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Do You Wanna Touch Me?
18+ ONLY
Summary: Part Two to Hotblooded, Reader can't help herself. She needs Dean anyway she can get him.
Warnings: Smut, Masturbation, Spice, Dirty Talk
Pairing: Dean Winchester x reader
A/N: wow. I did not expect that last one to get so much love and attention! Thank you all for being so kind! This is only my second ? time writing smut, so I hope it meets your expectations. I may keep this one going for at least one more part if you guys are interested. :) As always, comments, reblogs, and likes are always appreciated!
do not copy and share my work anywhere, you don't have permission.
I had been trying to fall asleep for hours now, and yet here I lay, half naked and clinging to a pillow for dear life. The ingredients in my drink from earlier were still running their course through my system and had left me panting at the mere thought of Dean. I’d rid myself of my T-shirt before Sam had even left my room, heat emanating from my body at a rapid pace. Sam had awkwardly averted his gaze before locking me in and reminding me that I should feel better after I rest. And yet even hours later, I feel like I’ll die if I don’t see Dean soon, speak to him, touch him���
I groan as I shift to snag my phone from the nightstand, my hips rolling deliciously against the pillow below me. Feral thoughts of the hunter a few doors down rack my brain and I quickly pull up his contact before pressing the call button. His ringtone echoes down the hall from where I assume he is in the library before he answers.
“Hey, Darlin’,” His voice alone causes my heart to race, a gasp leaving my lips, “Are you okay?”
I shuffle to straddle the pillow below me as he speaks, the worry for me in his voice sending me into a frenzy, “No. I need you.” I practically cry into the speaker, “Need you so bad.”
He sighs deeply and I can hear papers shuffling in the background, “You should be asleep, Sweetheart.”
“Can’t sleep.” I mumble, rolling my hips against the pillow as he speaks, “Can only think about you. I don’t think I’ll think of anything else ever again.”
“I’m trying to find something to help make it easier for you, I’m sorry.” He whispers, papers shuffling again, “I promise, it’s got to wear off eventually.”
I let out a frustrated sound, my bottom lip jutting out as I whine, “I’m going to die in here! I’m going to die from needing you so bad and you wont even come in here to help me.”
“I can’t come help you, Baby. It’s not you that’s asking for this.” He whispers and I can hear the frustration in his voice. One part of me is yelling for me to shut up, to hang up the phone and go to bed, try to somehow go to sleep and forget this ever happened…but the other part of me is ravenous, feral for the man on the other end of the line, and she is not going to lose this battle without a fight.
“It’s your job to help people, Dean.” I cry out, a low blow I know, but the desperation coursing through my veins won’t let up, “Are you really going to leave me here like this?”
“Don’t do that.” He growls out, “I told you before that we could talk about this when you’re not drunk off some god-level fuck juice. I want to talk about this. I do want to help you, but I won’t go in that room.”
His take-no-shit tone goes straight to my core, which I know is the exact opposite of what he’s looking for, but I can’t stop imagining the firm look on his face as he scolds me. My hips roll quicker, a ravenous feeling overtaking my thoughts, “Please keep talking.” I whisper as my eyes close. I hear his breathing hitch, but he doesn’t speak for a moment, and I bite my lip nervously. Did I make him upset? I don’t think I can live with myself if he’s upset with me, “I’m sorry, I didn’t-.”
“Don’t apologize.” He cuts me off quickly, “What are you doing?”
Embarrassment should flood my system, but the idea of being caught getting off to his voice just spurs me on. I lift off the pillow to roll my shorts down my legs and then position myself over it again, “What do you think I’m doing?” I whisper seductively into the speaker. Hoping, practically praying, that he knows and he’ll throw whatever righteousness he has left out the window to come help me reach my goal. Sweat pours down my forehead and a heaviness sits in my hips, I rut against the pillow again to try and alleviate the feeling, a small moan leaving my lips as I do.
The rough sound of his chair sliding across the library floor and his heavy boots thudding as he walks stills me. I sit with bated breath listening to the sound through the phone, waiting to hear him outside my door, “Where are you going?”
I hear him chuckle quietly before his voice finally graces my ear again, “Where do you think I’m going?” I hear his boots come to a stop, but no sound comes from the hallway in front of my room.
I groan in frustration, rutting against the pillow isn’t bringing the amount of relief that my body needs and the thought of Dean not being here to help me brings a sinking feeling in my stomach, “Where are you?”
A door clicks closed on his end before he speaks, “What are you wearing?” He whispers gruffly, sending a shock to my core. I stay quiet for a moment before he whispers a bit softer, “You told me to keep talking. I won’t come in that room with you, but I am going to help you. Now, what are you wearing?”
Though he can’t see me, I nod quickly and glance down to my torso. Thankful for the black lace panty set cladding my body so I don’t have to lie…I don’t think I could lie to him right now, “My underwear.” I whisper, holding my breath while I wait for him to speak again, “It’s black and lacy and I think you’d really like it.”
He groans quietly and I can hear him lay down on what I assume is his own bed, “I’d like to see that.”
“Come here and you can.” My breathing is heavy, anticipation building throughout me as I beg him, “Please.”
“Please? You gonna beg me, Sweetheart?” He whispers lowly, the teasing tone spurs me on and I roll my hips against the pillow again, moaning louder as I do. I hear him suck in a breath before he continues, “Tell me what you want me to do to you.”
“Touch me. Please, touch me.” I cry out, “I need you all over me.”
He chuckles darkly, “I can’t right now, can I? But, you can.”
At his words my hips stutter, I glance down at the pillow as I slide back toward my headboard, “You want me to…”
“Touch yourself, Baby. Where do you want my hands?” His voice is low as he instructs me and I dust the hand not holding my phone across my chest as I listen to his breathing, “Where do you want me to touch you?”
“Everywhere. My chest, my legs, my….” I gasp as my fingertips rub over my clothed nipples; eyes still closed, I imagine his fingers being the ones ghosting across my frame.
I can practically hear the smile on his face when he speaks again, his voice quiet and heavy, “Yeah, I wanna touch you there, too. I can’t stop thinking about the things I want to do to you.”
“What else do you want to do to me?” I whisper, my hands making their way down my body at a slow pace. I play with the hem of my panties, imagining it’s his thick fingers there teasing me as he speaks slowly into my ear.
“I wanna spend all day between your legs, Baby. Wanna fuck you so good, you forget your name.” He whispers huskily, his breathing is heavier and I almost cum at the thought that he must be touching himself, too. I slide my hand into my panties and moan breathlessly at the feeling of relief that rushes my system. I circle my fingers around my opening, brushing my fingertips over the bud at the apex every so often
“You drive me crazy,” I groan, throwing my head back against the headboard as I picture his face between my thighs and all the filthy noises he would be making while he eats me, “I need more. You make me so wet.”
He curses into the speaker and I can hear his breathing quicken, “Take off your clothes.” The harshness in his voice causes my eyes to snap open and rushes me to strip bare faster than I ever have. I remain quiet as I lay alone, listening to his rapid breathing on the other end of the line, “You want me to fuck you, Baby?”
I nod dumbly before realizing that he still can’t see me and quickly recover, “Yes.”
“I want you on your hands and knees. Arch your back and touch yourself.” I nod again, rolling quickly to my hands and knees to do as he asks, “I can’t see you, Sweetheart. Are you listening to me?”
“Yes, Sir.” I mumble as I rush to put the phone on speaker and roll my hips against my fingers, “I’m listening.”
“Good girl.” He replies, chuckling as I moan at the name, “You like that?”
“Yes. I love that.” I pant, rubbing faster against the bundle nerves between my thighs. My eyes roll back at the feeling and I try my best to focus on Dean’s voice as he continues to talk me through this.
“All those little sounds your making are getting me so hard, Darlin’. I can’t stop thinking about how good you must feel, about how good I’d make you feel.” His husky whispers sends my imagination into overdrive as I raise up to sit on my heels. A single finger sinks into me and I moan out at the relief, “I’ve been thinking about being inside you all day. Whatever you want me to do to you, I’d do it. I want to be so deep inside you.”
My eyes roll at his words, my breathing becoming heavier and I barely hear him when he asks, “You close, Sweetheart? Want me to make you cum?” The teasing lilt in his voice urging my hands to move quicker, my fingers rushing in and out of my opening like lightening. My toes curl and my vision goes blurry as the orgasm crashes into me suddenly. His name leaves my lips like a prayer as I come down and I hear him grunt, whispering my name quietly against the phone speaker.
My breathing is heavy when I finally speak, “Thank you.”
He chuckles awkwardly and I can imagine the way a blush covers his cheeks when he replies, “No need to thank me, Darlin’. I think I got just as much out of this as you did.”
I laugh a little in response, feeling the hint of a blush rising in my own cheeks. The relief I feel is insurmountable and I can feel exhaustion taking over my body in exchange for the rabid horniness from earlier. “Do you think this is over? The potion, I mean.” I ask, waiting for the intense feeling of want to return.
“Guess we’ll have to wait and see.” He mumbles, “If you need me again though, just call.”
“Will do.” I reply, “We do have a lot to talk about when I’m feeling better though…”
He laughs nervously before trying to hide it as a cough before agreeing, “Yeah, uh, we do.”
“I’ll see you after my nap, Dean.” I answer with a slight smile, “And then we can see just how quickly I forget my name.”
He snorts and I can hear the smirk in his voice, “Set a timer, Sweetheart, it won’t take long.”
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#supernatural#spn fanfic#spnfandom#dean winchester#dean winchester x reader#dean winchester x you#sam and dean#jensen ackles#jensen fucking ackles#dean winchester smut
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Flirting with fire (Pt. 2)
OPLA! Sanji x Reader
A/N: Read PART ONE first before this one. Enjoy :)
The next morning, you made your way to the Baratie’s bustling kitchen, ready to start another day of culinary adventures. As you walked in, the savory aroma of cooking filled the air, but your attention was quickly drawn to the hushed voices coming from the pantry. Curiosity getting the better of you, you lingered by the pantry’s cracked door, unintentionally eavesdropping on a conversation between Zeff, the grizzled old chef of the Baratie, and Sanji, the suave and passionate cook.
Zeff’s gruff voice reached your ears, “Little eggplant, you’re not fooling anyone. I’ve been around long enough to recognize love when I see it. I’m aware of your feelings for y/n. You’ve been taking too long to confess.” Sanji, who was usually quick with his retorts, tried to deny his feelings, “Oi, Zeff, what are you talking about? There’s nothing like that going on.”
Zeff’s eyes bore into Sanji, his tone stern, “Boy, I know you better than you know yourself. Don’t try to hide your heart from me.” Sanji sighed, seemingly defeated, and admitted, “Yeah, Zeff, you’re right. I’ve got feelings for her, but I don’t know how to confess. I can’t even find the right words.”
Zeff chuckled, “Confess? You, who can woo female customers with ease, can’t confess to the one who matters most? That’s rich.” Just then, you cleared your throat, making your presence known. Zeff greeted you with a knowing smile and gave Sanji a subtle wink before leaving the room, leaving you two alone.
An awkward silence hung in the air as you began gathering ingredients from the pantry’s shelves. Sanji, seemingly unable to contain his emotions any longer, followed closely behind you. With a gentle push, he closed the pantry doors, leaving you both in a secluded, intimate space. The tension between you two was palpable; your bodies were practically pressed against the pantry shelves, and you could smell his signature cologne, a mix of tobacco and spices, even more intensely at such close proximity.
Breaking the silence, Sanji took a deep breath, his voice sincere and filled with longing, “I can’t hold it in any longer, y/n. You mean everything to me. When I’m cooking, it’s your smile I picture. When I’m dreaming, it’s your face I see. I’ve been hiding my feelings because I was scared, but now, I can’t. I love you more than anything in this world.” Your heart skipped a beat at his heartfelt confession, and you couldn’t resist any longer. You pulled him closer by his tie, capturing his lips in a passionate and fiery kiss. The world outside the pantry seemed to disappear as the two of you lost yourselves in each other’s embrace.
As the kiss deepened, your hands explored each other’s bodies, igniting a fierce desire that had been smoldering for far too long. Sanji’s hands cradled your face, his lips fervently moving against yours, tasting the sweetness of the forbidden fruit they had longed for. You could feel the rapid beat of his heart, synchronized with your own, and the heat between you intensified with every passing moment. In your passionate frenzy, you stumbled and crashed into shelves, knocking over cans and creating a cacophonous mess. From a distance, Zeff’s voice interrupted your heated moment, “Oi, you two lovebirds better get to work before the whole ship catches fire!” Giggling and flushed with desire, you both separated reluctantly, leaving the pantry to resume your duties in the kitchen. But now, you carried a secret, a newfound passion for each other that had finally been confessed.
As the day went on, the two of you shared secret glances and subtle smiles, knowing that your love had been revealed and that your future together was now a tantalizing promise.
©𝐘𝐎𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐈— Any sign/evidence of plagiarism made from outside this name will be dealt with by whatever means necessary. Legal action may occur if non fanfiction works are plagiarized.
#one piece x reader#op x reader#one piece headcanons#op headcanons#one piece fluff#one piece x black!reader#anime x reader#op x y/n#op x you#op hcs#opla spoilers#opla sanji#opla hcs#one piece live action#one piece x you#one piece x y/n#one piece hcs#sanji x y/n#sanji x you#sanji fluff#sanji vinsmoke#vinsmoke sanji x y/n#vinsmoke sanji x reader#vinsmoke sanji#sanji x reader#anime fanfic#anime x poc!reader#anime x you#anime x y/n#anime fluff
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⌗ a night alone, c. sturniolo
chris x fem!reader
summary: you and chris have the house to yourselves and decide to do something other than… inappropriate things, and fail. (lmao)
disclaimers!: established relationship, oral sex (male receiving), mild smut, kissing, cursing, use of y/n,
a/n: yall. its short. all my shit is short unfortunately, I APOLOGIZE. I WILL MAKE LONGER FICS IN THE FUTURE. until then, HERES A CHRIS FIC FOR MY CHRIS GIRLS 😜 | also didn’t proofread <3
the boys were out for the night, so it was just chris and i. we often have nights to ourselves, but we usually choose to do more… inappropriate things. that’s why i wanted to have a simple date night tonight.
“okay come up!” i yell down toward his bedroom. chris jogs up the steps, and his eyes widen at the kitchen table.
“what’s this?” he smiles.
spread across the wooden table were all the ingredients to bake cookies, and a few candles. he looks over to me, and smirks. “oh, you shouldn’t have.” he says in a dramatic tone, walking toward me.
he puts his arms around my waist, and i place my hands around his neck, slightly looking up at him. “i thought it’d be a nice change for our night alone.” i grin back.
chris glances back over at the table, and then back at me with the sweetest smile ever. “and it is.”
i kiss him, impatiently, and he tilts my jaw upward with his index finger. a repetitive sound interrupts us, and i look over at my phone on the table. “sorry.” i sigh.
“i set a timer for the butter to thaw.” i chuckle, holding up the now soft, stick of butter. chris laughs and then stops abruptly, looking at all the ingredients again.
“wait,” he starts, “does this mean we’re not fucking?”
oh my god.
“chris—” he continues walking around the table until he gets to the assortment of cookies. “wait, babe.”
i scoff. “yeah?” he picks up the cookies, and turns it so i can read the title. “these are bake only, they’re pre-made. we dont need all these ingredients.” he laughs.
i snatch the cookies from his hands, and read the title again. “shut the fuck up.” i mumble. chris takes the cookies from my hands, and places them on the table.
“so, i guess we can fuck.” he smirks.
“chris, noooo. we need to do something different.” i gesture to the cookies he just put down. he places his hands on my waist, lifting me up like it’s nothing.
i automatically wrap my legs around his waist, and he places both hands on my hips, holding me up.
“please, baby.”
i gently bite my bottom lip. that’ll do it for me.
“fine. but only for a little.” chris smiles instantly, and smashes his lips against mine. the kiss is hungry, like he couldn’t get enough of me.
he sits me on the counter, and slowly lifts up my nightgown. i pull it over my head, and do the same to his shirt, then he throws it on the floor.
“pants.” i say through a kiss.
chris’s hands leave my hips, and begin shimmying his pants down. i hop off of the counter, and adjust him so he’s leaning against it. “what’re you—” i interrupt him by putting my hand over his mouth.
he nods, and i move my hand, using it to pull down his boxers. chris’s breathing becomes rapid, and i smile to myself.
i hold his shaft in my hands, and spit over his tip. chris watches while it slowly trickles down from my lips and onto him.
he trembles as it slides down his shaft, and i hold eye contact with him while i move my hand up and down, spreading it.
i had grown bored of touching him with my hands, so i move my mouth to his cock, and wrap my lips around his tip. i look up asking for his consent, and chris gives me a quick nod.
i took more and more of him, stopping halfway because i couldn't swallow any more. i started bobbing my head on his cock, collecting the precum.
“ah, ah…” chris moaned every time i put more of him into my mouth, and felt his tip hit the back of my throat.
“please, ma…” he spoke through whimpers, and grabbed a handful of my hair. chris thrusts into my mouth, bruising my throat.
i tap his thigh, and he comes to an abrupt stop.
i pull myself off of him, and his cock leaves mymouth with a pop sound. “too rough?” i wipe my mouth, and stand up, kissing him.
“it’s okay. i like it when you’re like that.” i smirk.
chris pulls up his boxers and his pajama pants together, and looks around for his shirt. i slide my nightgown back up my legs, and straighten the straps on my shoulders.
“so, we should probably make these cookies now, huh?”
#sturniolo triplets#chris sturniolo#christopher sturniolo#matt sturniolo#matthew sturniolo#nick sturniolo#nicolas sturniolo#sturniolo fanfic#sturniolo x reader#sturniolo smut
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Something Old, Everything New
Summary: After Arthur has a run in with the past, Y/N provides the shelter she’s always hoped to.
Words: 4,227
Warnings: Swearing, Smut
A/N: @tally-kiza made the request that prompted this story. Cal, I hope it's what you're looking for! 😂 Heartfelt thanks to @sweet-nothings04 for beta-ing, helping with the summary, and her neverending kindness and support. 💜
If you have any thoughts or questions, please comment, feel free to message me, or send me an��ask. Requests for Arthur and WWH are open!
The shopping list was broken into three sections, each separated by a thick, felt-tip line. Ingredients for a recipe Y/N was keeping secret. Refills of temazepam and fluoxetine. And supplies for light repairs he was determined to finish before the weekend was out.
Through poverty and an absent landlord, Arthur had become something of a handyman as a teen. He'd figured out how to snake gooey clumps of hair from the shower drain, unstick stuck drawers with a spritz of WD-40, patch the hole in the wall left by his fist. A job done himself was a dollar saved, a buck to spend on cigarettes or butterscotch candies, depending on how his week went.
Tapping each item on the paper, he dodged a pallet of tightly stacked potting soil and ambled down the fourth aisle of Garber's Value Hardware and Housewares, his first stop and a staple that'd served Burnley since 1926. Paint thinner stains dotted the creaky wooden floor, the shop's knob and tube wiring was a decade out of code, and the fumes of last year's grease saturated the air.
The red bins of O-rings, washers, and valve seals were poorly sorted. He sifted through grimy plastic baggies, searching for a standard size set. The kitchen faucet had been leaking for weeks, and the drops grew ever fatter and faster. He decided on a variety pack, then aimed for the door section for hinge lubricant, as vegetable oil no longer quieted the bedroom door's squeaks and squawks.
He was midway through the yellow bottle's directions when an old nickname smacked him in the back of the head.
"Hey, Fleck the Speck!"
The jovial call made Arthur's joints as stuck as an old drawer.
"Hell, it's been what, twenty years?" Richard continued, dark blue mechanic's overalls swishing as he advanced on Arthur. The guy thrust a friendly hand his way. "You just kinda fell off the face of the earth. How've you been?"
Arthur glared at that hand.
Richard McMahon was an old classmate, from Cowther's Middle School straight through sophomore year at Gotham High. Being held back two years hadn't stopped him from reaching the level of cool to go by Rick, not Dick.
And he was one of the many people Arthur could have gone to his grave without seeing.
Fleck the Speck had caught on amongst Rick's group of rowdies like too much Brylcreem. Dingy hair and ratty, ill-fitting clothes had made Arthur a target to rival a dart board. Rick's hair had been just as greasy, his t-shirt couldn't keep up with his stocky teenage body. But youth hierarchy demanded someone be shit on, and via his natural awkwardness, Arthur attracted all the flies.
But that was then, and this was now, and if Arthur interpreted Rick-not-Dick's tone correctly, he saw him as a regular guy.
"I'm good," Arthur said, returning the shake. The man grabbed him in a sweltering grip. "I- I had a lot going on. With my mother and everything."
"Good, good. You working now?"
"Yes. I'm a comedian."
"No shit! You still doing that laugh?"
That Rick would bring up Arthur's condition wasn't a shock. It'd been a source of endless entertainment for his peers. He took half a step back. "Doing that laugh?"
"Yeah! It was a riot, really threw the teachers off, too. Got any kids?"
Rapid fire questions with teasing cloaked as compliments dizzied Arthur, like he was a returning guest on the Murray show under the lights and the heat. "I'm married."
"Me, too. You remember Shelly Petters?"
Shelly Peters had sat to Arthur's left in US History, a course he'd struggled with like all the rest. Getting dates confused was too easy, and it was far too hard to concentrate while awaiting next month's allotment of government peanut butter and wondering if Penny had left on the oven again.
In her pink miniskirt and flowing, flaxen locks, Shelly had been a beauty fit for the cover of TV Guide. During the mid-term, he'd frowned at the blue test booklet, the words swimming in front of him. Frustration channeled its way to his knee, bouncing it against the bottom of the desk. Bang. Bang. Bang. The force of his grip snapped his pencil in two. The pointed half fell and rolled across the floor, right into Mr. Galloway's shoes.
As if helping Arthur was the most natural thing in the world, Shelly had offered her spare. He'd done his best not to chew on it and fallen in love.
But his heart was as poorly schooled as his mind. As sweet as that recollection was, it was interlinked with the truth of how rare kindness had been.
He'd untangled his curls, slicked them back with tap water. Tucked his sweater into his trousers, rolled up the cuffs to hide the holes. When he'd caught up to her by her locker, Rick had stuck one heavy foot between them.
"What'd you do to your hair?" The rowdies formed a half circle, a pack of wolves, and the leader addressed his eager audience. "You gonna put on a show for us, Fleck the Speck? How about telling one of them jokes of yours? Knockknockknockknockknock!"
"Richard, stop it," Shelly hissed.
Laughter forced a cough from Arthur, his fingers clawing his trousers in an attempt to get control over his breathing. The tightening of his throat turned tears into a nakedness that choked. He'd fled to the boy's bathroom on the third floor. Locked himself in the last stall. Wiped his snot with cheap toilet paper and sleeves. What a fool he was for trying to raise himself above his station. The station shared by them all.
A blink returned Arthur to the present. The raw quality of his voice couldn't be restrained. "Shelly married you?"
"Right out of high school," Rick said. "Our daughter graduated this year. It was fun, seeing the old gym again. It hasn't changed one iota." His thumb gestured at Arthur's baggy cardigan, a hitchhiking motion. "Looks like you haven't changed much, either."
Nostalgia coated the comment, not meanness. But the same sense of worthlessness engulfed Arthur, joined by a rising fury that this man - this- this asshole - maintained the power to tear him down. To leave him the same boy who'd fled to the bathroom, when he'd tried to be more than allowed.
Crumpling his shopping list, Arthur shoved his first in his pocket before he could shove it in Dick-not-Rick's nose. Blunt nails dug his palms. "I can't believe she'd marry someone like you."
Offense deformed the man's face. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"Don't you remember? All you did was make fun of me."
"Hey, everyone had a nickname back then. It was all a joke."
"Yeah, well. Comedy is subjective, Dick, and I never thought it was funny."
"We were kids. Kids do stupid shit." A hint of reticence twitched Dick's mouth. Lifting his chin, he straightened his features into calm. "I'll say hi to Shelly for you. Let her know you're doing all right. She'll be glad to hear it."
Then came the words that hit Arthur like a hammer.
"You really haven't changed at all."
~~~~~
Y/N brushed stray strands from her hair, the usual stragglers after a fresh cut. Wilma, the hairdresser she'd been seeing for three years, had called out sick, so she'd met a new beauty school graduate named Nancy. Though shy about feathering, the girl was eager to blunt cut. Y/N had halted her with a raised hand just as she was about to give her bangs.
Crossing the living room, Y/N paused long enough to turn on the TV, where a rerun of the Honeymoon Game would start at five. Arthur and she had become experts at guessing each other's answers and often ended those nights with more than a kiss. Being newlyweds themselves, it was the perfect watch.
And what a blissful eight months it'd been.
All on her own, she'd made the leap to move to Gotham at an age when most people had a spouse, a house, and two cars in a garage. Self-sufficiency had been her middle name for over a decade. She hadn't planned on getting remarried, instead relishing in finally having her own path.
But fate had introduced her to the kindest, most wonderful man she'd ever met, and the whole world had shifted.
It was a delight to have a helper, a partner. A person she could come home to and who could come home to her, who brightened her day with love and laughter. Who made the smallest domesticities matter, because she could share them. And being married to Arthur was fun.
She'd jotted a shopping list this morning, starting with ingredients for skillet enchiladas, a recipe he'd played at trying to peek. Then he'd perched on the kitchen counter and named all the hardware he needed, counting on his fingers as he went. There was something undeniably alluring about it. A masculine confidence that tickled her insides, a suaveness that came naturally when he let go enough to let it.
Alone, she would have waited at the bottom of the super's list for small fixes. She was good at keeping house, but repairs were outside of her league, Class A when her skill set was Class C. Now, sitting at the dinette table with a cup of tea and the Gotham Times, she couldn't stop picturing Arthur holding a wrench. The flex of his bicep as he twisted it, his broad stance as he bent over the sink.
Heat burned her cheeks, a good dose of fluster. Squeezing her thighs together, she turned the page.
Just as she'd read a statement from Gotham's Office of Management and Budget protesting any attempt to expand aid for the unemployed, the front door unlocked. She pushed the paper aside, tightened the bow of her pencil skirt. "There you are, Mr. Fleck," she said, rising to help with the shopping bags. "Did you find everything?"
A single sack hung from Arthur's twitchy knuckles. Brown paper. Wrinkled. The size of a lunch bag.
Head tilted to one side, she tested its light weight with two lifting motions. "Was Ed's closed?"
"No."
She looked inside. Hardware jumbled at the bottom, along with a distinct lack of orange, plastic bottles. "What about your medication?"
"Don't worry about it."
He shoved his tan jacket on the hook next to hers. Fingers smoothed his hair, turning into claws, a pressure that blanched his temples. Warmth fled her face, replaced by a concerned chill, for it was a move she recognized. A jarring and painful echo of tough times.
Without the usual peck, the usual caress, the usual smile, he walked past her to the living room. Grabbed the remote from the coffee table and flicked off the TV.
One foot forward before she held back. "Arthur, what's wrong?"
No answer, no turn towards her. No indication he'd heard her inquiry. He jerked the chair from his desk and dropped into it. Yanked open the top left drawer and smacked his journal to the surface.
Y/N's breath caught in her breast. When Arthur was upset, a pattern came into play: he wanted space, and she respected him by giving it. A behavior she attributed to his years of isolation and not a small amount of fear. Yes, she'd gotten used to it. But that didn't make it any less irksome, any less hard on her heart. Without the whole story of what'd happened, she found herself at a loss as to how to help. A fog had rolled in and she was a dinghy, drifting through choppy waters with a broken masthead.
She forced herself to browse the cupboards, search for what to piece together for a comforting meal. A can of peas sat on the second shelf. There was half a box of macaroni, but they'd used the last jar of tomato sauce on Monday. In the freezer, one Salisbury steak Swanson stood its ground, next to bags of chicken breasts and sweet corn. It was all about as comforting as cold chowder.
In the doorway by the dinette table, she observed him anew. He hunched over his desk, muttering to himself. He'd shed his cardigan and shirt, his trousers, even his worn white socks. They lay strewn on the other side of the room divider to his right. Out of sight but, judging from his posture, far too firmly in mind.
She approached with quiet, measured steps. Stopped six inches behind him. His every sinew screamed dissent. Ballpoint pen scratched across paper. She pushed herself to her tiptoes to peer over his shoulder. Though his forearm covered two-thirds of his journal, enough of the slanted script cried out to her.
"...bad guys alwaze win at life. 35 years here and I got one prize!!!!! What??? How fucking long can peeple like Dick make me feel awful? I don't want anything to hurt me any more. They never think what it's like to be someone like me. This city is too crowded and full of Dicks. If I..."
Testing the waters of what Arthur was willing to receive, she laid her hands on the nape of his neck. It was cement under her palms. Thumbs worked lines up and down on both sides, beneath brown curls that brushed knuckles. After a minute, after he hadn't pushed her away, she said, "You don't have to shut me out."
His scrawling stopped.
Lines became circles as she moved outwards. The pads of her fingers traced his clavicle, massaged the bony knobs of his shoulders. But his muscles grew tauter, and she realized the swirling strokes stung instead of soothed. Reluctance ached her sternum. She swallowed against the worry he hated.
He'd been in worse shape before and he'd come to her. He would come to her again soon.
In the meantime, she'd meet him where he was. Care for him the best way she knew how. "I'll get the groceries and stop by Groves." Her lips brushed the shell of his ear. "And be home before you have a chance to miss me." One final squeeze before she turned to leave.
Quick as a whip, his hand locked around her wrist.
Relief flooded her frame. A welcome, wished for reaction to the man she loved. The man she was devoted to, the man she adored opening up enough to need her. She went to his side, assuming he wanted to embrace her, press his face to her stomach. Let go with her, into her. But his posture remained rigid, a ramrod of resentment. His whole body appeared to be filled with waiting - but for what?
He traced the veins on her forearm, mapped a path to her palm. Her fingers curled around his. Low and rumbling, he pierced the silence. "Say you want me." A rasp equal parts desperation and demand. "Tell me." When his gaze darted to hers, the smoldering in his stare said he wanted to possess her.
She'd let him.
One sideways step to stand before him. Her rear rested on the lip of his desk.
"I want you," she said. She placed his palm on her breast, guided his thumb beneath the placket of her blouse. Popped the buttons with a flick of her fingers. "Put your hands on me."
A harsh inhale as he shot upwards, grabbed her chin with greedy hands, and shoved his mouth to hers. Her bottom lip caught on his teeth. He groaned and lapped the sting away. In one smooth motion, he shoved her skirt to her waist and lifted her onto the desk. The pages of his journal crumpled under her ass.
He grasped her collar, tugged crepe to her elbows. She snaked between their torsos to open the front of her bra. Her breasts spilled onto him and he groaned. Smothered her mouth with a savage intensity.
His clothed erection bumped her vulva, flint striking stone. Aching, her nipples tightened against his chest, his hair tickling, teasing. Thumbs hooked around the lace trim of her panties. He shoved them over her hips, down her thighs, past her knees. When the cotton reached her toes, she kicked them off. They landed on the console stereo, hung indelicately from the corner.
Dragging her ass to the edge of the desk, Arthur pulled himself out of his briefs. She fell backwards onto her elbows, knocked over their framed photograph, taken on a night to remember. It fell to the wooden surface with a slap. He cupped her labia, slipped a pointer between her lips. Long enough to test her readiness, to test her willingness.
The desk lamp's gentle light played across his ribs, his toned abdomen, his thighs. Breath shallow and ragged, she eyed the tip of his cock. Purplish red and shiny with slick. Stare fixed on her center, he took it in his palm. She gulped. Her knees fell further apart as she canted upward, her damp folds brushing his knuckles. He pumped once. Twice.
And then he breached her.
A rough cry flew from her throat. One leg curled about him, her heel at the small of his back, her other foot braced on the seat of his chair.
Bent over her now, he propped himself on one hand. Cupped her neck and sheathed his shaft completely. He crushed her to him for a fierce, firm kiss. The tip of his tongue pressed for entry. But before she could grant it, he moved to nuzzle her temple, her jaw.
Steady and sharp, his thrusts impaled her with the taste of something primal. The hot glide of flesh on flesh. His thighs rattled the pencil drawer. He grunted. Fucked faster, harder. The desk threatened to bang the wall.
His sweaty face fell to the crook of her shoulder and her eyes fell shut. The sensation of him inside her was powerful, overwhelming. A stretch that scorched in every way she wanted, forever and always.
This felt different, though. In the past, she'd invited him to take comfort in her body. To let their coming together be a haven, their union be a defiance against the tragedies life had dealt him. Besides the night she'd confessed she loved him, he hadn't taken her in that way. Arthur doing so now confirmed the strength of their connection. How much he trusted her, how much he honored her, as equally as she trusted and honored him.
Her heart longed to comfort him, too. To heal whatever had happened, to make the present and future brighter than the past. She sealed that vow with a kiss to his cheek.
His pelvis jerked unevenly, stammering between her thighs. She clutched his shoulder, gripped his forearm. A ragged moan tumbled past his lips, onto her skin. Her calves rose to squeeze him tight, tighter. Fingertips digging her hip, he stiffened, his hot essence splashing her walls. Gasps mingled, humid and heated. His abdomen quivered against hers.
Once he'd softened and steadied his breath, he slipped out of her. Arming his forehead, he stumbled to land in the chair.
Slowly, she clambered down, one foot meeting the carpet, then the other. She left her skirt at her waist but peeled off her blouse. Wiped their mess from the desk and tossed it on the pile of his clothes. She smoothed the pages of his journal, shut its leather cover. Smiling, she picked up their picture. Straightened the easel and put it in its place.
When she turned towards Arthur, he appeared to still be in a state, but one not altogether unpleasant. Gaze dazed and out of focus, dark brows lifted and lines of his face relaxed. And was that blush the result of his brazenness or his orgasm?
"Feeling better?" she asked, slinging an arm about him as she sat sideways on his lap.
"Uh huh."
She gave a throaty little laugh. "Good."
Sticky with perspiration, his forehead met her cheek. Her nails ran over his scalp, caught in damp, knotted curls. He heaved a long sigh, which goosepimpled her skin. Quiet blanketed them, tranquil and lovely, sunlight that sliced through the earlier fog.
But clouds did remain, questions she couldn't let go. Who was Dick? And what had he done to her husband, both then and now?
Rumbling disturbed the peace, a loud squeal like a balloon. Chuckling, Arthur splayed his fingers on her stomach. "Sorry about the groceries."
"Don't be." She covered his hand with hers. "I have an idea."
~~~~~
At a nearby diner, in a booth by the kitchen, over a blue-plate special of baked beans and hot dogs, Arthur told Y/N about it. All of it. The bullying, the cruelty of laughter, the taunting he hadn't always understood but a tone as familiar as not fitting anywhere. How reading had been hard and therefore it'd been hard to learn, even when he'd had the will. ("No one else had any problems. I felt stupid all the time.") That the awfulness he'd been destined to encounter every day made it a ten round fight to get off the couch, get washed up, and get to school.
And that he didn't get - would never get - how a guy as mean as Dick McMahon could wind up with the nicest girl in class.
Arthur scraped his spoon across the plate to snag the last bite of beans. "I dunno. I didn't want to be upset. That happened when we were kids."
"It's normal to be upset by assholes," Y/N countered. "What happened wasn't okay. Twenty years doesn't change that."
"But shouldn't it be easier by now? He said I hadn't changed but I have." Arthur wanted to believe that. He had to believe that.
"There're people I don't ever want to see again, no matter how much they've changed. Why do you think I moved to Gotham?"
The corner of his mouth quirked. "You're right, I just-" A slight shake of his head as he broke off. Dick had already stolen enough of today. Arthur wasn't about to allow him the rest. He retrieved a cigarette from his pocket and lit up. "I don't want to talk about it anymore. I'll be fine. I just want to enjoy being with you."
"You're always welcome." She caught the waitress's attention with a raised hand and ordered a decaf and slice of Pineapple Dream Pie. "We can get groceries tomorrow. Your refills, too. No, wait. Groves is closed Sundays."
"I have enough until Wednesday. Don't you have an appointment that morn-?"
"Schcuze me, ma'am?"
At the end of their table stood a man, clad in an orange and white Gotham Knights basketball jersey. A fiery K was emblazoned on his cheek. Arthur wondered where the rest of the letters had fled to.
The squire teetered on drunken knees. "Can I have your catchsup?" he asked, gesturing towards the glass bottle at the other end of the booth. Arthur handed it over. The man offered a goofy grin and shuffled away.
When he'd rounded the counter, Y/N smirked. "I hope he ordered a pot of coffee. Anyway, yes, Dr. Shapiro's at ten. Just a routine visit and he'll check my IUD. I got it after I moved, so it should have a few years left in it."
Ready to tease, Arthur wrinkled his nose. "But why? When we met, you said you weren't looking."
"Well, I wanted to be prepared. And it's a good thing, too, because that changed when you came along."
Chuckling, he rubbed the nape of his neck. A very good thing, indeed.
She poured the last of the creamer in her coffee, gave it a slow stir. She put the spoon on the saucer and lifted the beige mug. For a moment, her eyes had a faraway look. Her lashes fluttered it away. "Do you ever feel like you missed out, having only been with me?"
A flinch shot through him. "No. Why would you think that?"
"It's silly, I know. It's just that I was married before. I dated. You didn't have all that. And I'm older than you." The sheepish tuck of hair behind her ear. "I just wonder sometimes, that's all."
The cash register opened and shut. Order Up! bellowed from the kitchen. The shop bell ting ting tinged.
Arthur rested his cigarette in the table ashtray. Slid out of the booth and slid onto the bench seat beside her. "I'm comfortable with you and you care about me. I care about you, too."
A bright blush as she drank. Contentment washed over him, a happiness he hadn't known he could have before being with her. In this diner, in this city, in this life. A life he couldn't have dreamed of in that high school bathroom stall, snotting all over himself and asking why don't I fit, why don't I fit, why don't I fit?
"You know what's changed?" he started, folding her into his side. "I'm not alone anymore. Instead of getting angry, I should've bragged about that."
Beaming, she angled to face him. "You'll have plenty of chances."
She brought the mug to his mouth. Though he disliked milk in his java and one sugar wasn't enough, he stole a quick sip. Then he kissed her, sipping from her lips to wash the bitter away.
~~~~~
Tag list (Let me know if you want to be added!): @harmonioussolve @ithinkimaperson @sweet-nothings04 @stephieraptorr @rommies @fallenstarsabyss @gruffle1 @another-day-in-chuckletown @hhandley80 @jokerownsmysoul @rafaelbottom @ralugraphics @iartsometimes @fleckficgirl
#arthur fleck#arthur fleck fanfic#arthur fleck smut#arthur fleck x reader#arthur fleck x ofc#joker 2019#arthur fleck x female reader#watchwhathappens
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for a request, would you be interested in doing a jealous/possessive hyoga x g/n reader?
jealousy, jealousy.
hyoga akatsuki x gn!reader
synopsis; hyoga has no reason to be jealous over ryusui but he can't himself...! notes; do not ask if i'm interested because if you request hyoga, i WILL do it. i love that man so much
the sounds of conversation were dulled out by the constant movement of the water waves which were repeatedly attacking the persues.
much of the excitement and loud noises were emitted from the central area of the ship, where francois resided snd their bar. it was lively there; everyone was huddled around francois, wondering and guessing what sort of intoxicating concoction they'd come up with next. after all, everyone was desperate for a way to escape after the heinous events they'd been through.
you, however, were farther away from the action. trying your best to avoid the new drunks that were scattered across the ship. the only thing that slightly piqued your interest was the fighting practice going on between tsukasa, mozu, homura and of course, hyoga. still, their rapid moevements weren't enough to free you from your bored state so you just sat on one of the chairs, dissolving into your own thoughts.
until, a familiar blonde pilot came into your view.
'yn! i knew i'd find you here!' ryusui exclaimed with a big, bright smile. however, his happiness was cut short when he saw you, 'what's with the long face?' he suddenly asked, concerned laced in his tone.
'nothing-! what is it you wanna say?' you stammered once you realised that ryusui was indeed attempting to communicate with you.
'i asked dear francois to make you a perfect drink! it has alcohol, hope you don't mind it but also some mint and...' ryusui trailed off on explaining the ingredients and the way in which francois prepared your alcoholic beverage. eventually, he pushed the drink towards you, with his large, brown eyes indicating that he wanted you to give it a taste test.
immediately after taking your first sip, you felt enlightened, free. the alcoholic beverage was swoon swept into your body, making you intoxicated. you couldn't get enough, it was simply elegant. so after your first sip, you took another and then another...
soon, you too, were in a drunken state of mind. all thanks to ryusui, who was just happy that you were finally enjoying yourself. ryusui had also gotten himself a few drinks from francois, who joyfully made them for him and you.
unbeknowest to the pair of drunk young adults, there had been hyoga who was keeping his golden eyes fixated on the two.
it was quite odd for hyoga to ever feel such a way. normally, most people won't even bother disturbing his significant other as he'd always be there by their side and glare at anyone who dared to get a little too friendly with them.
however, right now, he was busy exchanging attacks with mozu. he'd fought him already so he saw no reason for him to do it again. but it was required by him to do so; after all, he'd finally announced that he'd be loyal to the kingdom of science and they had just started to trust him. threatening ryusui would do no good to his reputation nor would be to halt his fighting practice.
nonetheless, hyoga felt bothered. he couldn't prevent himself from gazing at the pair every now and then. this action also resulted in his fighting moves becoming rather sloppy. but could he prevent himself? absolutely not. who wouldn't be bothered when a far more attractive man is basically wrapped around his significant other.
hyoga wasn't the type to consider himself to be jealous. he had no reason to be. but with the way ryusui had his arms wrapped around them and the way they both were laughing and giggling with each other made his heart drop--whether it was in jealousy or resentment, hyoga didn't know.
when hyoga saw ryusui grab their arm and practically drag his lover to francois' bar, he couldn't handle it anymore. he was really starting to dislike ryusui--was the captain not aware that yn was already taken?
hyoga had had enough. he simply let his spear drop to the floor as he trailed behind his lover and ryusui. this action of his earned a snicker and a degrading comment from mozu but the man immediately stopped his taunts once he saw hyoga's dark gaze.
once hyoga caught up to the pair, the first thing he did was grab a hold of his lover. he used one arm to tear them away from ryusui's grip and the other to gently caress their face.
his face turned into a frown after he realised that his lover had had too much to drink and were terribly intoxicated by the alcohol. how could they have been so careless?
'say, ryusui, don't you think they've had too much to drink already?' hyoga spoke, trying to keep his voice as monotone as possible.
'hmm...? we've barely drunk 4 glasses though-!' ryusui tried to explain.
'yeah, i think i'm going to have a few more!' yn confirmed.
'oh come on, you're on the verge of passing out. you know you can't handle alcohol very well.' hyoga snapped back. to be fair, he wasn't lying. his lover was practically falling asleep--their eyes were barely open and they could not form a coherant thought at all.
before ryusui could answer or before his lover could object, hyoga had already picked up his lover in a bridal-style manner and had already begun to depart the main deck of the ship.
he was right after all, his lover was just too tired to even deny any of his claims because as soon as hyoga swept them into his arms, they found themselves falling closer into a deep slumber.
the captain would've objected but he knew better than to get on hyoga's wrong side and he could not deny that indeed, 3 glasses of alcohol had rendered yn pretty helpless. so, he let them go but was determined to drink with them another time.
finally, his lover was far away from ryusui's grasp could hyoga finaly breathe properly.
upon gently settling his lover down onto their bed, hyoga realised that their lover had fallen asleep. a small smile crept it's way onto his features as he layed down next to them...
#dcst x reader#dcst hyoga#dcst#dr stone hyoga#dr stone imagines#dr stone x reader#dcst imagines#hyoga x reader#hyoga#hyoga imagines#hyoga akatsuki#hyoga akatsuki imagines#hyoga akatsuki x reader
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🥧 Crumbs And A Smile 🥧
Original story
Ao3 version
Pie recipe
A small slice of maple buttermilk pie sat idly on a plate at the supper table as Philip and Caleb hovered over it with hungry smiles on their faces while holding forks in their hands.
Their excited eyes started to sparkle as both boys stared down at the rich dessert before them.
The pie looked so perfect and well-made.
Its flaky and tender gold crust was complemented by the creamy custard filling, which was pure and smooth thanks to the well-mixed blend of brown sugar and maple syrup.
To enhance the pie's tanginess and sweetness, both lemon zest and cane sugar were sprinkled on top as a finishing touch.
When it came to pie, Philip and Caleb shared a similar fondness for the food.
However, the dessert was quite costly in the Puritan town of Gravesfield.
A single slice cost the boys all of their income that they had earned last week from their butter business.
But, in a way, the expense was worthwhile since maple buttermilk pie was their favorite treat.
Plus, purchasing the ingredients to bake their own at home was a no-go since Philip was far too little to use or be near the oven, and Caleb's baking skills weren't exactly the best at his age.
"Caleb, Caleb, Caleb!" Philip began as his voice chimed with such excitement.
"Who gets the first bite, huh?" he asked, eagerly wanting to know as he inquired the question to his brother a second time. "Who, who! Tell me! Tell me, tell me, tell me!"
Philip was unable to cease his buoyant bouncing.
This causes Caleb to let out a chuckle at his hyperactive little brother as he smiled a gentle smile at him, closing his eyes.
"Well," the blonde began. "I figured we'd cut the piece into two equal halves so that we both get one. That way, it's fair!" Caleb said, finishing his sentence in a tone that was both cheerful and calm.
His brown eyes begin to open back up again.
They spot Philip and soon take note of his messy, new appearance.
The brunette's mouth was now covered with pie as nothing but crumbs remained on the plate.
"Yay!" Philip cheered. "When do we get to do that?" he innocently asked, licking his lips.
Caleb was taken aback by his brother's rapid eating.
He didn't hear a single chewing sound come from him when his eyes were shut.
In spite of the slight shock, however, he chuckled, ruffling the pie theif's hair some.
"Hmm," he hummed. "Perhaps maybe next time, if someone doesn't decide to go gobbling it all down," Caleb answered, gently scolding his brother while sending him a stern look that was laced with playfulness.
Philip giggled with a grin, showing off all his teeth, which had bits of pie stuck in them.
Caleb could feel his teeth ache at the sweet sight.
This leads him to chuckle a third time
As sweet as the piece of pie could have been in his mouth, nothing was sweeter to Caleb than seeing Philip smile.
He would rather see him happy than have all the sweets in the world.
#(BRO IS POSTING THIS ON PIE DAY 🍁 🧈 🩷 🥧 🥹)#(what a sweet way to celebrate)#the owl house#owl house#toh#emperor belos#belos#philip wittebane#kid philip#belosfanstakeover#caleb wittebane#kid caleb#ao3#a03#ao3 link#a03 link#ao3 writer#a03 writer#fanfic#fanfics#fanfiction#fanfictions#writing#my writing
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aug objective: actually finish Meng Xi Shi's Fourteenth Year of Chenghua
I've started and stopped it twice before, but that was due to the english translation not being complete at the time.
Starting over from the beginning and I forgot how much I enjoyed him adopting the lil 8 year old to be his sister and them actually becoming like real siblings ❤❤ and then badass Brocade Guard boss basically moves him in and wifes him up without him noticing. I love how clear it is that the 3 of them have a richer, happier life together as a family. It's not dramatic & angsty, it's just subtle undertones cushioning the plot - just them becoming a warm & safe home for each other.
I also enjoy all the ancient china crime solving. A classic mystery fan, I grew up on Agatha Christie. After reading half-way the last time, I went looking a translation of The Celebrated Cases of Judge Dee (and then got sucked into late Qing/Republican true crime Murders of Old China by Paul French).
Random highlighted passages so far...
[Tang Fan finds himself in possession of an 8 year old]
“Can you take me in, Sir Tang? I’ll be really hardworking, and not give you any trouble. I don’t want to go to Nanjing, I don’t know the Young Lord that well!”
Tang Fan didn’t know how to react. “You being willing to come cook is fine by me, but the question is: will Young Lord Li be willing to let you go?”
Hearing that his tone had relaxed, she suddenly got excited. “He will, he will! I heard the steward say that the house has too many people in it right now, and they won’t need so many later on. Isn’t that them being eager to lose a few? I eat a lot and don’t work that much, so they would definitely be willing to let me go and wreck someone else’s house!”
“…” Is it really good for you to be that frank?
Ah-Dong stuck out her tongue. “I misspoke, I misspoke! Me being too happy is all to blame. Don’t take it to heart at all, I’m actually great! Just pretend that you didn’t hear what I said right then!”
[Tang Fan finds himself on a date (without knowing he's on a date) and then moved into his date's house. Sui Zhao is efficient like that.]
He took a long detour, and when he leisurely got back home, he discovered that someone was already standing at his gate — wasn’t that Centarch Sui?
“If I had known before that you would be here so early, I would have come back first thing so that you wouldn’t be standing in wait at the entrance!” Tang Fan promptly sped up towards him, an apologetic smile on his face. “It’s no problem,” Sui Zhou answered.
Tang Fan found that he was also carrying some food.
“My home is far from yours, so I’ll just stay with you for tonight. Do you mind?”
“Ah? I don’t mind, I don’t mind! My break is tomorrow, so we can talk through the night by candlelight!”
Mister Tang lived the legendary bachelor life to its entirety. ... “Where did you buy this crispy tofu? And why is it so delicious?” he wondered. “I had some ingredients at home,” Sui Zhou answered concisely. “You can cook?” Mister Tang was wholly shocked. Sui Zhou gave a rare hook of the lips, saying nothing. A few breaths later, Tang Fan was still soaking in his shocked emotions. “Brother Guangchuan, you can actually cook? That’s really, really, really…” He ‘really’ed for half the day, but didn’t get out what the ‘really’ was about. Then, a rapid knock echoed in from outside the door. “That’s really too amazing!” Tang Fan took in a deep breath. ...
“Since you’re in such contradiction with the Li’s, what are you going to do about housing?”
Tang Fan hadn’t told him the thing about him currently looking for board everywhere, but he still took note of it. His meticulous mind was apparent.
“The capital is big, and there’s a lot of rooms. I’ll likely be able to find some.”
Sui Zhou thought about this for a moment. “If you want, you can come live with me.”
Tang Fan was taken aback. “Is… that alright? Wouldn’t your wife be upset?”
“I haven’t yet taken a wife,” Sui Zhou replied coldly.
“There has to be someone like a wife, right…?”
Sui Zhou was not pleased. “I haven’t accepted any concubines, nor slipshod maidservants.
Before Tang Fan could ask anything else, he proceeded to say, “My parents live with my eldest brother. I moved out on my own. Don’t worry about that.”
With all that said, since the other was inviting him there in good faith, it would be poor of Tang Fan to decline again. He ended up clasping his hands together, saying with sincerity, “I’ll bother you for now, then, Brother Guangchuan!”
[Sui Zhao continues marrying in Tang Fan]
" Furthermore,” he paused to look at Tang Fan, icy expression finally suffused with a trace of helplessness, “you’re a Dynasty-ordained official that’s run off to write an anonymous book like that. If that gets out, your reputation likely won’t be kept.”
Tang Fan chuckled. “What’s wrong with doing it? It’s not just me, but a lot of people in Court that do this, too. No one can tell who’s who with pen names, anyways. How could somebody support their family otherwise? Relying on salary alone? If they don’t want to be corrupt, they can only take a different approach..."
“I have a salary.”
Tang Fan just kept going. “Wouldn’t you say so, Guangchuan… eh? What’d you say?”
“I have a salary. No need to worry.”
...Hearing what he said, Tang Fan was stunned for a while, after which he started to laugh wildly. He ended up having to support himself on Sui Zhou’s shoulder in order to keep steady, rubbing his own stomach in pain. “Ouch… well, then, us siblings will depend on you from now on, Centarch Sui. Once I use up all my salary, you’ll have to help me out!” “Mn.” Tang Fan still couldn’t resist wanting to laugh, but he was a bit touched, as well. He knew that not everyone was capable of making the man say stuff like this. //
“Today is a family banquet, second brother. The Old Madam said not to bring outsiders, so why did you bring someone we don’t know? There’s women here, too! He’s not even someone close enough to be considered family! You’re really being too careless!”
The speaker was the wife of Sui Zhou’s older brother, Lady Jiao.
... As soon as she was done, [Sui Zhou] gave her an indifferent answer: “From now on, he’s to be considered family.”
Those words were so authoritarian, no one could say anything for a moment. They all stared at Sui Zhou.
// “How would Ah-Dong be able to hold you back?” he asked. “From now on, after you get your salary of grains and cash from your paper money, hand half of it over to me. I’ll safeguard it for you. If you ever need to spend more after using up what you have on hand, you’ll need to justify that to me first. You can use it only after I agree to it.”
Sui Zhou had never been fond of meddling in others’ business. Almost all of said business that he had cared about in this lifetime had come from Tang Fan’s head.
It was fortunate that they had the kind of relationship they had. If someone else had been ordered to do this, they would feel it difficult to understand, and might even turn hostile. Someone like Mister Tang, who was different from the average person, just nodded with delight. “That’s great! With you stopping me, I won’t spend so recklessly!”
From that point on, Millarch Sui not only had a heap of things to look after in the Northern Bastion Office, but also had to help Mister Tang manage his money when he returned home. He truly did wield total power, both foreignly and domestically — how very envy-inducing!
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The Walk Home
~ Itto x Reader ~ Pt. 2 (Fluffy, Slow Burn)
(Read Pt. 1 here!)
~~~~
I watched in slight awe of the man before me, enjoying the second meal i’d prepared for him which i had triple checked to make sure none of my bean like or based ingredients were in it i could only terrify myself with the idea of going out of business over a customer losing his life from my cooking.
he seemed ecstatic once again when i’d brought it out, his mouth practically drooling as he gripped his chopsticks from the previous bowl. i could already see half the bowl gone once id set it down on the counter. i had to fight back the grin as to keep up the “not so creepy restaurant owner” persona i used for business.
this time, with not so many eyes on me and an interest in the person who seemed to be so important (self proclaimed or otherwise) and let alone not even human who’d come to my shop. hugging my tray to my chest and ignoring the slight heat radiating from the spot the ramen bowl was on, tilted my head to get a better view of his face.
what i could see of it anyway, he was so busy stuffing it, it wasn’t until most of the bowl was gone and he had to pick something from his teeth that he noticed me.
“Ah! sorry, i totally didn’t see you there, this ramen is just.. ugh! it’s so good!” he grunted with a smile and a laugh, once again lifting the bowl and tilting back his head.
i swore i must check the quality of my bowls once he leaves i could hear the cracking and shaving of the porcelain.
i didn’t bother responding, continuing my people watch as i found my eyes drawn to his throat, the rapid movement of him swallowing the broth and whatever else was left into his gullet. it was impressive, almost scary, but i figured him not being human was the cause of that.
i scanned the rest of his body from what i could see from behind the counter, his toned figure down to the markings on his body and where they led. i wondered if his entire body was as toned as his upper half seemed. i wondered if he had tan lines from his clothing, it was obvious he was out and about a lot, and judging by the slight dirt stains along us arms, the shoulders and back of his clothes, i assumed he was one to be outdoors.
but, due to a lack of awareness and a quickly rising interest in him, i hadn’t noticed him watching me, same as he hadn’t noticed me before this.
i let out a small yelp in realization, looking up at his face as “be professional! be professional! BE PROFESSIONAL!” rang like alarm bells in my head. but seeing as i’d been caught there was no real way to deny it now.
“I am so sorry, i promise i don’t usually stare i’ve just never seen someone enjoy my food as much as you seem to.” i said slightly shakily, a little worried that i had offended him with my staring.
he rose a brow with a smirk, putting his chopsticks in his bowl and stretching up his arms behind his head, his mouth curling up into a content smile from the stretch.
“no need to apologize i know my presence can be star stuckening.. or is star strikening… star striking? whatever it is you like what you see.” he teased, earning a slightly less friendly smile from me but a smile nonetheless.
“i must admit you are very interesting, Itto, what are you if that’s okay to ask? i don’t mean to offend.”
“Oh!” he seemed surprised if even asked such a question. “well i’m an oni! arataki numero uno itto, the one and oni of course. i’m a red oni to be specific.”
“an oni? a full blooded oni? that’s incredible! excuse my ignorance but i thought that oni’s had.. y’know.. died out a while ago. i’ve never met or heard of one before.” i placed down my tray, walking closer to the counter to be more in tune with their conversation.
he seemed taken aback by my approach, leaning back from the counter as a result as he shrugged.
“nah! sure i mean there definitely aren’t as many but it’s not like there aren’t ANY left, i mean you’re looking at one!” he laughed, crossing his arms over his chest. “i was raised by my granny so i learned a lot about humans growing up, it’s why im such a hot shot with—“
suddenly, heavy, metal rattling footsteps could be heard from atop the wall that had the main roadway on the top, the Hatamoto guards making their rounds. they’d come every other hour or so, depending on the day. just walking around looking at different people who they found in the streets of the city.
but when the same man who had been busy bragging about his awe installing reputation practically leaped over my counter onto my side, grab my face with both hands with one over my mouth and the other at the back of my head, pull me down behind the counter with my back to his chest and sitting between his legs, i couldn’t tell if this would be my death bed or my next bleaching area.
my gasp was muffled by the sudden large hand over my mouth, smelling of dirt and slightly too fragranced soap which i assumed was used to try and get rid of the dirt smell. didn’t work well.
he held me close to him, his head facing the top of the counter as if he was listening for something. although, i couldnt really process what he could be listening for because i could barely process the fact a man i knew nothing of was currently holding me down and covering my mouth.
was it the guards? was he trying to avoid them? was he a fugitive? did he commit some heinous crime that they were going to throw him in prison for? would i be considered his accomllice simply for giving him the meal he paid for and having him hiding in my shop?
so many thoughts ran through my head until the sound of his soft laughter filled my ears, turning my head the little i could to look up at him and find his head hung, his nose practically in my hair as he laughed. my chest heaved with every breath, adrenaline slowly subsiding as it turned into confused anger. why was he touching me like this?!
i almost bit his hand before he removed it himself with a small gasp.
"oh gosh, i am so so sorry, i should've said something before i dragged you down," he said, his hands behind him at his sides as he looke down at me.
I turned my upper body to look up at him, realizing just how large he was, even if he was sitting down. then again, he seemed bigger close up with me sitting between his legs.
"you.. why did you.. GUARDS--"
"Hey! shhh!!" he slapped another hand to my mouth and held a finger to his lips, a slightly pleading look in his eye as he once again checked above him, his ears seeming to droop a bit when the heavy footsteps got louder, approaching the shop.
"please please i promise ill explain if you just tell them in not here," he quietly pleaded, his hand slowly coming off my mouth. "i swear on my oni blood that i will just please.. dont tell them im here." he repeated, clasping his hands together. his eyes became fuller, as if a cat's.
ugh.. i hate that it worked.
i stood up on my feet, finding two guards walking down my walkway up to my shop. itto sat by my legs, looking up at me as i talked to the guards. i could feel him lean against my leg, his cheek pressing against my thigh as his hand placed itself on the ground between my legs.
the conversation was short, the guards saying they heard a voice down here and came to investigate, and proceeding to ask if i had seen an oni that fit the description of itto a bit too well. with a knot in my throat i shook my head to tell them i hadnt. i couldnt remember the last time i had lied, not to a friend, not to a professor, not even my own parents. so lying to the authorities made my stomach churn and i could only pray that the guards wouldnt take notice of my nervous demeanor.
they didn't, and with a simply thank you and one taking a menu for what i assumed to be futher notice, walked away, so did the rest of the guards down the road until their steps became faint and then nonexistent.
i exhaled as heavy as a marathon running danuki. a hand over my chest as i felt the weight on my thigh remove itself and said weight stand to his full height.
"haha! phew that was a close one, i really owe you one i cant thank you eno... oh." he said, cutting himself off as i looked up at him clearly distraught.
"i suggest you get to explaining. im not above running to go get them back and say i found you squatting in my kitchen by the radishes and carrots."
"no! no! ill tell you, i swear im not a criminal and im not a robber, stealer, kidnapper, murderer or anything! i just might of uh.. set off my collection of onikabuto on the training ground of the Hatamoto guards and uh.. may have caused a bit of damage." he let out a sheepish chuckle as if that would entirely explain everything.
"... so youre just trying to get away from accountability." I replied, leaning my weight on the counter with my arms crossed. he released another sigh.
"of course not, well i mean i run from them a lot cuz theres apparently a bunch of different laws the shogun put in place that id never even heard of before until i broke them but the real reason is because that woman that was here a little while ago, shinobu? yeah shes tired of paying my bail so i promised id never get caught again! and well.. im not!"
he flashed that damned grin that i was starting to think he knew the effect of the entire time again, making me groan as i shook my head.
"well if thats your story then i guess.. but this is a one time thing im not gonna put myself or my business in danger because you want to be reckless!" i scolded him, as if i hadnt met him not even two hours ago.
he hung his head in defeat and nodded, accpeting the scolding and effectively dropping the topic.
he found his way back to the other side of the counter, sitting himself down as we continued to chat while i got another customer or two. soon, closing time rolled around and although itto had realized he'd not only the meeting shinobu had tried to remind him to show up to, but as the sun set and i told him i needed to close, he refused to leave until he "used his oni ability to make sure i got home safe! the owner of such a delicious ramen shop needed the utmost protection of course."
i was too entertained to say no.
closing time took a lot less time than it usually did, with itto's help of course. new crates were put safely in storage and any unused ingredients were either trashed or put back into storage. the bowls which did in fact have a few tiny insignificant fractures in them were cleaned. the counters and floors were wiped and swept and every door and lock (that could be anyway) was locked. i noticed the oni stare particularly hard at the rusted lock on the main door, but figured he was simply asking why i even had it still, which i often asked myself at times.
then came the treck home, walking home was a little more pleasant than that of the walk to the shop in the morning. the many monsters and creatures a like found sweet slumber in the blanket of midnight air. the moon illuminating all of what would need to see to walk peacefully.
the walk was silent at first, only the mismatched footsteps of us both as he struggled to keep at pace with me. his stride allowed him much more room to walk ahead, along with his obvious leg muscle which i could only imagine meant how far and fast he could run when it counted.
i started to notice how he'd always end up a few steps ahead of behind him, his tongue sticking out from his tightly pressed lips as he stared at my shoes, seemingly trying to match my speed and stride, although that was obviously a bit uncomfortable for him as he could barely pull his shoes apart from hitting one another in every step.
"what are you doing?" i asked with a soft laugh, admiring his focus.
"trying to walk with you." he replied matter of factly, still keeping his eyes on my shoes.
"but youre already walking with me."
"i mean walk in sync! like everytime your foot steps down so does mine. here," he put out an arm in front of me, stopping me from walking as i looked down at it in front of me, then running my eyes up to his shoulder. were the veins always there? i surely couldnt have missed them if they were.
"just wait a second, here," he removed his arm and held onto my shoulder, pulling me closer as he tapped my left thigh, telling me to take a step, to which he did the same.
he then tapped my right thigh and so on, sending me into a laughing fit from how articulated he was being compared to what he seemed to have been doing just a few hours ago.
"hey dont laugh! walking in sync is fun once you get the hang of it!" he chuckled, his hands on his hips and a smirk on his face as he shook his head.
another 20 minutes of laughing and joking about whatever came up, it almost saddened me as we reached my front door step.
"thank you for walking me home, itto, and for helping me close up the shop." i finally said, accepting the day was over, and i couldnt wait to get in the shower and wash the day's efforts off my skin.
itto smiled and took a step back, bowing with a smirk and a hand at his stomach. "my pleasure, m'lady! it was definitly worth the fright of having a mouse scatter across my foot."
i shrieked, jumping as i looked along the ground, itto letting out belting laughs as he held his stomach. i tossed a pebble at his horn and rolled my eyes, turning to my house. "good night, arataki itto." i smiled, waving as he stood up with a cheerful wave.
"good night!" he called, and with a small pep in his step, got a full ten steps from my door before he fell to his knees, only imagining how upset shinobu could be when he went back for missing the meeting. hopefully it wasnt anything toooo important.
#fanfic#fanfiction#arataki itto#arataki gang#genshin x reader#genshin impact#genshin oc#genshin impact itto#genshin itto#itto x reader#itto#genshin fanfic#story#read more
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Just in case if requests are still accepted Christmas 🎄 one-shot with Futaba Sakura x Photographer Boyfriend! Reader
Wow not me doing this on Christmas too- Pls I decided to finally be productive. Anyways, merry Christmas to everyone who celebrates ^^ As always, requests are open!
Snow Days (Futaba x Photographer reader)
With the snow fluttering like the glistening stars in the sky, and the breeze making whirlwinds outside the house, Futaba Sakura and y/n stayed bundled up inside the Sakura residence.
“Y-y/n g-go make me hot choco this instant! I command thee using my debug commands!”
A soft chuckle left your lips as Futaba shooed you away. You knew that in less than two minutes of being away from the warm bundle the two of you created on the ground, Futaba would wiggle her way to you (blanket included).
So there you were, making some sweet hot chocolate for the very demonic looking gremlin seated on the floor next to your feet. It almost looked like she was going to feast upon you should the hot chocolate take any longer to make. Still you knew it would never come to that because she would begin to wine over losing her player number 2 to her appetite. That thought alone left a smile on your face as you looked upwards to the frigid, yet serene, view of the snowy landscape that remained untouched outside.
It was finally Christmas time and while the presents were already opened, with all the wrapping paper yet to be cleaned, the festivities had yet to begin. Sojiro had gone out to get the ingredients ready inorder to prepare a heartful meal for the three of you, so it was just you and Futaba left to hold down the fort until the fort master came back.
While gazing out towards the bundles of snow outside, you thought of a fun way to pass the time. “Fu-chan, lets go out and build a snowman!” you exclaimed, excitement verberating in your tone.
The moment you looked down at your feet, you noticed a missing bundle of cuteness. Your eyes scanned the area somewhat alarmed by Futaba’s sudden disappearance only to notice her fully decked out in winter gear, ready to jump into the snow.
“C’monnnn, what’re you waiting for??”
“Well, I was waiting for someone to drink the hot chocolate I made with my blood, sweat and tears-”
“OH, I almost forgot, sorry ehe-”
And in the blink of an eye, she was right in front of you again, gulping down that hot chocolate at speeds that even sonic would be in awe with. All the while, you looked on at the sight with concern. ‘I hope she doesn't burn her insides-’
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
You were an aspiring photographer. Actually, you met Futaba while taking pictures of the new Phoenix Ranger figurines at the annual con.
She startled you of course. One moment she was bombarding you with questions, the next she hid behind someone you thought might be her brother. It was a really sweet moment, to you at least. It had been a while since you met someone who was so passionate about the show. That alone caused the two of you to meet occasionally to talk about the show.
With the snowman sitting in the background and Futaba running about in the forefront, you grabbed your camera and began to take photos. This was an opportune moment for photography you figured, especially since your girlfriend looked best when freely enjoying herself.
Alas, the moment she noticed you, a smirk befell her features and before you knew it, an attack was set off in your direction. The snowballs came towards you at rapid speeds and you jumped to take cover from the barrage. That was until you found your footing again and began your own attack.
It wasn’t long before the war of snow had the two of you so exhuasted that Sojiro had to physically drag the both of you inside. Once again, the two of you were a bundle of warmth on the floor. Sojiro sighed at the sight, handing you two a hot coffee and curry. He felt like this was bound to happen and was very much ready to bring out the kotatsu’s to warm the two of you up after.
After taking a few sips of the bitter coffee, you reached out towards your camera Sojiro so kindly placed on the table. As you began to scroll through your photos you realized you caught a few in the attack. A hearty laugh left your mouth as you saw the blurry photo. The moment you showed Futaba, the two of you were a laughing mess on the floor, hysterically clutching your stomachs to stop the laughter but the more one laughed, the other did too.
Soon Sojiro came back with the kotatsu, and the moment he noticed the two dying kids on the floor, another exhuasted sigh left his lips with a chuckle following it.
“I swear sometimes…”
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Roland Kayn — Sorales II (Reiger Records Reeks)
Sorales II by Roland Kayn
The deeper a dive taken into the elastic sound worlds conjured by Roland Kayn, the harder the bedrock obviously underpinning his alternately molten and frozen universe is exposed to be. Sorales II, the most recent release in the growing Kayn archive series, beggars description and confounds expectation yet again through a very surprising sort of unification.
Of course, and as always, the music is riddled with disruption. Given its 2005 vintage, that’s no surprise, and there’s plenty of what sounds like tape manipulation, that dizzying pitch shift and wrinkling effect that pervades the Little Electronic Milky Way of Sound. We are treated to the huge and all-encompassing “major chord” at 10:18, or the intriguing, because so rare, rhythmic layers that occur at least twice, the first forward and the second in reverse. They disappear with the rapidity of their genesis. Even the near silences adorning the last several minutes don’t so much disrupt as posit moments of repose in a quiet storm. The non-sequitur at 28:11 isn’t one really, and more on it presently. In those and all other cases in the 33-minute miniature, disruption is not as much of a primary ingredient. Its presence is subservient to another element, a fresh but slowly moving deep-down thing, a unity in diversity of which those New England Transcendentalists would have spoken with a mixture of pride, admiration and Classical allusion.
It seems a shame to evoke the concept of a drone in this particular instance. Yes, seasoned Kaynians will certainly recognize the long sounds that germinate, ebb and flow, often with fundamental disruptions of their own, especially throughout Kayn’s later works. This drone is different. It’s neither Vanessa Rossetto’s looping palimpsests nor Keith Rowe’s hiss, fizz and crackle conglomerations of radio static, interference, room buzz and charcoal, though it sits adjacent to both. Charles Ives would understand. His “Unanswered Question” or “Central Park In the Dark” contain string passagework that exists in similar spaces, even if the harmonic language diverges. Kayn is a Romantic, and the girders of the second Sorales prove it. Triad and elusive counterpoint emerge and merge from the cross-pollinations of tone and color that bunch, breathe, bunch again and writhe in a way that’s nearly human. Mountains and rapids form a landscape of constant motion dotted with reflective pools of moonlit tone throughout the pitch spectrum, including a single icy note approaching the stratosphere and illuminating all below. Everything is slathered in reverb, never distasteful but definite, a foundation of distant calm beneath lopsided cycles in movement. Listen closely as elements surface, half-repeat and sink. Even the disruptions, like the afore-mentioned sudden juxtaposition and the final gesture of the work, grow out of what has just occurred and out of the reverberant atmosphere containing it. It’s all cold, sometimes even windy as pitch blurs into frosty air, but it’s breathtakingly beautiful from beginning to end.
Marc Medwin
#roland kayn#sorales II#reiger records reeks#marc medwin#albumreview#dusted magazine#cybernetic#electronic#classical
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The problems with being unique
Fandom: Helluva Boss
Rating: M
Pairing: Striker x OC
Warning: This fic contains rape and non-con elements.
When Striker wasn’t off killing someone, you could find him at a bar drinking whiskey, bourbon, or rum, tonight he had finished a job and now he was enjoying a well-deserved drink while waiting for Calus to join him. Once his first Whiskey was finished Striker headed to the washroom for a piss, telling the bartender to get a second one ready for when he returned which the bartender nodded at him in understanding. Finishing up in the washroom Striker made the move to exit when a hand wrapped around from behind him, covering the pale imp’s mouth just as he was about to exclaim a question instead yelping as a sharp quick pain stabbed into his neck. A numbing sensation instantly started creeping down his body at a rapid rate as he struggled to pull whoever was holding him from behind off, tail rattling violently.
“Relax…relax…” a smooth yet gruff toned voice whispered into Striker’s ear.
Side glancing Striker picked up enough detail that he could tell the one holding him was a hell hound, the bathroom door swinging open moments later to reveal a female goat demon from sloth wandering in. Striker’s arms fell to his sides as he lost feeling in them, the hound easily yanking him towards the back grimy brick wall which he shoved him up against causing the pale imp to release a grunt as he was held by the back of the neck.
“You weren’t lying, he is a nice specimen,” The goat cooed.
“Mind if I try out the merchandise?” The hound asked causing Striker to snarl.
“Sure, just don’t break him…the buyer wouldn’t be please,” The goat warned.
“I’ll be careful,” The hound chuckled.
Striker felt the hounds one hand trace down his back to his ass where it roughly groped at his ass cheeks, his tail weakly rattled as he tried to fight through whatever drug was immobilizing him. The hound growled lowly as his hand moved from Striker’s ass cheeks around to the front of his jeans where he undid Striker’s belt and undid his jeans before yanking them to his mid thighs along with his boxer briefs. Panic raced through Striker’s veins as the hound pulled him slightly sideways to get a look at Striker’s front portions instantly letting out a whistle.
“Wow, he’s got some unique hardware,” The hound smirked looking over to the goat demon again.
“Hmm, a barbed cock huh? Good thing you’ll be the one getting fucked although there will be some unique clients who’ll pay to ride that,” The goat demon quarried to herself causing Striker to curl a lip with another snarl despite a familiar, unwanted heat quickly pooling in his lower abdomen.
“Looks like the ‘special ingredient’ is taking affect,” The hound noted as Striker’s cock leaked precum onto the floor despite being unable to get hard thanks to the drug in his system.
“Yep, he’ll be in rut shortly,” The goat demon revealed, sending a shiver right through Striker like an arrow, between the drug paralyzing him and the one making him go into rut he knew his stupid incubus side would be triggered.
“And a bitch ass incubus like you will be begging for my cock in no time,” The hound growled.
Striker’s eyes grew wide, he knew! How the fuck did he know? Was he already putting off hormones? Striker’s thoughts were interrupted when the hound pressed a thick finger between Striker’s cheeks to his entrance. The hell hound pressed Striker into the wall harder as he pressed his finger roughly passed his tight ring of muscle causing him to groan out in pain.
“Hmm, he’s tight too. I out did myself this time,” The hound crooned.
As Striker’s mind began to fog over with the need that came from his submissive incubus side he tried to fight past the drugs, wanting nothing more then to escape. Memories that he buried deep in his subconscious starting to raise their ugly heads and for a moment his mind told him ‘No one is coming to save you, you’re just their slave now! Just like before’. The hound pressed a second finger into him making Striker grit his teeth with a subtle whimper that escaped his chest, sharp pain shooting up his spine each time the hound thrust his fingers then he felt it…something was running down his thighs. The goat demon’s eyes seared into Striker, analyzing every little detail from his scared pale skin to the puddle of precum starting to form on the ground between Striker’s legs. The hound simply shrugged at seeing the small amount of blood running down Striker’s thighs, just about to remove his fingers when the bathroom door burst open catching both Striker’s attackers’ attention, the hound yanking his fingers free at that moment as they turned to regard the massive draconic figure standing in the doorway, crimson eyes glowing from beneath the brim of a cowboy hat. The figure snorted with a deep guttural growl that probably rumbled the entire bar, dripping in a venomous rage as he stepped towards the hellhound who immediately dropped Striker. Striker slid down the wall to the ground with his chest heaving, face flushed down his neck and whatever control he still had quickly started to slip away with the scent of his mate heavy in the room. The spines on Calus’s tail rattled slightly as they rose like hackles on a cat, lifting his tail up while taking a stance that made the hound nearly wet himself on the spot.
“Shit! Why is a Dracony here?” The female goat demon exclaimed in a shaky tone.
“What! Have! You! DONE! To my mate!” Calus snarled out, clenching a hand into a fist.
“Mate? Oh, fuck!” The female goat demon exclaimed again as her brain swiftly realized the horrid mistake they just made.
“Get me out of here!” The hound exclaimed with a series of whimpering cries, running to get past Calus. The Dracony snarled again as he turned on a dime, raking sharp claws across the hounds back causing him to fall to the ground with a thud. The goat demon managed to leave however the hound was crawling after her with pained cries only to receive the end of Calus’ tail spines straight through his back, those hair spines breaking off as he pulled it back. The hounds blood seeped down the drain in the middle of the bathroom floor as Calus gave a snorted growl only to turn around to face Striker again, expression instantly softening.
“Striker…? Babe…?” Calus questioned taking a knee by his mate, one arm wrapping around Striker’s shoulders to pull the pale imp into his chest. The drug that paralyzed him was starting to ware off allowing Striker to reach up and clench a hand in Calus’ T-shirt.
“C-Calus…I…” Striker managed to whisper out, body thrumming with his forced rut.
“Sshh, I’m here. Let’s get you out of here,” Calus whispered, nuzzling Striker’s temple. The Dracony could smell the scent radiating off Striker from his rut as he shrugged off his trench coat to cover his mate before picking him up bridal style.
Calus carried Striker to the penthouse not far from the bar, taking him immediately to the master bedroom where he laid him on the bed. Calus gently stripped Striker of his boots and jeans simply tossing everything to the floor as Striker started whimpering louder and louder the more the paralysis drug wore off, his body shaking slightly, his cock starting to get hard. Calus stripped his own T-shirt off to allow Striker to touch his skin while further stripping him till the pale imp was nude. Striker tried to sit up only to cry out in pain instantly alarming Calus who gently held his mate.
“Hush love, hush. What happened?” Calus wondered pulling Striker in close as the pale imp buried his face in his mate’s nape.
“Hmm…it hurts…” Striker whimpered out. Calus immediately knew what Striker was referring to, glancing down the imp’s body to his bare ass where he caught sight of blood that was smeared between his cheeks and down his thighs.
“Oh, fuck…Striker,” Calus worriedly whispered, brows knitting together in concern.
“I need…Ya…please…” Striker begged, lost to his submissive side despite being in pain.
“I know, come here.” Calus declared, maneuvering Striker gently as he crawled onto the bed, keeping the pale imp on his side as much as possible. Calus propped himself up slightly against the headboard while Striker lay on his torso, one of his hands moved to lightly caress at Striker’s chest as the other caressed down Striker’s back till he could slide two fingers between his cheeks. Striker whined into Calus’ chest as the Dracony’s fingers rubbed against his entrance, uncertain if he wanted them to push in or not luckily that wasn’t a decision he needed to worry about, Calus gently kept rubbing them against Striker’s entrance as he concentrated his healing energies.
Striker’s pained whimpers turned more needy as Calus’ abilities healed Striker’s wounds swiftly leaving him in a horny, needy state. Once satisfied with his healing Calus pulled his fingers away from Striker’s entrance, sliding them to the base of Striker’s tail instead where he applied a pinching-rubbing motion. Calus’ other hand went to wrap around the base of Striker’s cock while he leaned down to capture the pale imp’s mouth in a deep heated kiss making him buck his hips in desperation. Calus wasn’t sure what they’d done to Striker, but the imp was in full rut despite not being anywhere near his rutting season, the thought caused anger to surge in Calus’ gut however he kept it in check because at this moment Striker needed him to focus. Stroking liberally along the base of Striker’s cock Calus matched the pace of his fingers on Striker’s tail base, tongue liberally exploring Striker’s mouth till his whimpering moans hitched, hips jerking with the distinct feeling of warm cum spilling over the Dracony’s fingers.
“Easy love…easy…” Calus whispered as Striker’s hands clenched and he released shaky open-mouthed cries, cum still spilling over Calus’ hand.
Striker’s body eventually fell limp against Calus, chest heaving for air as his body hummed with the shockwaves of his orgasm. Calus pulled his hand from Striker’s cock to gently caress along the imp’s hip, his other hand sliding up to cradle Striker’s shoulders.
“I’m so sorry babe…” Calus whispered into Striker’s hair, nuzzling lovingly into it. Slowly Striker’s senses returned to himself as his rut subsided a little.
“C-Calus…Ya saved me…” Striker whispered into his mate’s chest.
“Of course…did you think I wouldn’t?” Calus wondered.
“For a moment…yeah…just like back then…” Striker stammered out in a quiet tone.
“You’re not alone anymore, I’m just sorry I couldn’t have gotten there sooner,” Calus explained gently rubbing his hands all along Striker’s body.
“…fuck…why? Why this shit again?” Striker ground out, eyes squeezing shut in frustration both at how his body was betraying him and the memories swimming through his mind.
“I know babe, they drugged you, right?” Calus guessed, rubbing his hand along Striker’s back.
“Yes,” Striker simply answered.
“Are you feeling better?” Calus asked.
“I’m…getting hard again,” Striker winced out, hips shifting to thrust down onto Calus’ stomach.
“You want me to jerk you off again?” Calus offered.
“Don’t Ya…want me ta…get Ya off?” Striker stammered out, rocking his hips against Calus’ torso, bottom lip drawing up between his teeth.
“Nah, let’s focus on you. I can’t fuck you because of the injuries I just healed but, what if I suck you off this time,” Calus offered.
“Ugh…okay…” Striker agreed.
Calus smiled then helped Striker straddle his chest, one hand wrapping around the base of the imp’s cock while his other hand lightly gripped his thigh. Pressing the flat of his tongue to the tip of Striker’s dick Calus flicked across the slit, lathing along the underside of the head before wrapping his long tongue around the shaft just below the head while engulfing it. Striker let out a breathy groan, leaning back with his hands on Calus’s stomach for leverage, head tipping backwards. Calus sucked gingerly while bobbing his head to provide just enough sensation along Striker’s shaft between the head and his first set of spines, stopping occasionally at the head to suck liberally with the odd scrape of teeth that made the imp’s thighs quiver. Wrapping his hand around Striker’s mid shaft with his fingers splaying to accommodate the imp’s barbs, twisting his wrist to add further stimulation. Striker rewarded Calus’ efforts with a guttural groan, hips thrusting into the feelings till his abdomen tightened again. Calus held Striker steady so that he didn’t thrust upwards with the release of his second orgasm, swallowing Striker’s cum that flowed into his mouth.
“Finished?” Calus chuckled lightly as Striker’s head lulled forwards to look down at the Dracony through hooded eyes.
“Mm-hmm,” Striker hummed in confirmation.
Gently Calus eased Striker down to lay draped across the Dracony’s torso on his stomach, making certain he was on his side a little to prevent his barbs from digging into either Calus himself or Striker. Caressing lovingly along Striker’s back Calus pulled the blankets over his mate, kissing him on the top of his head as the imp happily nuzzled into Calus’ chest. Calus had to admit he embraced Striker a little possessively as he vowed in his mind to find the bitch who’d tried to kidnap and sell his mate.
#drama#angst#romance#helluvaboss#oc#smut#original character#Helluva Boss fanfiction#Helluva Boss Striker#Fanfiction#Non consensual#Striker x OC
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Celebrating #EnchantedAsianDay with my friend @janice.kya
This photo is inspired by @jessica_drossin 's soft ambience portraits, evoking a magical realm created by simple ingredients - humans and nature.
This spring has been strange for me. I came back from a journey in Japan.
I came back to a world unfolding before me, brimming with rapid ideations and AI creations.
I am talking to young college graduates who are lost, confused, unable to find passion in their jobs.
I want to use this photo, to remind me, of a simpler narrative.
My greatest wish, is to just sit here with you, watching sunrise, sunset, embracing low tide, high tide, observing passersby appear, disappear.
My simplest joy, my simplest desire, my simplest love - is to hold your hand in this moment.
A moment of our own sacred space, untouched by the distractions of the outside world.
Model: @janice.kya Color toned with Inferno and Iris from @the.colorlab Butterflies: Butterfly overlays by @jessica_drossin Photography @jajasgarden
#portrait photography#portrait#portraiture#portraitphotographer#fantasy photography#fantasy#fairytales#butterfly#beauty#simple#asianbeauty#nature#humanity#healing#simplethings#outdoor
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Delicious, Easy-To-Make Smoothies For Rapid Weight Loss, Increased Energy, & Incredible Health
Click here to get a Smoothies diet...
I’ve been trying forever to lose the last 10-15 lbs. and tone up, and that’s exactly what happened, so I am very happy. I feel great about myself, I don’t find myself holding in my belly anymore, and feel confident about myself and people have noticed that about me too...and my love handles are gone! I couldn’t be happier with this whole program, and I definitely recommend this to anyone looking to lose a little or lose a lot.”
Click here to get a Smoothies diet...
This Is NOT just a big book of smoothie recipes. You're getting the same proven 3-Week weight loss and health improvement program I share with my private clients. The secret that makes the Smoothie Diet so effective is the Custom 3-Week Weight Loss Schedule. All the smoothies are given in a very specific sequence and frequency to maximize your results. For example the nutrient and ingredient ratios vary week to week to make sure the weight keeps coming off and stays off.
I’ve used my knowledge as a Health Coach and what I’ve learned from all my clients to ensure this program delivers rapid results. I have meticulously researched specific ingredients and nutrient properties to maximize the effectiveness of this program. All you have to do is replace certain meals with the smoothie recipes I provide and watch as the pounds melt effortlessly off your body and your energy levels skyrocket.
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Explore the Rooms at Mahogany Manor: Bed and Breakfast in New Brunswick
In the heart of Saint John, New Brunswick, lies a gem for travelers. Mahogany Manor Bed and Breakfast offers historic charm, modern comfort, and warm hospitality. This restored Victorian home offers a unique place to stay. It reflects the region's culture and beauty. Let's explore what makes the rooms at Mahogany Manor so special. This bed and breakfast New Brunswick is the perfect place for your next trip.
A Historical Haven with Modern Comforts
At Mahogany Manor, history comes alive within its elegantly designed walls. Built in the late 19th century, the property retains much of its original character. The common areas and guest rooms have rich mahogany woodwork. They also have intricate moldings and antique furnishings. However, the bed and breakfast has modern amenities. They ensure a comfortable stay for today's travelers.
Each room at Mahogany Manor tells its own story, blending timeless elegance with thoughtful design. Let’s explore the distinctive charm of the accommodations awaiting you.
The Garden Chamber: A Retreat into Serenity
The Garden Chamber is a haven for those seeking tranquility. This room boasts a soothing ambiance, enhanced by soft, natural hues and tasteful décor. Large windows let in sunlight and show off the garden, a highlight of the property.
The Garden Chamber has plush bedding, a big private bathroom, and free Wi-Fi. It's perfect for relaxing or remote work. This room is a peaceful escape from daily life. Enjoy the view with a cup of tea, or curl up with a good book.
Cranberry Wine: A Taste of Luxury
For those who appreciate refined elegance, the Cranberry Wine room is a must-experience. Named for its rich, warm tones, this room exudes sophistication and charm. The antique furnishings, paired with luxurious linens, create an atmosphere of timeless grace.
This room is ideal for couples celebrating special occasions or solo travelers looking for an indulgent retreat. The Cranberry Wine room also features a private en-suite bathroom, ensuring privacy and convenience during your stay.
Mahogany Rest: Classic Charm Meets Comfort
The Mahogany Rest room captures the essence of the manor’s Victorian heritage. With its mahogany wood accents and vintage-inspired décor, this room feels like a step back in time—without sacrificing modern comforts.
Spacious and inviting, Mahogany Rest offers a king-sized bed, cozy seating area, and a serene view of the property’s lush surroundings. This room is perfect for guests who value both style and relaxation, making it a top choice for longer stays.
Personalized Hospitality
At Mahogany Manor, your experience extends far beyond the comfort of your room. The hosts pride themselves on offering personalized service that makes every guest feel at home. Upon check-in, you'll be greeted with warm smiles. You'll get tips on local attractions, plus a delicious, fresh breakfast each morning.
Breakfast at Mahogany Manor is a culinary delight, featuring locally sourced ingredients and seasonal flavors. Whether you prefer a hearty meal or lighter fare, the offerings are sure to please every palate.
Explore the Surroundings
The prime location of Mahogany Manor makes it an excellent base for exploring Saint John and the greater New Brunswick area. Just steps from the manor is Saint John's historic uptown district. It has charming shops, vibrant restaurants, and bustling markets. Don’t miss the renowned Saint John City Market, the oldest continuously operating farmers’ market in Canada.
Nature enthusiasts will appreciate the proximity to stunning outdoor attractions, such as Reversing Falls Rapids and Irving Nature Park. After a day of adventure, returning to the comfort of Mahogany Manor feels like coming home.
Why Choose Mahogany Manor?
For a trip to New Brunswick, choose Mahogany Manor B&B. It will make your stay as memorable as the destination. Here’s what sets this property apart:
Authentic Victorian Charm: Immerse yourself in the elegance of a bygone era, complemented by modern amenities.
Distinctive Rooms: Each room is thoughtfully designed to offer a unique experience tailored to different tastes.
Exceptional Hospitality: The hosts excel at making your stay special. Their personal touch beats that of larger hotels.
Prime Location: Situated in the heart of Saint John, the manor provides easy access to local attractions and activities.
Peaceful Ambiance: Enjoy the serenity of the property’s gardens and the comfort of its well-appointed rooms.
Plan Your Stay Today
Mahogany Manor Bed and Breakfast guarantees an unforgettable stay. It's perfect for a romantic getaway, a solo retreat, or a family vacation in New Brunswick. Explore the unique rooms, soak in the historic charm, and savor the warm hospitality that sets this property apart.
To learn more or book your stay, visit the www.mmanor.ca website. Let Mahogany Manor be your home away from home as you discover the beauty and charm of New Brunswick.
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