for them to "read" his apperience..

Just thought it would be hella fun to read! Not good enough at english, sorry for mistakes

I love your writtings! 💕Stay hydrated and don't dare to overwork yourself ☝

Hiya lovely Anon! <3 I put my own little spin on your idea! I love fics like those, and this one sat in my drafts for ages - I hope the wait was worth it! Thank you so much for this ask! <3 Warning: Contains depictions of attempted SA, please read with caution - MINORS DNI!

The bookstore was always quiet in the evenings. Well, it was quiet almost always.

Hell wasn't the most... appreciative place for tombs and books that didn't have porn or egregious murder in them, so your shop wasn't really frequented much. Occasionally, a new sinner would find their way in, not yet taken by the unpunished excessiveness Pentagram City had to offer, and would buy a book or two, never to be seen again. The rest of your clientele were loyal regulars, mostly elderly demons and imps getting books for their masters in other rings. It wasn't much, but enough for you to get by, live a simple, modest life. Your shop was mundane enough as to not attract the more dangerous ones the city had to offer, yet held the beauty that only an antique bookstore could, with a reading room like atmosphere, mismatched armchairs scattered in between the high bookshelves and an old radio on the counter playing in the background.

That didn't mean there weren't moments you'd have to get yourself out of some serious situations. On rare occasions, the patrons of your bookstore became too demanding or rough with you, thinking they could intimidate or screw you over because of your... handicap. After all, how would you see the hand reaching in the register, or the little spell book slipping into the inside pocket of a jacket. The blindness you were born with on earth hadn't left you in your death, but the enhanced sensitivity of your other senses made things easier for you. You had learned to take your losses, unwilling to let these moments ruin your confidence in your work or diminish your spirits.

You navigated through the little store with ease, putting laid-out books back into their designated places - feeling the backs of the books like it spelled their names, and motion memory guiding you through the maze of furniture and shelves - your plain, long felt skirt softly brushing this edge and that wood panel. What you wore wasn't fancy, modern or stylish attire, but it was comfortable enough. And who were you kidding? At the end of the day, nobody cared for your less-than-ordinary appearance, but yourself.

Your mind had been drifting around between random topics for a while until, on your last trip back to the front desk, your round ears picked up the bell on your door and the faint sound of staticy talking, coming from the direction of the counter. A customer, at this hour no less! But you were sure you had turned off the radio hours ago... maybe the old thing was finally breaking down, you thought with a little sadness. You hurried to it, still hung back in your thoughts and babbling as you turned the desk to shut the little device off so your customer wasn't disturbed.

"Hello, I'm terribly sorry if you're bothered by the radio, I should have turned it off. Feel free to browse through-" you paused mid-sentence as the air shifted slightly. You had turned the familiar knob but the filtered voice didn't stop talking. Your ears moved around, as if the source was everywhere and nowhere at the same time, trying to determine its source, when the other occupant of the store laughed at the surprise written on your face.

"Apologies aren't necessary my dear, but that wasn't the little device here but me, asking for service. Although I'm quite fond of a little old fashioned tune - comes with the title of the Radio Demon, you see." He talked with amusement, or something in his tone seemed powerful and dangerous. As his words started to make sense to you, you held a sharp breath, struggling not to take a step back. Of course you've heard of Alastor, the Radio Demon, but you've never had the honor (or dread) of meeting him in person. Rumors had spread around in hell a long time before you'd even gotten here, stories of a powerful overlord who'd broadcasted the screams and torments of his victims, spreading fear to everyone, from sinner, to lesser demons, to even other overlords themselves.

"W-welcome to my store, sir! What can I help you with today?" You smiled pleasantly, hoping that showing him respect and going out of your way for a courteous interaction could possibly keep you from being torn to pieces. You heard the ruffling of fabric - a hand reaching into a pocket, wrapping it's fingers around a thick piece of paper, along a low, distorted chuckle. "A good friend of mine recommended your store to me, I am looking for a few... unusual books, hopefully to be found here."

You waited into the silence, one second, two, three. When he said nothing, only static noise slowly increasing in volume, you decided to speak again. "May you tell me the titles, sir?"

"If you'd take the list, little mouse, everything I need is on it." His voice had an edge of annoyance to it now. You didn't know when his presence had approached so close to where you stood, and couldn't decide if that was a good sign or not. You sighed, pulling the darkened glasses off you wore day in, day out, revealing the white irises that gave your blindness away. After a sound like a record scratch, you managed a helpless smile. "I fear if it's not in braille, it won't do much to hand me that."

The other demon was silent again, but the crackling static had dropped, and before you had time to add something that wouldn't get you gutted, he'd barked a laugh, sounding genuinely amused and entertained.

"My, isn't that a bit cliché, my dear? A blind mouse? Any chance you have two siblings?"

That joke was new. You dared to husk out a little laugh, too, your hands gently resting on the counter top. "I hate to disappoint, but no. I even have my tail still, no farmers wife with a knife."

There was a change in his stance, his coat sweeping the air as you heard the list was laid on the wooden surface in front of you, surprisingly not crushed or crumbling under the power of his hand. Coldness swept like waves of fog over the front desk and your hands, you pulled them away with a shudder, confused, but your patron just hummed.

"There, that should've done the trick. I'd rather not want to read my little.... requests aloud, they're a rather curious bunch, I believe. Very useful, though, especially those for more creative types in cooking."

You reached for the paper and thumbed through the braille letters one after the other, feeling a long list of more... taboo tomes you were sure wouldn't have even been mentioned in any respectable catalogue. Luckily, you were a glutton for oddities and curiosities, and with a small smile of pride you found that you had every book on the list on hand. Maybe it was this pride thatgave you the confidence so that you didn't reply and instead swiftly jumped ahead, bustling through the rows and pillars of bookshelves. Every step was calculated, from the short staircase to the tiny nook where you stored spell books and tombs of dark magic, navigating past all the tables and furniture to the particular bookcase containing ritualistic cookbooks. Once you had a feeling where a book would be located, you searched the titles by stroking the backs with the pads of your fingers, tapping quickly and analyzing the material and little bumps and nicks of the spines. Once found, you traced the edges of the piece and drew up a mental image in your mind to check it wasn't bent, dirty, torn or had any parts missing. Your fingers were your eyes, and they were keen.

As you carried the rather heavy stack back, the Radio Demon hadn't moved an inch from where you'd left him, as far as you could tell. It had been hard not to acknowledge him throughout the ordeal while your brain just went on autopilot after realizing he didn't mean to kill you, at least for the moment. On one hand, that was comforting; on the other hand, it was absolutely horrifying.

"Here you go, sir. Please, feel free to check if they are up to your standards." You set the books down carefully, counting the number of thick covers in the stack to be sure and your fingers brushed sharp talons as apparently the Radio Demon reached out to inspect the books as you offered. With a sharp inhale and a heated face you quickly drew back, stammering apologies. He only chuckled faintly, the static surrounding him crackling as if it, too, was amused.

You stood silently behind the counter and listened to him flipping through the pages, turning the books around to read their contents, humming here and there. He seemed content with the lot and you were sure that once he'd paid, he would leave, hopefully sparing your meager existence and not leaving any destruction behind.

"Very well! These will do perfectly, little mouse. And, I have to say, you have a very interesting collection. The quality of your inventory exceeds what Zestial promised. You might expect a few more visits from me in the future, if you don't mind."

The last sentence wasn't a question. It was a statement, underlined with the sound of a heavy stack of bills placed on your counter. Your hands confirmed what your ears already suspected - your patron well overpaid you.

"Not at all, sir, but you gave me too much mon...."

But the air shifted again, and a chime and a thud later you knew he had already walked out, his laughter the last thing you heard before the door clicked shut.

“...ey.”

What a peculiar man, you thought, still processing the entire experience. His voice had been darling, no wonder he chose radio as his medium. You were sure his smile you've heard so many demons whisper about was wide and predatory, but he had been so polite. Even the nickname he'd given you had been charming, compared to the names and remarks you've had thrown at you by lesser demons, and you shook your head at the ridiculousness of your face flushing at the memory.

'Little mouse.'

After a long moment, you finally counted the money and put the amount he tipped you aside in your hidden safe, making a note to yourself that you would give it back to him when he'd return. If he'd return.

Weeks passed and the Radio Demon had kept his promise and visited again. And again. And again.

The first time he came back and you, already flustered, offered to give back the surplus money he'd paid you, he was baffled before he heartily laughed and ignored your attempts to return it to him, instead buying three more books and leaving you with even more undeserved cash in your hands.

Almost once a week he'd return to your store, sometimes he'd have a whole list of books he'd want to buy, and he almost never left your store with empty hands. Sometimes he'd sit down in one of the many chairs to peruse a tomb you set aside for him, predicting he'd find interest in it as you learned his tastes in literature, and he'd hum almost happily when you found a new curiosity or a grimoire that was especially hard to come by. And sometimes he just came in for a quick visit, not even intending to buy a book but just to chat a bit. With every encounter your initial apprehension shifted into appreciation, so much so that you'd grow to eagerly await his return, the sound the bell made when he enthusiastically swung the door open or the slight distortion of your radio when he changed the station to one that suited his mood better.

You were a bit enchanted with him, if you were honest. Not only had every interaction been intriguing and entertaining, he'd been one of the rare visitors who hadn't maliciously mocked or threatened you, or worse. And you found that you enjoyed the small banters you could have with him, the fact that he treated you no differently than anyone else. It was refreshing, and each of his visits put a spring in your step for days, no matter how hard you tried not to think about him.

By the time several months had passed, he became your favorite client and he seemed to have an everlasting interest in your inventory as well as yourself. You learned that he was quite a wealthy demon with a seemingly insatiable appetite for entertainment, and always with an eye for quality, which you vowed yourself to provide in return, if only to keep him coming back. You found you could spend hours with only him at the store over freshly made coffee, discussing various literary concepts and historical events he used as references, and it was a delight to laugh together about some particularly odd rituals in books like 'Old Spells to Cure Thievery' or 'Blood Rituals of the Flaying Kink'.

Sometimes, when you'd hand him a new find or a heavy tomb, his hands would lightly brush yours and his voice would drop and become a bit softer, quieter as he cooed his nickname for you - 'Little Mouse'. With your lack of vision, you didn't know how his face looked nor how his expression would've surely changed - but his voice took on a tone that would be fitting for a date, and the touches made you shiver lightly and tingle and you felt heat spread all over your chest and the pit of your stomach when he did. If your body betrayed those reactions on your face, he wouldn't tease you for them. At least, you never noticed if he did. Maybe he had the grace to simply not remark on them, you thought, for once grateful for your blindness so you wouldn't have to see your own - surely ridiculously dumbstruck - expression reflected in the windows of your storefront. But the physical contact between you became more frequent, more deliberately made, and you'd caught his own quiet sigh every now and again when he lingered for just a moment longer before the doorbell chimed and he'd leave again.

One evening, as you were cleaning up and preparing for tomorrow's customers, a soft knock on the already locked door pulled you out of the haze of your radio's gentle tune. Turning around, you moved slowly towards the sound of the interruption, adjusting your dark glasses.

"My apologies, but we're closed for tonight, please come back tomorrow."

There was no reply, no sound of footsteps and your ears strained to catch a whisper of a sound, to find a new hint as to who was outside. Another knock, harder now, sounded and this time it took all your courage to approach. Your hair stood at its roots as your hands rested at the wooden door, your senses tingling that you better not open - that danger stood in front of your store.

"Please go, we'll be open again tomorrow."

Your reflexes, acting faster than your brain, made you stumble back as the glass of your front doors shattered into a million pieces. In a panic you tumbled to the floor, hands over your face as the pieces broke apart on impact. There were voices, rough and foreign sounding, that accompanied the stomping of boots. You shuffled back on the ground, trying to get out of the way before being stepped or kicked upon, reaching to the walls and bookshelves to find some stability to guide you in getting away from what was coming towards you.

"T-take what you want, please, I won't stop you. Just... just take it and leave."

Your words were shaking in fear and the little hope that a verbal warning and submission would placate the robbers. To your horror the voices - two, if your panicked mind didn't fool you - erupted into raspy laughter and you realized then that money might not be the only thing these demons were after.

"You were right, Hank. This is going to be easier than I thought, look at how helpless the bitch is."

"Told 'ya, Tommy Boy. An' the best part..." supposedly the one called Hank said deviously, and you were yanked up at your wrists and thrown over what must've been your counter, your glasses slipping and breaking at the impact and your eyes dwelling with hot tears. You recognized this voice… just a few days ago this demon had come into the shop, just as Alastor was about to leave, lingering around the shop and leaving quickly mumbling a half-asses excuse without buying anything after you asked if you could help him find something and Alastor's static crackled dangerously. The same smell of sharp sweat and wet tobacco lingered around him, making your stomach turn. "... she can't tell anyone who we are. Hoh, look, her eyes are some freaky shit, 'n you bet her tits 're freaky, too. S'not even our damn birthday but looks like we got ourselves a gift. 'Ya wanna go first?"

"You know me - Don't mind if I do."

With a heart beating out of your chest and shallow breaths, you tried to feel with your only free hand for something, anything, to defend yourself with. You had to defend yourself. Anything would be better than what horrific thing they were about to do. There was only the flat, leather bound accounting book close by, but it was better than nothing, and in a motion of impulse and fear you slashed with it into the general direction you felt the weight of Tommy settle onto the counter top above you. His complice bellowed angrily, making your ears ring, and Tommy snatched the weapon from your hand to throw it away. His breath smelled of filth and cold ash, the skin of your throat burned when he wrapped his calloused hands around it.

"We're gonna show ya your fucking place, worthless blind cum-chunk bitch, an' when we're done with ya..."

There was a sudden, instant sound of feedback, a wet splatter and a horrified scream and hasty, fleeing footsteps before a wave of relief washed over you as your neck fell free from the intruders grasp and you heard a familiar voice.

"Oh, my dear fellow, do go on. I'd love to hear the end of that sentence." A low, distorted chuckle followed. Alastor sounded different - menacing. Bone-chilling. If those words would've been directed at you, you would've been mortified. But it sounded like honey in your ears, knowing who the recipient was. "Ah, how silly of me - surely it's much harder to speak without vocal chords."

Your teeth sank into your bottom lip as the sounds of violence became ever more gruesome. A whipping sound, a wail and a choked gasp and two stomach-churning thuds of something hitting the floor.

"Well that's not handy at all - you can't even sign your pathetic pleas now. How unfortunate to be in such a vulnerable position, isn't it?"

A thud, then another - your stomach turned as the room got flooded with a different type of warmth. Your lungs and chest stung from the stench of iron and decay and your throat hurt as you realized one aura had vanished from the store and Tommy was most likely reduced to a fleshy pile on the ground. Suddenly you felt a sharp but warm, strangely long but familar hand cradling the back of your skull, pressing your cheek against a broad, angled shoulder, another wrapped tightly around your shoulders, resting under your ears. It was quiet, now - you could only hear your staggered breathing and Alastors static that had gone down a notch or two. You thought his breathing had become more labored, too, when he slowly, gently, let go and straightened you to bring you to a standing position, his hands shifting into their usual shape as they came to rest lightly on your upper arms.

"Are you alright, dear?" His voice was almost back to the tone you were so fond of - almost. There still was an undertone, a dangerous sharpness. Your fingertips instinctively grasped and searched until they met with the familiar texture of his clothing and you nodded.

"Y-yes... I think so, yes. What - what happened to the other one?"

There was a deep laugh, one you haven't heard yet from him. "Oh, my dear, no need to fret over that. I'll deal with that pest later. I should've dealt with him the moment he stepped into your store. An oversight I intend to shortly redeem."

It should have frightened you - should've made the situation so, so much worse, hearing that Alastor planned more torture for that vile creature, probably even an equally gruesome death like the one his friend got. But his words only calmed you. Made you feel... safer. Your fingers lingered on his suit longer than you expected, tracing the detailed seams of his lapels, smoothing out invisible wrinkles on the fabric, feeling the details of the cool, metallic buttons. And he let you. He stood still, allowing your hands to see what your eyes couldn't.

"I can't decide if it's a blessing or a shame that you can't see the carnage I caused. Although I am pleased that you didn't have to look at the ugly faces of those cretins who tried to defile you." He took your hands from his coat and placed them softly on his face. "But maybe… you can try to envision what your savior looks like, hm?"

His hands left yours again, though you found the sensation and feeling of his touch remained where he placed them. Your heart fluttered as you couldn't keep yourself from running your palms and fingertips over his skin, cautiously tracing his angular jaw, making out the distinct feeling and sharp lines of a toothy grin. Then you pushed further, fingers running along a slight bow and over the indent where his brows arched, his cheekbones prominent enough you felt the warmth of blood flushing under the skin as the mental image of his face got clearer.

You were in awe that you could do this, that he encouraged it even, but he allowed you the tender moment, making a muffled humming sound and exhaling quietly under your soft, curious touch. You realized at last that his eyes were closed for you, the skin there slightly pliant and firm at the same time. With the tips of your fingers, you followed the firm, straight bridge of his nose down the length of it and he inhaled sharply when you brushed his lips. The familiar sound of static increased just enough for you to realize there had been complete silence aside from your soft and his steady breathing. He opened his eyes again, slowly taking your hands away to leave a feathery light, lingering kiss on your knuckles as he hummed thoughtfully.

"Now, let me clean up this mess, we don't want you stumble over any... unpleasant bits." You heard a snap and felt the air whirring around you, filling with a thick, fog-like sensation as you heard your floors creaking, wood mending and cracking and tiny bits of glass swirling around you, piecing itself together and returning into their frame. Not even a minute later the shop felt normal again, the unpleasant smell gone as well, and with it the overall apprehension the threat had caused.

"Thank you, Alastor. Truly, I don't know what would've happened if you weren't..." you started, pausing as his hands wandered gently around your face to put on your miraculously repaired glasses. He laughed softly, tapping a gentle, slender finger on the tip of your nose.

"Luckily we didn't find out, did we? Ah, but, unfortunately, I'd say the night has been spoiled for us, given that there's another vermin to take care of." He walked behind you, carefully setting the accounting book you had used as an attempted weapon into your hands, his taloned fingers curling gently around yours as if to make sure you had a proper hold on it.

"You lock up when I'm gone, little mouse. And who knows - Maybe we'll continue to see each other... tomorrow night."

And then you felt another gentle peck, this time on your flushed cheek, and the door opened with the bell ringing, the faint crackle of a radio fading and his heavy, signature scent of burned wood and bourbon lingering around you as you hurried to bolt the doors shut, heart racing painfully in your chest at the prospect of adding even more parts of the Radio Demon to the image in your mind.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #alastor #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel fanfiction #fraugwinskawrites #zestial morde #alastor fluff #blood and gore #TW: depictions of attempted SA

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