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alexiroflife · 4 months ago

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"trance"

fluff, slight crack, modern!sukuna, whipped & clingy sukuna, itadori family!

ryomen sukuna x reader

Synopsis: sukuna, a man who rarely attempts to keep his thoughts to himself for the sake of others, makes his infatuation with you everyone else's problem when he's high

to sum it up: sukuna's fried, and naturally all he wants is you

WC: 3,258

Warning(s): mentions/use of marijuana, suggestive themes, horny ass sukuna who has no decorum in front of his family

You know Sukuna is no better than any other man who you have caught the attention of in the past. No matter the time of day or the occasion, the salmon-haired man is quick to intrude on your personal space, invading your unsuspecting body with the wander of his large hands over your frame until you find yourself returning to the default state of being at his will.

Sukuna proudly takes ownership of his infatuation with you too. Rather shamelessly, he's got an arm wound over your shoulders and locked around your neck or hands firmly splayed on your waist, bringing yours to his and keeping you there for as long as he deems necessary.

He would never say so out loud, but it is evident by his body language and the way he strays from being more than ten feet away from you that he is attached to you at the hip. Sukuna is an aggressively clingy man, for as long as you belong to him, he is taking advantage of your closeness, of your body, of your time, mind, heart, and soul.

Even so, when Sukuna is in the proper state of mind, he still remains somewhat calm with his actions and how he presses himself to you. He will appear almost angry with affection, but silent save for a few commands to relax your body or to stop stubbornly attempting to push away when you feel crowded, though you never have any luck in that regard anyway. He is more reserved, more contained with his confrontations as though touching you is the easiest, most soothing, and most familiar thing he has ever done. Sukuna has a tendency to skillfully mask his truest emotions with a viel of apathy and air of indifference, despite how his body speaks for the things he fails to verbalize.

And now, of course, while Sukuna is not at all in any realm close to withholding a proper state of mind, or state of sobriety more accurately, his body betrays him tenfold and acts on its own will while his mind is on the backburner, hazily numbing itself with the passionate buzz of the smoke that was dragging from his lips and past his nostrils.

Sukuna often fails to take into account the appropriate time and place to engage in or say certain things, for he feels that if there is something he wants to do or discuss, no company or environment could shift his will to do so. Arrogant with pride, Sukuna operates according to his desires, and all those who know him are quite familiar with his rather inconsiderate antics.

That is why the crimson eyed man is splayed out on his brother's sofa, legs spread dangerously far apart with his arms thrown over the back of the furniture. Blurry lidded eyes stare off in a heavy daze captured solely by you, who are maneuvering about his brother's kitchen alongside Choso, who is helping you locate the baking sheet for the cookies you have been yammering on about baking all day.

You can feel his eyes burning into your skull from a mile away, and you are wildly too accostumed to this routine of his for you to pay the notion any mind. You are far too focused on your own task at hand to meet the fiery, lust consumed gaze that your boyfriend has locked onto you.

His eyes, unfathomably red, trace the outline of your figure slowly as though drinking in the sight of you, savoring it so that he can taste it on his tongue long enough for it to linger until he can get his hands on the true, physical flavor of you.

There's a darkness in the way he checks you out from across the room seated next to Wasuke, who glares angrily ahead of him with a twisted scowl at whatever channel has been randomly flicked to in the stupor of Sukuna's high. It almost feels as though the room is charging with the volcaic tension that Sukuna's body emits from its place in the living room, for his obsession with you manifests into some sort of beast before everyone's eyes when he is under the influence of weed.

And despite being surrounded by family, Sukuna can do nothing but watch you with that hungry glint in those hues of blood red, paying no mind to how easily the room can read him.

Truthfully, Sukuna does not even feel that he should be blamed for the way he is eye fucking you now. You decided upon yourself that it was a good idea to visit the Itadori home with a thick cardigan slipping down the skin of your shoulder to reveal the tank top that hugs your midsection and tits tightly, which you only vurther expose when you decide to strip the outer fabric off with complaints of being warm. Your graceful arms stretch to grab the kitchenware out of Choso's hands to set aside on the counter, your bare neck craning gently with the tilt of your head and a concentrated pinch of your brow as you mix raw ingridients into a bowl with your hands, kneading the thick pasty mixture through your soft fingers. You have to be doing this on purpose, Sukuna decides, for you are far too captivating for him to turn away

Sukuna's lashes flutter with a slow blink and the stroke of his fingers over his mouth and chin. You look practically edible standing there, the overhead light of the kitchen illuminating your frame and epmhasizing your otherwordly, enticing beauty. Of all the many ways he has come to learn he can devour your body, each scenario flitters through his fuzzy brain the longer he stares at you, his pupils expanding with possessive want.

You flicker your eyes upward momentarily when you feel a particular shift in the atmosphere, and when you do, you meet your boyfriend's piercing eyes from afar. Your brows quirk and your lips tug to the side with nervous judgment when you catch that dangerous glimmer that can only mean you will not make it out alive when the two of you end up alone.

With slightly widened eyes, you slowly turn your eyes back to the cookie dough and a curious Choso standing beside you with oil spray for the pan.

"You okay?" the twenty-one year old questions slowly and you shake your head.

"Your uncle looks like he's gonna kill me," you exhale anxiously in response. Choso looks up to find what you are referring to, and his face sours when he catches wind of Sukuna's expression.

"Freak," he mutters under his broth with the clench of his jaw, passing the spray over to you amid his sickened glower.

As if beckoning him subconsciously, the brunette watches in something akin to horror when Sukuna lifts his arms from behind him and pushes himself up gradually to his feet. He appears to move in slow motion, hands tucked into his pockets and eyes still glued permanently to you as he saunters his way into the kitchen with heavy strides.

You keep your gaze down, pretending to be entirely too occupied as the salmon haired man slips into the space directly behind you, the strong scent of weed sinking into his cologne wrapping over you. Sneakily, warm palms snake over your hips. They still there a moment, gripping experimentally before trailing around and over your stomach, opting to cling to you this way as he steps his chest to your back and curves his nose toward you cheek.

He takes in a deep breath, inhaling you graciously as his hands wander over your stomach. You feel the tip of his nose and the whisper of his lips graze your skin as he lenas himself down toward the crook of your jaw and neck. His actions are sluggish, a representation of his current state of mind, and he pulls you into his embrace as though he had been seeking so for years on end.

"Can I help you, Kuna?" you murmur, gripping a ball of dough into your palms and rolling it.

He does not say a word. Only a low grunt escapes his lips and vibrates against you, his eyes falling closed. He seems to crowd into you closer, though you are unsure of how that is possible when he already has you tucked into him so securely.

"Just stand still," his voice rumbles into you, lips pressing to your ear in a soft kiss in between his slow words. "Let me feel on you."

You grunt softly when his lips touch your cheek, veiny hands smoothing over your abdomen in gradual circles, one hand sliding back to sooth down the top of your thigh and back up again. "Sukuna," you hiss as heat pinches your body. "Stop, I'm trying to bake," you lean over to shrug away, but he's following you, chasing your lips to the side and crushing his weight down into you, pecking over your jaw.

"No one told you to stop," he murmurs. "Keep going."

You bite down on your tongue, attempting to hide how flustered you have become by Sukuna's behavior, especially in such an open space. You expect nothing less from him, and neither does his family, but hell, he never knows when to quit and it absolutely kills you.

"Leave her alone," Choso rolls his eyes, shuffling away from Sukuna's bulky figure pushing past him to get to you. "She just said she was doing something."

"Yeah, and get a god damn room!" Grandpa demands bitterling from the couch with the raise of an agitated fist.

"You're scarring your family, Sukuna," you say flatly in between the uproar of hatred toward the salmon haired man, to which he lifts his head from you briefly with a mischievous smirk snaking onto his face.

"They'll live," he grins.

"At this rate, you'll be the very thing to keep that from happening and push me closer to death," Grandpa fumes.

"One could only hope, old man."

"Eat shit."

An amused chuckle rumbles through Sukuna's chest and against your back, practically rattling your ribcage. "Can't you all be nice to each other," you sigh as Sukuna turns his focus back down to you. His arms tighten around you, his caress of your stomach over your tank top ceasing to fasten his arms around your waist and drop his forehead to your shoulder. He sways you slightly back and forth, droopy eyes glazing over at the feel of your plush body against his.

"We can't be nice if we constantly get on each other's nerves, (Y/n)," Choso says tiredly. "Or more specifically, if Sukuna pisses us off."

"But that's damn near every day," you raise your brows with a twitch of an amused smile as you proceed onto rolling the next few balls of cookie dough.

"Exactly."

You shake your head, lifting your arms slightly as Sukuna's burly arms wrap up under yours. "Your family hates you, baby," you comment slyly.

Sukuna clicks his tongue, grumbling as he shifts with you. "I don't give a fuck," he murmurs. "What perfume are you wearing?"

"I'm not wearing any perfurme," you scrunch your brows in confusion at his abrupt shift. "Why?"

"Mm," he hums. "You smell good."

"Okay," you tilt your head away when his lips peck over your neck, his teeth eventually sinking down to nip at you. You flinch. "Get off, weirdo!" a giggle slips into your demand, your face scrunching when a hand comes to cup the side of your face to refrain you from moving away from the invasion of his kisses.

"For fuck's sake," Wasuke hisses under his breath.

"Let's go," Sukuna suddenly mumbles into you.

You turn your head to peek at him over your shoulder quizzically. "What?"

"Let's go, woman," he repeats, speaking directly into your ear. "Want to taste you. Now."

"Woah," your eyes go wide as Sukuna moves to feel you up again, thick fingers brushing the hem of your tanktop and grazing over the sliver of skin beneath. "You can't just say things like that," you scold, eyes darting over the room in panic though your own body is beginning to betray you. "Behave."

"Like hell you actually want me to," you can feel him smirk as the sly words leave his mouth, and you shiver, putting aside the last ball of dough you needed to roll. "Come on, peach," he urges rather gently, tilting his head over your shoulder to find the connection of your gaze with his red eyes. You look back up at him, eyes glassy enough for Sukuna to determine that he is getting to you. "Don't be rude."

"Sukuna, you're distracting me," you groan.

"Relax," he urges, "Enough complaining and relax."

His instructions fall on your ear as though he is attempting to coax you into submission, which he has a keen tendency of doing even when he is fully coherent. "At least have the decency to wait until we go home to act like this."

"I shouldn't have to wait for something I already have."

"Around your family, you should!"

"Quit worrying about them and focus on me."

"You make it impossible not to when you hover me like this."

"Good," he kisses the back of your ear. "Now let's go."

"Later," you smile with the emphasis. "I haven't even washed my hands yet."

Sukuna stretches his arms forward from under you, cupping over your wrists from either side and guiding your hands to the left whre the sink resides as Choso busies himself with tidying up a bit. You watch your boyfriend reach to flip the faucet on, then guide your dough coated hands under the water gingerly.

You inhale sharply, ducking your head to conceal your smile as his thumbs smooth your palms clean with the addition of some soap. You can feel his chest pressing into your shoulderblades and the weighted exhales the spread through his body. His head hovers over your own, eyes turning back to admire you as he mindlessly continues to wash your hands.

"God, is that (Y/n) over there? I hope that idiot isn't clobbering the poor girl," Jin's voice speaks up from behind you all at the front door, which had swung open moments before. You all watch him and Itadori shuffle into the space, the teenager clad in his baseball practice uniform.

"He's washing her hands," Choso deadpans, turning to greet Yuji as he walks into the space. The said boy furrows his brow and looks over at the huddled pair of the two of you.

"Really? Why? That's... oddly nice of him," he tilts his head.

"No the hell it's not," Gramps chimes in from the couch, having tuned into the family conversation with the return of his son and grandson.

Sukuna ignores the comments getting thrown around about him, his mind's only sole focus being you and the way your hands trickle over with water within his own.

"All of you shut up. I'm speeding things up," Sukuna slurs, and all heads turn to him.

"Are you high?" Jin raises an unimpressed brow at his twin.

"Stay out of my business."

The living room and kitchen combined erupt into lively chatter as voices overlap one another and some argument about some sports team ensues after an argument about Sukuna's habits. The cookies long having been tucked into the oven flood the space with an intoxicating scent, and as you move around to make sure the space is tidy when you are done, Sukuna does not let go of you once. He's stuck to you, rolling his hands over your hips and kissing across your shoulder, performing rather uncharacteristically gentle as he handles you as though cherishing you in his senses' heightened yet blurred state.

The red eyed man is especially hot on your tail when you step away to the bathroom. The second you make it into the space to prepare to examine yourself in the mirror, the door is clicking shut behind you and Sukuna is making his way over with a gleam of entranced greed.

You go to press your palm forward to catch his chest before he can completely approach you, but your strength proves inefficient against Sukuna's as he pushes back against your hands, lips curved in a lazy smile.

"You need to calm down," you nod with a nervous smile, squeaking when he flies his hands downward to tightly clasp your waist and pull you into him swiftly. "Seriously! Stop looking at me like that. You're gonna get us in more trouble."

"Be quiet, gorgeous," he purrs when your body collides to his with a thud. He hums, sliding his fingers past your hair to settle on the back of your neck, his thumb clasping over the front in a soft squeezing motion. Your smile dwindles slightly as he drags your head forward, his lips parted with a toothy, satisfied beam as you melt down before him. "Give me a kiss."

"No," you breathe out as though you had been holding in air.

"Why? What's the matter with you, girl?" his sultry voice questions rather teasingly.

"It's never just a kiss with you," you whimper. "And I'm not doing anything at your family's house with all of them standing twenty feet away."

"Didn't I tell you to stop talking about them? Hm?"

You chew down on the inside of your lip, eyes flickering to Sukuna's lips. "You never listen."

"I'm listening," he murmurs, brushing his mouth against yours. "To that little heartbeat of yours racing whenever I touch you."

"Kuna," you whisper, his hand giving your neck another soft squeeze. His heavy stare envelopes you in its fuzziness, his surroundings an air of buzzing nonsense yet you are the clearest thing that appears before him, your scent, your body, your face.

"Kiss me, peach," he orders lowly again and you shiver.

"Just one kiss-"

"Mhm."

Sukuna captures your lips in his before you can even finish your sentence, his aroma wafting into you so intoxicatingly that you believe that you yourself could get high off of your boyfriend's presence.

He melts into you, smoothing his mouth over yours passionately, firmly, softly. You cling to his back, leaning backward as Sukuna pushes further into you, his hand catching the back of your head so you don't lose balance with his weight. He's lethargic and heavy, slow with the prying of your lips apart and the slip of his tongue against yours, with the tilt of your head and the generous exploration of his hands over your frame. You almost do not think he can breathe, that he is fighting off air to keep his lips connected with yours.

You release a soft moan when his sharp teeth sink into your bottom lip to drag it out, eyes peeled open slightly to watch the blissful expression of your face.

"Sukuna," you mutter his name once more, only this time, you are unsure if it is a plea or another warning.

The salmon haired man bends down to tuck an arm under your butt, wandering you over to the bathroom counter and seating you atop the granite.

He cages you beneath him with his hands planted on other side of you. "That's right," he smirks. "Keep saying my name like that"

He presses back into you, and you wonder to yourself as you succomb to his will why anyone in this house allows Sukuna to smoke around you, knowing the recurrent outcome.

#jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk fandom #jjk fanfic #anime #jjk #jjk season 2 #jjk x you #sukuna ryomen #sukuna ryomen x reader #jujutsu kaisen sukuna #sukuna x reader #sukuna smut #sukuna fluff

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reyalvr · 6 months ago

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RUMORS!

I KNOW YOU HEARD THE RUMORS, YOU MUST GET OVER TO IT RIGHT AWAY!

synopsis ┊ ken sato- a remarkable name in the world of modern baseball- has graced japan with not only his presence, but also his skills as a key player for the yomiuri giants. from press conferences to media endorsements, it’s clear that his stardom has only intensified from his recent move. but what happens when you, his personal assistant, are left to deal with some more… serious rumors?

genre ┊ chaotic fluff, oneshot

pairing ┊ ken sato x gn-PA!reader

warnings ┊ mild cursing, ami is not the reporter depicted!

word count ┊ 2.2k

author’s note ┊ hiya! i recently found time to watch ultraman: rising and this fic was just writing itself in my head hehe… happy reading! (p.s. yes… the title was inspired from the new minions song)

THREE MONTHS. That was how long you had known baseball’s darling, Ken Sato. And in those three months, you had undergone every single PR nightmare you had ever conjured up in your mind prior to pursuing your career. You had worked with celebrities before- doing God knows what ‘til the waking hour on their every beck and call. But Ken, despite presenting himself as a laid back man, was an entirely new… experience.

From the Kaiju attack at his first game under the Giants, to the continuous streak of losses throughout the first half of the season, it seemed like the Gods were against you as you did your damndest to handle the damage control on his reputation. His ego didn’t aid you either- having to spin and twist multiple incidents to get reporters and media outlets off his back. You weren’t exactly sure what it was that kept you from quitting all in all, but the longer you worked under him, the thinner your thread seemed to snap.

You huffed an annoyed sigh into the cold air, picking up the pace as you jogged along the designated path by the bay. Your days off were scarce- not because of Ken’s schedule, but because of your own decision to be up to date with his spontaneous actions. Despite the rarity of solitude, you always managed to savor your time off. The music played at a mellow volume in your ears, the morning sun starting to warm your surroundings as you watched its rays splash hues of orange across the sky.

Your felt your watch beep against your skin, signaling the end of your morning run. Pausing by the railing, you leaned against the old metal bars as you checked your stats. You swiped absent-mindedly on the screen of your smartwatch, scrolling once you were sure that everything was in order. There was one thing that caught your eye, though, as you noticed the red notification bubbles on your message app were continuously going up. It was odd, yes, but not odd enough to be out of the ordinary- at least in your line of work.

Deciding not to bombard yourself this early in the morning, you opted to give everything a once-over once you made it back to your apartment. Whatever it was could wait- you were on your time and your pace. Besides, it couldn’t be that bad. Could it now?

IT DEFINITELY COULD, AND IT DEFINITELY WAS. You pushed on the gas as hard as you could, your tongue poking into your cheek as you continued to drive to Ken’s house. Of all the days that he decided to make perhaps the stupidest decision in his career, he chose today. Doing your best not to see red, you dialed his phone once more. The ringing played throughout your car as you maneuvered through the roads, and you swore for what felt like the umpteenth time that morning when you heard the tone of his voice message.

Hey, it’s Ken. Leave a message after the beep, and I’ll be more than happy to ignore it! Said his usual arrogant tone playing before the generic beep. You gripped the steering wheel harder, huffing angrily as you sharply turned a corner.

“Kenji Sato answer your goddamn phone right now! I’m ten minutes away from your house and when I get there, I better not be greeted with your supposed secret love child!” You yelled, pushing the red button once you finished your message.

Ah yes. The centerpoint of your current rage: Ken’s “leaked” one-on-one with a reporter about juggling baseball and his homelife. Someone on Ken’s staff had sent the article in your shared work group chat, and nearly all of his personnel had directly messaged you about the issue. It was inevitable for celebrities to get into a scandal once or twice, but one on this level would not be an easy fit to overcome.

You don’t exactly remember what you were doing prior to receiving the messages- all you knew was that you needed to get to Ken as soon as possible. Of course it just be a misunderstanding, hell it could even be a hoax! But knowing Kenji, anything could be possible. You neared the hill of his private property, driving past the gates as the security recognized your car.

You parked haphazardly at the front of his house, your feet stomping into the gravel as you made your way to his front door. His estate had numerous smart tech installed throughout his home, so you knew that each and every one of your moves were either being recorded or observed. You crouched slightly to be in frame with the doorbell’s camera, your anger slightly toned down.

“Ken.” You paused to narrow your eyes. “Open the door.”

For the next minute and a half you swore you could hear some sort of clash and bang from inside the house. You kept your arms crossed, raising your eyebrow from time to time when the clashing seemed to grow louder. After what felt like an eternity, the front door opened slightly. Not all the way, but just enough for Ken to peek out and smile at you- albeit nervously cocky.

The nerve.

“Hey, [Y/N]! What uh- what are you doing here?” He manages to cough out, roughly combing a hand through his hair. “I thought it was your day o-”

“Save it.” You reply, your gaze sharp enough to slice through whatever excuse he had at the ready. You held up your phone then, the article’s headline prominently bolded:

OUT OF LEFT FIELD: Ken Sato Strikeout? Nope! Love Child Home Run!

Ken’s head bent down to get a good look at what you were showing him, and you watched carefully as his eyes scanned over the article not once, but thrice. You let out an impatient hum, your mouth forming into a slight scowl as the both of you stood in silence. With your head tilted to the side, you dropped your hand back down and crossed your arms.

“Are you just gonna stand there or are you going to start explaining to me what the hell you’ve been up to these past twenty-four hours?” You question, moving past him as you enter the house.

Usually you would wait for Ken to let you in, but stalling would only hinder you from coming up with what to do next. The article had already been up for two hours, and you halted any statements from being made before you could get an explanation from Ken himself. He quickly tailed after you, nearly stumbling over himself as you stopped at his kitchen. You gripped the marble countertop, closing your eyes momentarily before you turned to face him once more.

“[Y/N] I swear, it’s not as bad as you think it is,” Ken says as he tries to add reassurance to his tone, but it doesn't mask the lingering tinge of falsehood.

“Oh, really?” You say, your eyebrows raised in disbelief. “Because in the span of two hours I have had thirty news outlets blowing up my- your management team for a response!”

He opens his mouth to speak, but stops again midway when you continue. “The headline I showed you was local. I want you to tell me exactly how and why you were on the phone with a reporter talking about your private life at God knows what hour. Now.”

You can see him swallow, licking his lips after as he tries to form the right words. He blinks a bit before pinching the bridge of his nose, tilting his head up as he lets out a deep sigh. When he opens his eyes he’s still greeted with your restive stance. Still he remains slightly hesitant, but he does end up recalling the remnants of his conversation with a reporter he had met at one of the parties he attended. Ken goes on to explain that he had only seeked out advice. His schedule, his personal life- he needed an outlet. You can feel yourself slowly untense, though you continued to listen to make sure all your facts were straight.

When he finishes his retelling, he puts his hands up slightly- as if he were trying to put you at ease. “I swear, that’s all I said. I thought,” He pauses, his brows furrowing in a way that made you slightly mad at yourself from blowing up at him. “I just thought I could have a normal conversation for once. ‘Guess I was wrong.”

The warm lights cast a sombre shadow on his features, and from this angle you notice the worn out expression painted on his face. The bags under his eyes are darker than usual, not to mention the fading bruises from his latest altercation with one of players from his opposing team. In front of you was not Ken Sato, this was Kenji; Simply a man who was thrust into a new life without the needed support.

“Well, no shit.” You say, finally breaking the silence, you fix your posture against the counter as you tone down the anger in your voice. “Jesus Ken, sometimes I wonder how you were able to maintain your career before me.”

At that he lets out a soft laugh, his dull expression slowly fading. “Yeah, I do too.”

You give him a puzzled look before you reply. “Are you mocking me?”

“No! No, I was being serious.” He says, his smile dropping slightly. “I know I haven’t been an easy task, hell you’re here on your day off for Christ’s sake.”

You hum at his words, narrowing your eyes slightly as you push yourself off the counter with another awkward cough. In all ninety days of working under Ken Sato, never has the man gotten this sentimental with you. You decide not to linger on his words, your attention going back to the problem at hand.

“Right, well,” You sigh, whipping your phone out in the process. “I need you to give me the name of that reporter. I’ll get the legal team to draft an NDA breach.”

He furrowed his eyebrows then, looking at you as if you’d said something odd. “I didn’t make him sign an NDA though?”

You only give him a smile, a hint of confidence plastered on your lips. “I know. I have my ways, Sato.”

“You’re a pretty good assistant, then.” He replies, the corners of his lips going up slightly as he keeps his arms crossed.

“I’m an excellent assistant.” You correct without looking at him, your fingers tapping away at your phone as you prepare the next steps of your plan.

Ken can only chuckle in agreement, tapping his fingers on his forearm as he awaits your next set of instructions. Within the next twenty minutes you’ve sent out the necessary details to your team, your legs kicking as you sit on one of his bar stools. He’s stood across from you, leaning on the countertop looking at you intently as you explain the response plan.

“And lastly,” You say, sliding out your hand. “Give me your phone.”

His head tilts, the same confused expression on his face. “Why?”

“Just do it,” Your hand curls, motioning for him to hand his phone over. “No, I am not installing a monitor.” You add when you see his mouth open to interrogate you.

He slides his phone over with a defeated huff, and you open a new contact page on his contacts. “If you need to talk, do it with someone who won’t leak your shit.” You say, sliding back his phone when all your details are settled.

“I have your number though, don’t I?” Ken questions, looking over at the number you inputted.

“You had my work number. Now you have my personal phone.” You point your finger at him before continuing. “Don’t abuse it. I’m still your assistant.” “Wasn’t gonna, sweetheart.” He says, an amused smirk mixing in with his addled look.

You quirk your eyebrow at the nickname. You shake your head, hopping off the stool as you make your way back to the front door. Ken follows behind you, hands in his pockets as he watches you leave. Before you can open the door though, you look back at him one last time.

“I mean it, Ken.” You say, making sure it gets through his head. “You have a problem, tell me. You need a solution, you tell me.”

“I know, I know.” He gives you a tight-lipped smile, nodding towards the door. “Go enjoy the rest of your day off before I start thinking you care about me.”

“I do. It’s my job to care about you, Ken.” You reply, giving him a look before you open the door. “Whether you like it or not, I’m your lifeline. At least until you get rid of me, which won’t be happening for a good while.”

“Oh yeah?” He jests, his cocky demeanor slowly coming back. “‘You so sure about that?”

“Extremely sure.” You’re standing outside now, slowly walking backwards. “Twenty minutes ago people thought you had a secret love child and that you were a terrible father. Now you’re back on the face of KFC as baseball’s darling.”

He’s taken aback. Was he actually booted off of his collaborations? He hastily checked his phone, scrolling through all his platforms. To his surprise, he was greeted with… his usual feeds. No sight of the article, no lingering gossip. His ads had doubled, his partnerships boosted on the products he had endorsed. He looked back up to say something, but you had already started your car. You backed out his estate, giving him a smile through the tinted glass of your windshield.

He let out a soft laugh, shaking his head. You were right. But who was he kidding?

You always were.

#✎ maxi’s works #ultraman: rising #ultraman #ken sato #kenji sato #ken sato x reader #kenji sato x reader #kenji sato x you #kenji sato fic #ken sato x you #fluff #ultraman: rising 2024

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magalhaessims · 11 months ago

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THIRSTY CACTUS DINER - MAXIS-MATCH CC BUILD

Fresh and renewed! One of my very first builds, now with a modern twist! The Thirsty Cactus Diner is the ideal destination for those seeking a brief escape, where you can unwind and savor the perfection of a robust cup of black coffee. Also, I've just created my very first Speed Build Video on YouTube! If you appreciate this type of content, be sure to check it out. I hope you enjoy the video!

NOT CC FREE

Lot Type: Cafe | Bar | Restaurant

Size: 30x20

World: Oasis Springs

Enable bb.moveobjects before placing in your game!

WATCH THE SPEED BUILD HERE

Origin ID: MagalhaesSims (remember to enable custom content on!) DOWNLOAD

CC USED IN THIS BUILD:

NOTE: For convenience, some of the CC is included in the Download Folder. Please put it in your Mods Folder along with the CC linked below.

Amoebae: GF Horizontal Slats & Vertical Beans | Vintage Dining Set | Plastered Style || AroundTheSims4: Diner | Paris (Bench) | Restaurant || AwingedLlhama: Nostalgia Living (Blinds) || Charly Pancakes: Chalk (Kitchen Clutter) || TheClutterCat: BubbleGum | Dandy Diary (Glasses) || Felixandre: Colonial | Paris | Soho || Harrie: Halcyon Kitchen | Klean | Spoons || HouseOfHarlix: Baysic Bathroom | Baysic || LittleDica: Delicious Kitchen | Greasy Goods | Rise&Grind | Summer Party || Max20: Cozy Bathroom | Dining Room Kit | Kitchen Appliances | Poolside Lounge (Plants) || Peacemaker-ic: Creta Kitchen (Mini Frigde) || Pierisim: Coldbrew | David Apartment | Domaine Du Clos | Pantry || RVSN: ShopChef Consumables || Simkoos: Clutter Dump || SixamCC: Private Schools (Fire Alarm) || SurelySims: Kitchen Of Tomorrow | Office Space || Syboulette: Crossfit Reborn (Wall Digital Clock) || Taurus Design: Lilith Chillin’ Areas: Coffee Corner || Zx-Ta: Painting | Retro Diner

The CC Sets above are the main ones I used to decorate this specific building and you can find all the links to the creators’ sites on my Resource Page. However, if you can’t find something specific, you can send me a WCIF and I’ll try to help you find it!

HOW TO MAKE IT FUNCTIONAL:

If you want a more immersive experience with this lot, I highly suggest downloading LittleMsSam’s Auto Employees Mod. With this mod, NPCs will automatically work at the lot, once you place the correct object for them to appear.

Make sure to read all the information available on the mods pages in order to make it work properly in your game!

My content will always be free and right away available to everyone, but if you want to, you can show your support through my Ko-Fi Page. Your donation will always be much appreciated!

Thank you for reblogging: @maxismatchccworld @mmoutfitters @mmfinds @s4realtor @coffee-houses-finds and everyone else for helping me boost this post!

#the sims 4 #ts4 maxis match #ts4 build #ts4 cc build #ts4 speed build #ts4 oasis springs #magalhaessims save file #build #download

1K notes · View notes

vilsoo · 3 months ago

Text

𝑫𝑰𝑵𝑬 𝑶𝑵 𝒀𝑶𝑼𝑹 𝑯𝑬𝑨𝑹𝑻 ⌇ NANAMI KENTO

nanami kento x fem!reader || WC: 5,660

𖤐 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. the owner of a five-star restaurant in kyoto seems to have his eyes on you as his regular, hiding his dark jealousy of your boyfriend. but there are many different ways to consume you as his and feast on his love for you forever…

𖤐 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒. cannibalism, chef/restaurant owner nanami, poisoning, murder, infidelity/cheating, slight dubcon, eventual smut, kitchen sex, unprotected sex, jealousy, dark obsession, slight stalking, gore, mutilation.

𝑯𝑶𝑹𝑹𝑶𝑹𝑳𝑨𝑵𝑫/𝑲𝑰𝑵𝑲𝑻𝑶𝑩𝑬𝑹 𝑴𝑨𝑺𝑻𝑬𝑹𝑳𝑰𝑺𝑻

[RIDE ANNOUNCER] As you are getting seated, be mindful that this 4D simulation ride contains flashing scenes, special effects, and jarring motions. Please remember to stay seated and keep all arms and legs inside when the vehicle is in motion. Keep your 4D glasses on for a better experience. Any kind of photography is not allowed during the ride. And absolutely no eating, smoking, or drinking while riding. Thanks for your attention and cooperation. We hope you enjoy.

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

“If you were on the menu, I’d eat you instead.”

The night your boyfriend uttered these words to you was the night the restaurant’s owner, Nanami Kento, lost his mind. Forcing himself to shrug a cold shoulder as condemning emotions threatened to boil inside him, he tried his best to stay composed. Was it a joke? An attempt at flirting? Regardless, such forbidden jealousy was enough to plague his mind like a vice that it made him clench his jaw.

Ever since you stepped foot into Nanami’s restaurant and became his regular, something brewed inside of him when he first saw you. A gorgeous woman with great taste in food; also elegant in style from the way you dolled yourself up for your dates every Friday night here. It’s as if the image of you was permanently cemented to his eyelids whenever he shuts his eyes. Nothing but a small secret crush, until, this fondness he has for you gradually developed into this forbidden, dangerous, dark, and twisted obsession.

Behind his charming and professional demeanor as the owner of a famous five-star restaurant in Kyoto, he was driven by the thought of consuming you.

Literally consuming you.

Something was wrong with him and he knew it. He knew how deeply unsettling and disturbing these kind of intrusive thoughts were. But god, if he were to indulge himself in his sexual appetite and have just one taste, just one taste of you— a piece of you, rather— no euphoric moment in the world would ever live up to what he’s been dreaming of.

Savoring you as his.

Nestled in a charming alleyway near the historic Gion district, Nanami’s rich and elegant restaurant was busy every weekend. It was hard to book reservations, but because you and your boyfriend were regulars, you get seated in less than 10 minutes. The diverse menu consists of a unique fusion of Japanese and Dutch cuisines, like sushi bitterballen, ramen stroopwafels, udon friknadel, and many other signature foods. For years, his fine-dining restaurant has had a great reputation. It was also recognized with numerous awards like Michelin stars and accolades from prestigious food critics. Designed as a sleek, modern high-rise restaurant with panoramic city views, plush velvet seating, and contemporary decor, the service still remains exemplary.

Nanami comes every Friday noon to observe his employees and maintain the restaurant, which is coincidentally the only time you come with your boyfriend. Of course, he takes good care of his chefs and the satisfaction of his guests, all while sneaking glances at you through the windows of the kitchen and watching you. Enjoying the food and laughing at whatever rubbish your boyfriend says to you, he keeps his professional facade while trying to hold every fiber of his being to not brutally murder him.

Sometimes Nanami would try to catch your attention with small talk whenever you stopped by the restrooms. Always complimenting your outfits and looks, asking how you think of the food, and just checking in on you overall. And you must admit; Mr. Nanami Kento is indeed a fine man. There was something about his luxurious aura and his warm presence that was so charming to you. He even dresses so impeccably; a tailored suit of deep midnight blue, complemented by an off white dress-shirt and his silk tie. It’s as if this man has the power to captivate anyone he speaks to. And even you felt a strange admiration for him the more you spoke with him…

It wasn’t until months later, the more you frequently visited the restaurant, the more you wanted to see Nanami. You’d often catch him sneaking glances at you, walking past your table just to banter with you in front of your boyfriend, and even serving your food on the house as a surprise. But you knew deep down, or maybe just presumed, that you were Nanami’s eye candy for those Friday evenings. And you couldn’t help but bask in the hint of attention he gives you— it’s even gotten to the point where you’d go to the restroom more often just to “bump into him.”

“Hey. Always happy to see you here again,” he greeted, standing by the corner as you got out from the hall to the restrooms. “You doing alright, miss Y/N?”

You beamed at the handsome man. “I’m doing good, Mr. Nanami. It’s also nice to see you, too.”

The hallway radiated a soft, gentle light from the chandelier sconces, creating this intimate atmosphere in this elegant restaurant. You can feel the way Nanami’s eyes shamelessly lingered on you, trailing from your sweet lips and down to the way your maxi dress hugged your skin. You were so goddamn beautiful; it was a shame that the only thing stopping him from pressing you against that black and gold marble wall and aggressively kissing you was your pathetic boyfriend.

“You know… as much as we love having you here on Fridays, I have something to offer you— if you don’t mind,” the man reckoned, immediately intriguing you.

“Oh? What is it?”

“This is the first and probably the last time I will ever do this, but if you want to learn our recipes at home, I can offer private cooking lessons. Not only does it save time and money coming all the way here every week, but you also have the luxury of making these recipes at your very own home anytime you want.”

“Private cooking lessons?” you ponder, looking around to see if anybody nearby was listening to such an exclusive offer, especially your boyfriend who was still waiting for you at the table.

All Nanami did was smile at your hint of interest. You couldn’t help but find odd comfort and reassurance in his warm smile, the way his offer was an expression of gratitude and genuine kindness just by your support. “Yes, ma’am. My method of teaching is preferably one-on-one, just like how I trained all my chefs here one-on-one. So it’d be best if you came alone, as long as your boyfriend is fine with it.”

“He doesn’t have to know,” you muttered, gazing at Nanami with the right kind of heat in your eyes. And suddenly, an uncontrollable eruption of erratic desire detonates within in his body.

Just by your unmatched beauty alone, and sensing that the intimate, ardent feelings you both had for each other was mutual, he’ll finally have a taste of you that he’s been so desperately ravaging for. You alone have beguiled him wholeheartedly as his object of obsession. He couldn’t believe how he maintained this insanity brewing inside of him as he stands before you.

Nanami slipped a card out from his breast pocket and handed it over, giving the address of his loft and his personal phone number. “Whenever you have time, you can always call for that private session. My address is also on here.”

Forbidden lust pools in your eyes from such an intense, unspoken yearning for each other. When your fingers graze with his as you reach out for the card, a shiver courses down your spine. Nanami can feel the infatuation spread in his limbs from the sensation of your fingertips, so soft and gentle, a tantalizing caress that sent his body ablaze. The way your skin and flesh felt from just a light graze was enough to make him drool.

“Thank you. I’ll see you soon, Mr. Nanami.”

You knew deep down how fucked up this all was. Tangled in these intense emotions of guilt, shame, and regret of what’s bound to happen during these private “cooking lessons.” But you try your best to convince yourself that this was exactly what you wanted; taking thrill in decepting your boyfriend behind his back, emerging into this temporary escape from your emotional constraints. You may have loved your boyfriend, but this tantalizing effect that Mr. Nanami has on you was something you were begging to explore more in depth…

When the next week rolls in and you give the feeble excuse to your boyfriend of having to work late at night, you arrived at Nanami’s loft. The modern exterior had a nice blend of Japanese architecture and modern elegance, with the wide windows capturing the skyline of Kyoto. Once you stepped inside, you felt like entering the building complex of a very rich and powerful CEO. Though Mr. Nanami may have radiated this kind of energy as a rich and elegant restaurant owner, he wasn’t too formal with the interior of his home. He had nice contemporary furniture with plush cushions and lovely decorations. The color palette features accents of natural tones like deep browns, beiges, greens, and grays.

As you ambled into the kitchen, you see his high-end quality appliances like a sleek induction cooktop, a built-in wall oven, and a discreetly hidden steel refrigerator and dishwasher. His quartz countertop already had the ingredients nicely organized, designed for cooking, casual dining, and maybe for something else... The lighting from the pendants hanging over the island was just as soft and intimate as his restaurant.

You watch as Nanami pours Château Mercian into a glass. “For you,” he offers. “Let me know if you need anything else before we begin.”

“I’m fine for now,” you feigned a smile as you took a sip, the rich flavors enveloping your senses and easing your anxiety. That feeling of guilt still lingered in your gut, and you were desperate to take your mind off the thought of ruining your relationship like this…

“Tonight, I’ll be showing you how to make the sushi bitterballen. I know that’s one of your favorites,” he murmurs fondly, the husk in his voice so bone-chilling and titillating to you. “Are you ready to begin?”

The warm, rich, and sultry tone of his voice reverberated in the back of your head, like dipping into radiant velvet and cream. Your body felt like it was caving in on you, striking erratically and so suddenly you weren’t in control of holding your own guard. The way he kept inching closer to you had your chest thundering, the forbidden lust and desire for him scorching your veins like wildfire.

Nanami offered an extra apron to you and started demonstrating on how to mix the cool sushi rice with chopped fish, cucumber, avocado, nori, soy sauce, rice vinegar, and sesame oil all well combined. Then with the mixture, you took small amounts to form them into balls to dredge them in flour, beaten eggs, and panko breadcrumbs. Preparing the food and cooking alongside with him has definitely eased your mind as you were heavily focused, but the more he kept invading your personal space, the more he kept touching you and even helping you from behind, you knew you couldn’t contain yourself. And Nanami couldn’t either; no matter how calm and nonchalant he tried to stay.

The way his hand overlapped yours as you were cooking and his darkened gaze tells you that there are parts of you that were unfamiliar to him. Parts of you that he would like to acquaint.

Explore.

Ravage.

Devour.

Eat.

There was nothing more tortuous than being plagued with guilt and desire tonight. You were both lost and saturated with vivid insights, raging with such fiery passion. Oh, how you wanted him to fuck you on this countertop. But God, how Nanami was depraved to explore you from skin to bone. Allowing him to inch closer, feeling his breath tickle the hairs in the back of your neck. He dared not to touch you— he fucking dared. But the moment your hand couldn’t help but caress his face, inhaling your scent, stealing the air he surrenders to— his stab of burning hunger for you cannot be tamed anymore.

“God… you’re so beautiful,” he whispers. “Tell me you want this. Tell me right now, or I will stop.”

“I’ve always… wanted you, Nanami. I want you more than ever right now.”

And just from hearing those words alone, there was no spiraling lust and sexual appetite in the world more uncontrollable and possessed than Nanami's.

Now his hands are finally on you, sliding down to your waist, taking in your body he’s been dreaming of touching, dreaming of tenderizing, that it made him violent. Your ravishing beauty intoxicated his blood stream like a madman. He even tasted his own blood at one point just by the thought of you. Both of you were facing two very different tormenting battles; you had your instincts shouting at you to just say no, to just go home… But your body kept faltering.

You knew everything about this was wrong. You knew the consequences would leave you more miserable if things were to escalate more. But everything about Mr. Nanami was so… irresistible. Everything that was ever wrong about this has never, never felt this good to you.

But for Nanami, who was blinded by the horribly sweet feeling of violence and the rapacious urge to fuck you like a cheating little whore in his kitchen, couldn’t contain himself any longer that he presses his lips onto yours. Your bodies melt together like caramel, pleasure rushing and swilling. Such forbidden lust for each other was boundless; you were enthralled, exhilarated, and liberated all at once. As you feel his hand slither down your stomach and into your pants, a flashing image of your loving boyfriend came across your mind.

“Wait, wait— stop,” you stammered, having to shove him off of you. “I— I’m sorry. I’m not thinking clearly right now…”

Nanami panted heavily, furrowing his eyebrows from having to control his delirium. “Hey, hey. If you want, we can take this slow. I didn’t mean to get very aggressive—“

“No, no. It’s just— I don’t know if I should be doing this,” you drawled, wallowing in the guilt overtaking you it almost made you feel sick. “This isn’t right. Gojo is still waiting for me at home, I really should just be thanking you for the—“

“Y/N, hey. You’ll be fine,” he asserted as he cupped your face, having to press your waist against the counter like you were trapped. “Forget about him just for tonight. Pursuing a man like that is no use for a beautiful girl like you. You deserve to be cherished. Loved. Adored. Taken care of. And I can give all that to you in ways he can’t…”

Your chest felt warm under his and your lips were barely touching the corner of his mouth. Your inhibition had already faltered the moment you easily cave into his touch, kissing you softly just for reassurance. A slow, soft, and delicate kiss until a gradual intensity of control rushed through, infected with such fervor that you desperately cling your arms around his neck and pull him closer to deepen the kiss.

Nanami’s sly hands tug on the seam of your top, and you lift your arms up for him to slip it off and toss it on the floor. Then you proceed to undo the buttons of his dress shirt, continuing to be raptured by his kisses and writhing in the sensation of his hands all over your bare skin. It wasn’t until he gets on his knees and parts your thighs slightly open, his head meeting at the level of your navel to pull your pants off, planting kisses on your stomach and all the way down to your panties.

“Get on the counter and keep your fucking legs open,” he commanded. “I’ve been wanting to do this to you the moment I saw you…”

Hesitating just the slightest, you still hoist yourself up, feeling the cool surface fusing onto your skin. When you lay on your back, you meet Nanami’s heated gaze right between your legs, sliding your panties aside and kissing your clit. His face is now buried into your pussy, plunging and flicking his tongue while licking up your arousal, humming in amusement while doing so. All of your senses surge with such nourishment that you throw your head back and grind to the pace of his insatiable tongue.

Never has your boyfriend ate you out like this, compared to Nanami who was feasting on your cunt that you’re holding onto the hair from his scalp for your dear life. The taste is sweet but the high is oppressive, and the desire in his ribs after finally discovering how you tasted made him unhinged. As if his eroticism speaks millions of sensual nightmares, he couldn’t wait to experience the depths of your beautiful anatomy, your rufescent flesh, your liver, your heart, all those precious guts and organs that makes of you… finally becoming one with him.

You couldn’t stop squirming, hips almost stuttering like a riptide when your orgasm was about to wash over you. “Fuck, Nanami! Please, slow down— I can’t take it!”

“Why? You’re gonna come already, I can feel it,” he coaxed, thrusting his fingers faster and harder as he sucks on your clit. “Let it out all over my face, beautiful. You deserve it.”

Your legs were locked on his shoulders and your back was arched in ecstacy as you can feel an earth-shattering orgasm rippling right through you. And at this point, Nanami was as vicious as an animal than a man, driven by the primal need of ravaging into you with his hard cock. As your juices coats all over his mouth and chin, your mind falls into a haze. Seeing your soul ascend from your body for a few moments, laying right on his counter with your cunt flexing over nothing, he took the opportunity to undo his belt and free his cock, rubbing it against you.

“You did so good for me, coming all over my face like that,” he praises into your ear. Just by his words and his breathless voice was enough to make your body crave for more of him. This is, after all, exactly what you came all the way here for; fulfilling that desire you have and indulging in something so filthy behind your boyfriend’s back.

If you only knew what Nanami’s plan was for you.

The anticipation and quenching desire worsened the throbbing ache in your cunt. Sure, he made a mess of you already, but he couldn’t wait to do it again, over and over, not until he’s finished with you. Once you nodded at him, Nanami pulled you to the edge of the counter by your legs, forcing them to stay open as he slides inside you. Your breath starts to eratically hitch from the sensation of getting stretched out from his size. Penetrating into you as if you were made for his cock to fuck. Made for his sexual appetite and greedy, disturbing desires. Made for your flesh to become one with his…

Your arms cling around his neck as he fucked into you, and you were both in complete wanton. Skin, flesh, and blood— Nanami took in everything that makes of you in cold calculation. Such filthy, cloying sounds you made as you threw your head back, eyes fluttering shut as you were trapped in a bliss. His lips brushed against your open neck, panting heavily and his animalistic groans filling your ears as your sweet scent invades him tremendously. But fuck, he couldn’t resist biting onto your neck as he thrusted harder, right by your carotid artery…

“There you go, cockslut. Taking my cock like the good girl you are.”

“You’re so beautiful. Fuck, your cunt feels so good tightening around me.”

“Soon you’ll be all mines once I’m done with you.”

… All mines?

His words flew past your head when you lay down on the counter and Nanami throws your legs over your shoulders, fucking you so viciously that he kept stroking your g-spot. You were lost in a fog of lust, stuck in this grip of desire, and at this point you could feel your orgasm blossoming. Your senses blurred. Your defenses shattered. Shameless, loud moans soaked into the air and reverberated through the walls; you wouldn’t be surprised if his neighbors heard.

Nanami’s eyes were dark with rapturous desire, surrendering to his unquenched, carnal hunger for you. He could create some of the finest Japanese-Dutch cuisines across the country, but you were just so perfect as his masterpiece. As if you were a muse for him as a professional chef, he knew that you were going to be the most perfect dish that no one will ever get to taste. Your delicate sweetness dripping like nectar from your pussy, the savory, meaty flavor of your beloved flesh, everything that makes of your body and soul once devoured by him were the finest ingredients he ever needed.

He needs to consume.

He needs to tear you apart with his teeth.

He wants your blood dripping all over his chin.

He needs to eat you.

Alive.

Just when both of your orgasms washed over you so suddenly, Nanami’s teeth sank so deep into your cartoid artery. At first, your brain couldn’t register it. How you screamed so loud, so raw, that it nearly tore Nanami’s eardrum. This tremendous, torturous pain stemming from your neck was enough to have the memories of your boyfriend flashing through your mind, tears starting to well in your eyes. But with his mouth buried into your neck and forcefully pinning your arms down from squirming away, you struggled to fight every rough, jagged bite penetrating your skin. Nanami was enthralled in his long-awaited bloodgasm, coming so deep in your pussy while tasting your blood gushing all over the counter.

You tried to fight back by shoving him away with your legs, but the more his teeth sank deeper, your strength started to stagger. He was brutal. Feral. Vicious. Wild. Untamed. Starving. You tried to scream, beg for him to stop, but you choked on your own blood. You started to fall paralyzed, delicate tears trickling down your face just by looking one last time into Nanami’s darkened gaze, the dangerous flaunt in his eyes like you were nothing but a piece of meat for him to knash on. You no longer knew this primal man, seeing your own blood dripping down his chin. The despair and betrayal spreads through your limbs, knowing that you can’t fight your way out of this in your helpless state.

The pulse in your neck gradually slowed, a sign that your life was beginning to fade. All Nanami felt was sex and ecstasy as he was about to become one with you like forming a scabrous bond. He is the type of man who can never feel close enough to someone. A mere embrace, not even rough sex could ever fulfill him other than your sweet flesh and veins and blood intertwining. You were like the tenderest morsel, the sweetest delicacy he has ever savored in his years. Yearning for the taste of you in every way has never been this intoxicating, as you are now his most cherished dish, devouring you with the deepest adoration.

It would take an entire army of men to pull Nanami away from this maddening hunger for you that he would rather suffocate within your flesh. But he couldn’t ruin you much further. Not yet. Just as you slowly died on his countertop, he gave one look at you one last time, analyzing every inch and every crevice of your body like you truly were his masterpiece of fine dining. A beautiful meal he could make out of you right now, the thought of cooking and tenderizing your organs and eating you like some writhing sea-shape into his gaping maw overbeared his senses just by how delicious you tasted for him.

It was time.

It was finally time.

He cleared his counter and cleaned everything else in his kitchen, leaving your dead, gorgeous body laying there displayed for him like a buffet. A brand new knife he unsheathed from his drawer, sharpened very precisely for cutting into your skin and mutilating your limbs with no imperfections. He proceeded to slice thoroughly, just like every animal meat he’s ever touched, wanting to save you and marinate most parts of you for future meals. He started with your arms, saving the tough meat from your forearms for soups and the upper arm to slow cook like lamb shanks. Then your ribs, which is his favorite meal that he couldn’t wait to grill for barbecue some day. And then to your neck, which was perfect for hungarian goulash.

There were so many parts of you that he managed to chop up and save for BBQ steak, scotch filet, slow roasts, and soups for future recipes. And then there was the rest of you that he couldn’t wait to eat raw, like your heart. Your lungs. Your spleen. Your thighs. Your eyeballs.

But of course, there were parts of you that he couldn’t eat. The human brain may seen fatty and tasty to some, but it’s enough to kill your braincells if ever ingested. Liver is also toxic; with too much of its Vitamin A, it’s enough to weaken your body, make you nauseous, and induce general body aches and pains.

He had a plate of your fresh heart right before him, seated at his dining table. Taking his knife and fork, he chopped a fine piece for him to eat. As powerful as an orgasm fulfilling him, kindling flames of carnal ecstasy and desire, he’s never had anything so delectable that the taste of you ripped through him like wildfire. You were perfect. You tasted orgasmic. Ravaging and ravishing in your flavor that he couldn’t wait to eat the rest of you. And now that you were apart of him, together forever, nothing was going to separate this beautifully morbid union.

But it wasn’t until another wicked idea comes across his head.

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It’s only been a day since you’ve gone “missing.” You weren’t answering when your boyfriend, Gojo, tried calling you; absolutely worried that you didn’t make it home last night. But when he finally received a text sent from your phone saying to meet him back at the restaurant at a specific time, he was relieved that you were okay.

But something wasn’t right.

The restaurant was empty. Most of the chairs were stacked on top of the table and there weren’t many employees. Somehow a hostess allowed him in and directed him over to a single table in the center of the restaurant, the table candles brightly lit and a single chandelier illuminating right above him. It was quiet. Uneasy. A little bone-chilling to be the only one sitting in this restaurant all alone with a hostess. He tried calling for you, but the service appeared to be down. He looked around and was about to get up from his seat until the kitchen doors swing wide open.

A tall man with neatly styled blond hair and glasses steps out with a tray of food, dressed in a waiter attire with a white apron. Gojo halted, drawing his eyebrows together in bewilderment as the he walks over towards his table and gently sets the tray down, revealing a large bowl of hot soup that he’s never seen on the menu before.

“Apologies for the inconvenience. I believe I also haven’t properly introduced myself,” the man spoke so eloquently. “I am Nanami Kento. The owner of this restaurant.”

“Oh.” Gojo was still slightly frazzled with confusion, nervous eyes darting every corner and avoiding eye contact with Mr. Nanami just to find you. “Well, it’s nice to meet you, sir, but have you seen my girl? We’re regulars here. And where is everybody?”

“Your girlfriend is already here.” Nanami’s gaze grows cold and aloof as if the frames of his glasses grew dark, unable to recognize his eyes. “And because you two are my regulars, I decided to give you the extra special treatment and booked you for today only. Everything is on the house, including this soup. Tell me what you think.”

Gojo inhaled the bowl of soup, taking in the aroma of hints of vegetables like onions, carrots, potatoes, herbs, and other spices. But there was an unfamiliar, pungent scent that he couldn’t quite put his finger on…

“Wait, is this new? I don’t think I’ve ordered the soup from here like this before. What is it?”

“This is the Rich Liver & Potato Gratin,” Nanami deadpanned, trying his hardest to contain himself from how much of a nuisance your boyfriend is to him. “It was just added as my latest rendition to the menu and you will be the first to try.“

Gojo hummed in response, now piqued with curiosity from the slight reassurance. He took his soup spoon and delved it in the bowl, picking up a pieces of liver and the chopped potatoes. He gently blows on it before taking it to his lips and slurping it, the savory broth enveloping his body with warmth.

“Fuck. Holy shit this is amazing.” With every spoonful, his entire body relaxed, and a sense of nourishment washed over him. “What did you put in this, sir? Is this like beef broth with pork liver?”

“No, sir. It’s your girlfriend.”

Just as he swallowed a piece of the “liver” from his “soup,” a horrifying clarity washed over him after his brain thoroughly registered his sentence. At first, Gojo was in denial. He frowned. Then hefted out a weak chuckle. Then he threw his head back in maniacal laughter that his spit and tiny pieces of his food landed on the table from chewing with his mouth open. “What! I didn’t know you were this fucking funny, man. I mean, I’d say this tastes just as good as my girl. Is that what you mean?”

“No, sir. I completely made this with just her remains.”

“Wait, what?” Gojo scoffed, and Nanami tried his best to contain every fiber of his being from literally stabbing him repeatedly until that cocky grin disappears from his face. Hopefully the affect wouldn’t take too long to kick in before your dumb boyfriend’s brain could finally click.

“This soup that I presented for you… is made out of your girlfriend’s liver. Her beautiful flesh that I cut out of her precisely, all cooked and ready just for you. But do be warned…”

The aftertaste suddenly became grotesquely rich and acrid to Gojo, lingering disturbingly in his mouth with an unsettling metallic tang. It wasn’t until the horrifying realization dawned on him slowly, making him feel physically nauseous. A creeping unease settled in his stomach. He could feel the pain gradually intensify into this gnawing pain as Mr. Nanami’s words reverberated like a distant echo in his mind. Sweat started to break out on his forehead. His stomach couldn’t stop twisting and contorting erratically that he clutched on his abdomen.

“… and because of overdose of Vitamin A, the human liver is too toxic to be consumed. At least I was nice enough to share her distasteful leftovers to you,” he spoke lowly, ominous and threatening. “It was just like you wanted. Eating your beloved girlfriend if she was on our menu.”

Gojo’s numb body collapsed to the floor, the cold tiles pressing against his pale face. The Rich Liver & Potato Gratin that has never tasted so delicious to him was nothing but a cruel, insidious poison. Darkness edged into his sight and his consciousness wavered, a sign that his life was fading greatly.

Nanami stared blankly at his dead body as if he was unamused, but inside he was finally relieved that he’s no longer alive to pester him or anybody else. He had enough money to cover the whole crime scene, including the mysterious disappearance of you. Hell, even his employees under his wing would take care of the situation for him, like his hostess that cleaned up the mess on his floor and the chefs taking care of his body and getting rid of him forever.

As the weeks progressed, Nanami still made meals out of your flesh that he’s been storing in his freezer. On Saturday night he made ribs with Korean BBQ inspiration. And the moment he indulged in your ribs served sliced, rolled in romaine lettuce leaves with white rice, browned garlic slices, gochujang, along with the sweet and savory sesame and soy sauce marinade, he almost came in his pants seated at his dining table from just how beautiful you tasted.

And eventually, if he were to run out of your flesh one day, at least he got to keep your beautifully decapitated head in his freezer like a trophy.

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

[RIDE ANNOUNCER] Please remain seated until the ride comes to a complete stop. Then collect your belongings, watch your head, and step carefully out the vehicle. Don’t forget to dispose your 4D glasses at the bins before you exit. On behalf of all of our crew, thanks for riding with us, and we hope you have a happy and memorable visit here at Horrorland!

𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐊𝐒 𝐁𝐄𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐎 𝐕𝐈𝐋𝐒𝐎𝐎 © 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒. do not steal, plagiarize, translate, or repost/share any of my works on any social media where minors have access. will be cross- posted on my ao3 soon.

𖤐 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒: @screampied @gloomiigloom @cloudi-eyes333 @isuckatmakingusernamess @aestheticgals-blog @lik0 @shintax-error @oneyedwillie @st0nedbitch @yaeil @alittletiredcry @salems-trial @kenniekenns @celcstia @thescorpiohottie @jnoppy @drowning-dee @meepmidget @chocolategirl38 @kidding3 @ggukiespace @migueloharacumslut @writtenbyawoman @iss-chromatica @zionysuss @colortheoryrocks @bigg1ow @slutforaz @unknown-borealis @doestalker @ghostlvmi @deftoneslut004 @yongi-lee @glittergagged @virgobitch00

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littlelamy · 3 months ago

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shopping trip: rafe x reader

the boutique is one of those upscale places rafe prefers—sleek and modern, where the clothes are as expensive as they look. you’re not sure why you agreed to come,

but rafe insisted, dragging you along despite knowing how his shopping trips go. his idea of shopping is more like a private runway show where he plays the role of a critical, demanding boyfriend and you’re his model.

standing in front of a wall of dresses, you run your fingers over the delicate fabrics when rafe’s hand snakes around your waist, pulling you back against his chest. “pick something already, babe,” he murmurs, his voice low and impatient. “you’ve been staring at the same rack for five minutes.”

“i’m just looking,” you say, glancing over your shoulder. his look is a mix of smirk and dare, challenging you to take your time when you know that’s not his style.

“yeah, well, you’re here to try things on for me,” he says, his tone dripping with arrogance. he walks over to a nearby rack and starts thumbing through dresses with clear disinterest.

rolling your eyes, you pull a few dresses and head to the fitting room. rafe follows, leaning against the wall outside with his arms crossed, his piercing blue eyes never missing a detail.

inside, you close the door, heart racing. starting with a black silk dress, you step out, feeling his eyes on you immediately. “what do you think?” you ask, trying to stay light despite the shiver down your spine.

rafe doesn’t answer right away. he tilts his head, his gaze intense. “turn around,” he commands, his voice firm.

you comply, feeling his eyes roam over your body. when you face him again, he’s frowning. “it’s fine,” he says dismissively, “but it’s boring. you can do better.”

trying to hide your frustration, you slip into a red dress with a deep neckline. stepping out, rafe’s reaction is immediate. his eyes darken, jaw clenching. “mhm,” he hums, “that’s more like it.”

you feel a flush of satisfaction but before you can savor it, rafe pulls you closer, his hand around your wrist. “spin around,” he orders, his voice rough. you turn slowly, feeling his gaze burn into you. when you face him again, his hand slides from your wrist to your waist, pulling you against him.

“yeah, this one’s better,” he murmurs, his lips brushing your ear. “but you know what would make it perfect?”

“what?” you breathe, feeling the heat between you.

rafe’s lips curl into a smirk as he leans down, his mouth grazing your neck. “if we weren’t in this store right now,” he says, voice low and suggestive, “i’d have you take it off.”

you swallow, heat pooling in your stomach. rafe’s never been shy about what he wants. the way he looks at you makes your knees weak.

pulling back slightly, you raise an eyebrow. “oh, really? what if i like this dress?”

rafe’s grip tightens, his smirk darkening. “i don’t care what you like,” he says coldly. “i care what i like. and i like the idea of you in this dress for about five minutes… and out of it for the rest of the night.”

you bite your lip, trying to suppress a grin. rafe’s arrogance is intoxicating, even when he’s being impossible.

“is that so?” you challenge. “maybe i’ll just buy this one and wear it out. alone.”

rafe’s eyes flash dangerously, and he presses you against the fitting room wall, hand gripping your jaw. “you think you’re cute?” he growls. “you think you can tease me and get away with it?”

your breath hitches, but you meet his gaze. “maybe,” you whisper.

rafe’s thumb brushes your lower lip, his eyes dark with lust. “you’re mine,” he murmurs, voice low and rough. “and you’re not going anywhere without me.”

his possessiveness sends a thrill down your spine. despite his arrogance and how he pushes you, you love the way rafe claims you. because, in his twisted way, you are his.

#rafe obx #rafe imagine #rafe cameron #rafe x reader #rafe x you #outerbanks rafe #rafe fic #rafe outer banks #rafe #rafecore #rafe cameron obx

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her-satanic-wiles · 2 months ago

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Kinktober Day 28 - Uniform

Brother Imperator x Reader

Copia got his promotion to head of the clergy, and with it a new uniform. And you couldn’t keep your hands off him.

Masterlist ⛧ Kinktober 2024 Masterlist

Words: 5.1k.

Reading Time: 21 min.

Warnings: creampie, PIV sex, public sex, thigh riding, vaginal sex, uniform kink, unprotected sex

Taglist: @akayuki56 @alien-the-ghost @amazing-bobinsky @angellayercake @anonymous-appreciation @babydestinyinfluencer @bitchywitchygardener @blossomsea @call-me-little-sunshine84 @copiaspet622 @copiasslut @cosmixxdust @da-rulah @dolceterzo @dopey-fandom-girl @faithisyours @ghoulishxdelights @hauntedharmonic-ghoulishhaunter @high-above-the-city @howlingco @inkstainedrat @kaijukimchi @kenken-the-shoggoth @ledger-kaos @magopi @megachaoticstupid @meliza1001 @miss-leto @mommy-dust @neganwifey25-blog @piaart @saintbowie @shycardinale @sister-of-sin-claudia @sisterof-sin @sodoswitchimage @the-did-i-ask @xiyingly @zombiesnips-blog

🔞 MDNI 🔞

The moment your eyes met his, you knew you were in trouble. For the first time in ages, he’d stripped back the elaborate paints, leaving only the faintest hint of kohl around his eyes, allowing every distinguished line and angle of his face to shine through. His new look was a vision—his smart uniform a departure from the traditional Papal robes, but no less commanding. The suit was a sleek, modern twist on his usual regalia: rich black fabric that hugged his form perfectly, every seam tailored to emphasize his broad shoulders and lean frame. A single, dark blazer sat unbuttoned and fell neatly at the waist, held together by two ruby pins that caught the light like blood-red flames. From them both, a diamond-studded grucifix dangled just over his upper abdomen, the glittering charm drawing your gaze with a dangerous allure. His look was seductive yet regal, an intimidating blend of elegance and dark charm. You could hardly breathe as he approached, each step deliberate, with a knowing glint in his eye that told you he was fully aware of the effect he had on you.

He stepped forward, arms slowly outstretched, his hands still gloved in that familiar, supple leather. The movement itself was an invitation—a silent command to take him in, to fully appreciate the figure standing before you. He said nothing, but the slight tilt of his head and a quiet, almost shy hum conveyed, “This is the new me.” And the transformation was powerful. Gone was the ornate guise of Papa; here stood Frater Copia Imperator, every inch of him exuding authority and confidence, as if the Ministry itself had reshaped to match his presence. The old robes had held him back, binding him to tradition, but this—this new look—carried the weight of true dominion. His domain, his rules, and he seemed to bask in it, his gaze dark and intent, as though savoring the scope of his control.

This wasn’t just Copia; it was Copia unleashed, finally embracing his true place. Like Lucifer reigning over Hell, he was perfectly in his element, ready to rule with an intensity that sent a thrill through your core.

You, however, were too thrilled about his new uniform to even consider the consequences of this promotion. You just wanted that chain dangling in your face as he -

“I don’t know who the new Papa is yet,” Copia told you, pulling you out of your horny musings. “Apparently he will be arriving soon, but I don’t know.”

Copia’s words pulled you out of your daze, but only for a moment. That glint in his eye, the way his fingers traced the edge of the ruby pin on his blazer—it stirred something deeper. You tried to refocus, to keep your thoughts on his words instead of the sinful path your mind had wandered down. But when he shifted, the delicate grucifix on its diamond-studded chain swayed, catching the light and drawing your gaze right back to it, and him.

“Hmm,” he murmured, watching you closely, a subtle smirk playing on his lips. “Seems like I’ve already lost you.” He stepped in closer, his gloved hand reaching out to cup your chin, bringing your gaze up to meet his. His thumb traced a slow circle along your jaw, the leather sending a shiver through you. “Were you even listening to me, tesoro?”

You opened your mouth to respond, but the words tangled as he leaned in, the chain now dangling just above your lips. He lowered himself even closer, enough that his breath warmed your skin. “Distracted, hm?” he whispered, voice as smooth and dark as velvet. “Or is it something else you’re interested in?”

With an amused tilt of his head, he straightened just slightly, but his grip on your chin remained firm. The chain hovered enticingly between you both, and the glint of the rubies seemed to cast a soft, scarlet hue over his eyes. “What were you thinking about just now?” he teased, his voice low, drawing out the words with a lazy, knowing tone.

Your heart raced as you felt yourself flush under his gaze. He let his gloved thumb slip down, tracing your lower lip, his smile deepening as you trembled under his touch.

The restraint you’d been trying so hard to keep shattered in an instant. Words wouldn’t cut it now; only action would. Before he could utter another teasing word, you launched yourself at him, fingers curling into the collar of his blazer as you pressed your body flush against his. He barely had time to gasp, his eyes widening before they darkened with a raw hunger of his own.

The chain swung between you, grazing against your chest as you pressed him against the wall, your lips crashing into his with all the ferocity of pent-up desire. He gave a low, muffled moan, hands moving to grip your waist, steadying himself as you pinned him there. You pulled back just enough to catch your breath, your gaze fierce and unwavering.

“Oh,” he breathed, voice rough and laced with amusement. “Not even going to tell me what you want first? Just taking it, eh?” His smirk was devilish, eyes hooded as he leaned forward, lips brushing your jawline. “As bold as ever, tesoro.”

Your fingers slid down, finding the clasp of his belt, your intentions laid bare in the determined way you worked it open. He sucked in a sharp breath, his gloved hands sliding up your sides, encouraging you, grounding himself in the pressure of your touch.

“Here?” he murmured, glancing around the empty corridor but not looking the least bit reluctant. “Right here in the open, where anyone could see?” His voice dripped with exhilaration at the idea. The thrill in his eyes was unmistakable as he tugged you even closer, his hands roving possessively over your body.

“Oh, let them,” you whispered, pressing a fierce kiss to his throat as his head fell back. “I refuse to wait any longer.”

A low growl rumbled from his chest at your words, and any remaining control he had snapped. With a rough pull, he reversed your positions, pinning you back against the wall, his body pressed firmly against yours. His gaze bore into you, pupils blown wide with desire, the gleam of his chain catching the dim light as it swung between you both. He brought a gloved hand up, tracing it down the side of your face, down your throat, finally stopping to rest on your collarbone, his fingers curling just enough to feel your pulse racing under his touch.

“You have no idea what you’ve started,” he murmured, his voice a dark promise as his lips ghosted over the shell of your ear. The heat of him, the scent of his cologne mixing with the faint leather from his gloves, was intoxicating, overwhelming your senses as he kissed his way down your neck, teeth grazing your skin just enough to make you shiver.

With one swift movement, he slipped a leg between yours, pressing his thigh against you as his hands found your waist, holding you firmly against him. The friction, even through your clothing, was electric, sending shockwaves through you. He smirked against your neck, clearly enjoying the effect he was having on you. “Look at you,” he whispered, his tone darkly amused as he ground his thigh ever so slightly, “already unraveling for me, and I’ve barely even started.”

You tightened your grip on his blazer, feeling your resolve slipping away completely. “Then don’t stop,” you whispered, daring him, your voice rough with need.

He chuckled, his lips curving against your skin. “Oh, I won’t.” His voice dropped lower, every word a promise. “But I’m going to take my time with you, right here. Let every inch of this place echo with the sounds of us.” His fingers found the hem of your shirt, slipping underneath to brush against your bare skin, igniting every nerve with his touch.

As his mouth claimed yours once more, his kiss was slower, more intense, his movements deliberate as if he wanted to make you feel every second of it. His gloved hand moved to your chest, thumb brushing over your skin, drawing a gasp from your lips that he swallowed eagerly. The thrill of the forbidden, the possibility of being caught, only seemed to drive him further, his kiss growing deeper, more insistent, as his hands roamed possessively over you, leaving no inch of you untouched.

And as he pulled back just enough to lock eyes with you, a wicked gleam in his gaze, he leaned in close and whispered, “By the time I’m done, tesoro, everyone here will know exactly who you belong to.”

Your movements grew more desperate, grinding against his thigh as his hands roamed your body, each touch and squeeze lighting you up in ways you hadn’t felt in so long. He held you firmly, almost possessively, his fingers digging into your hips to guide your movements, pressing you harder against him with each roll of your body. His breathing grew heavier, his lips never far from your skin, leaving trails of hot, lingering kisses down your neck.

His gloved hand slid lower, slipping beneath the waistband of your clothes, his fingers brushing over your skin with a tantalizing slowness that made you shudder. He paused there, his mouth close to your ear as he murmured, “Look at you, so eager for me.” His voice was low, laced with a dark amusement that sent a thrill through you, making you push against him harder, needing the friction, needing him.

Copia chuckled, dark and deep, his thigh pressing up with just the right pressure, making you gasp. “Oh, you like that, don’t you?” His hand traced back up, gliding over your chest, fingers grazing the sensitive spots he knew so well, making your head spin. “You want more?” he asked, though he already knew the answer, his eyes gleaming with a devilish satisfaction as he watched your reaction.

“Please…” you breathed, barely able to form words under his touch.

He smirked, his thumb brushing across your cheek in a mockingly tender gesture. “That’s it,” he purred. “I want to hear you beg for it, right here. Let everyone know what you need from me.”

The sheer thrill of his demand had you trembling against him, and as his thigh pressed harder, his fingers digging into your skin, you couldn’t hold back anymore. You moaned softly, moving against him with wild abandon, feeling him take in every sound, every shiver as his mouth claimed yours again, consuming you in a searing, possessive kiss that left you aching for more.

The pressure built until it was overwhelming, each roll of your hips pushing you closer and closer to the edge. His thigh pressed firmly against you, his hand gripping your waist with just enough force to ground you yet keep you spiraling. His mouth was at your neck, lips moving hot and slow, and you felt yourself unraveling, unable to hold back any longer.

And then it happened—a rush of pleasure crashing over you, your body trembling as you came right there, held in place by his hands and the unrelenting press of his thigh. The intensity left you breathless, your fingers clutching his blazer, as though clinging to him was the only thing keeping you steady.

He groaned softly as he felt you shudder against him, his gaze darkening with satisfaction. “There we go,” he murmured, his tone rich with pride and something even deeper, a possessive glint in his eye. “Just like that, tesoro.”

His hand stroked your back in lazy, soothing circles as you caught your breath, barely able to comprehend what you’d just done, right there in the middle of the corridor. But he didn’t look the least bit surprised—in fact, he seemed thrilled, his gaze roving over you with a smug sense of accomplishment.

Before you could say a word, he leaned in close, his lips brushing your ear as he whispered, “Now, shall we continue somewhere more… private? I’m far from finished with you.”

“I refuse to wait any longer,” you panted. “Please just fuck me, Copia.”

A flash of something dark and eager crossed his face, and before you could even draw another breath, he spun you around, pressing your back against the wall with a controlled urgency that made your pulse quicken. His fingers hooked into the gusset of your panties, pulling them aside with a rough, unhesitating motion, his other hand already freeing himself from his trousers.

The moment was electric, charged with a tension that had been building too long. He didn’t waste another second, aligning himself and pressing into you in one smooth, deep thrust that stole the breath from your lungs. The sensation was overwhelming, his heat and weight pressing you firmly into the wall, grounding you while simultaneously making you feel as if you might float away. His grip on your hips was strong, possessive, his fingers digging in just enough to leave you tingling.

He held himself there for a heartbeat, his forehead pressing to your shoulder, a guttural groan escaping his lips as he felt you wrapped around him. Then, his grip tightened, and he began to move, his thrusts slow at first, deliberate, each one sinking in deeply, pulling another soft, breathy moan from you.

“Look at you,” he murmured, his voice a low growl, words punctuated by the rhythm of his thrusts. “So needy, couldn’t wait another second… I love it when you’re this desperate for me.”

His pace quickened, his hands sliding up your waist, holding you in place as he took what you’d so eagerly asked for, his hips snapping forward with a building intensity. Each thrust seemed to drive him deeper, his control slipping as he gave in to the pleasure, his breaths ragged in your ear as he pushed you toward that blissful edge once more.

His movements became more urgent, each thrust driving you harder against the wall, the sound of your bodies meeting echoing through the corridor. You could feel every inch of him inside you, stretching and filling you, and it only heightened your desire, pushing you closer to the brink without letting you fall over.

“Copia…” you gasped, the sound of his name falling from your lips like a prayer. You were lost in a haze of sensation, your body responding eagerly to every thrust, every shudder that ran through you as he rocked into you. He felt impossibly good, and the way he held you—his grip possessive yet tender—made you ache for more.

His lips found their way to your neck, hot against your skin, leaving a trail of kisses that ignited every nerve ending. “That’s right, tesoro,” he murmured, his breath warm against you, sending shivers down your spine. “Let me hear you. Let me know how much you want this.”

You moaned softly, pushing back against him instinctively, seeking more friction, more of that delicious pressure building within you. He chuckled darkly, clearly enjoying your eagerness, and he quickened his pace just slightly, teasing you with the promise of more without granting you release.

“You want it harder?” he taunted, his voice low and dripping with lust. “You’ll have to earn it. Show me how badly you need it.”

With that, he changed his angle, hitting that sweet spot inside you that made your head spin. The sensation was electric, and you gasped, feeling the heat pool low in your belly, but he was relentless, holding you right there on the precipice, teasing you with his control. Each thrust was deep and deliberate, building tension but denying you the sweet release you craved.

“Sathanas, you’re beautiful like this,” he breathed, his eyes dark with desire, locking onto yours as he continued to push you further into bliss. “So responsive… so fucking perfect.”

You writhed against him, desperate and aching, needing more, but he held you firmly in place, a wicked grin on his lips as he relished in your frustration, taking his time to savour every moment.

With a swift, commanding motion, he pulled out, leaving you breathless and wanting. The abruptness of it sent a shiver through you, a mix of anticipation and urgency swelling in your chest. “Get down,” he ordered, his voice low and firm, eyes darkened with desire.

You didn’t hesitate, the need to obey overriding any hesitation. You sank down onto the cool corridor floor, the surface a stark contrast to the heat radiating from your body. As you lay back, your heart raced, both from the thrill of his command and the way his gaze devoured you, hungry and insatiable.

Copia moved over you, his body looming above like a dark, predatory silhouette. He positioned himself between your legs, his hands gripping your thighs as he spread you open for him, the intensity of his stare sending jolts of excitement through you. “I want to see you,” he growled, his voice dripping with lust as he lined himself up once more.

With a sharp thrust, he entered you again, deeper this time, and you gasped as he filled you completely. The weight of him pressed you into the floor, his hips snapping forward with a force that made the chain hanging from his neck swing and sway tantalizingly in front of your face, glimmering in the dim light.

“Look at me,” he commanded, and you did, locking eyes with him as he drove into you, his expression a mix of pleasure and authority. The force of his movements sent ripples of pleasure coursing through you, his body perfectly in sync with yours, creating a heady rhythm that left you gasping and wanting more.

“You’re mine,” he said, punctuating each word with a thrust, the intensity in his voice matched only by the way he filled you. The chain danced tantalizingly close, swaying with every forceful movement, a physical manifestation of his power and control. You could hardly think, lost in the delicious friction and the way he possessed you, your body responding to every demanding push, every glorious pull.

Each powerful thrust brought the chain closer, its cool metal brushing against your cheek and lips, a reminder of the power he wielded over you. The sensation was maddening, and you could hardly focus on anything else—the rhythm of his hips, the way he moved inside you, the intoxicating sight of him looming over you, chain swinging with every thrust, an emblem of his dominance.

As he continued to thrust into you, the chain swinging tantalizingly closer, you felt an overwhelming urge to taste him, to take in every part of him that you could. Your gaze fixed on the diamond grucifix dangling from his neck, the cool metal glimmering in the low light, and a wicked idea sparked in your mind.

With a quick movement, you reached up, grabbing the chain and pulling it closer to your mouth. You wrapped your lips around the grucifix, sucking on it as if it were his cock, the sharp, metallic taste mingling with the heat radiating off your body. It felt deliciously forbidden, a bold display of your need for him, and you could see the surprise flicker in his eyes, quickly replaced by something darker—hunger.

Copia’s thrusts stuttered for a moment, the sight of you eagerly sucking on the chain driving him wild. “Is that what you want, tesoro?” he growled, his voice low and gravelly, as he regained his rhythm. “You want to worship me like this?”

You nodded, still sucking on the grucifix, letting your tongue glide over the smooth surface, teasing it as you would with his cock. The action sent a thrill through him, and he picked up the pace, his thrusts growing more forceful, each movement pushing the grucifix deeper into your mouth, forcing you to take in more of the chain, feeling it cold against your lips.

The sensation was intoxicating, and the combination of his deep thrusts and the way you worshipped the grucifix left you breathless. You could feel the tension coiling within you, the line between pleasure and desperation blurring as you surrendered completely to the moment.

Copia’s breath grew ragged, each thrust driving him closer to his own climax. “That’s it, just like that,” he urged, his voice a mix of praise and urgency, each word sending heat coursing through you. “You’re perfect for this—such a good little pet.”

As he thrust deeper, you felt an insatiable urge rising within you, an overwhelming desire to amplify the pleasure coursing through your body. With your lips still wrapped around the grucifix, you let out a low, muffled moan that reverberated against the cool metal. The sound sent shivers of pleasure racing through you, echoing in the dimly lit corridor, as you began to touch yourself.

Your fingers moved eagerly between your legs, seeking out that sweet spot that had been yearning for attention. The sensation of your own fingers dancing over your sensitive skin, combined with the rhythmic pounding of his hips, sent shockwaves of ecstasy through you. You could feel every pulse of his thrusts inside you, each one making your fingers tingle with excitement as you rubbed your clit with a fervor that matched the intensity of the moment.

Copia’s gaze was fixated on you, his dark eyes blazing with hunger as he watched you pleasure yourself while he drove into you. “Look at you,” he growled, his voice thick with desire. “So fucking desperate for it. Don’t stop, tesoro. Let me hear you.”

You obeyed, your moans spilling out around the grucifix as you continued to suck on it, the metal a reminder of his dominance. Each thrust met your fingers moving with urgency, and you could feel the pressure building, both inside and outside, intertwining in a way that threatened to consume you whole.

“Good girl,” he praised, his pace becoming even more erratic, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the corridor. “You’re going to make me lose control, you know that? I want you to come for me while I’m buried deep inside you.”

The heat pooling low in your belly swelled, and you felt your body responding to his words, an electric thrill coursing through your veins. You moaned louder around the grucifix, the combination of your own touch, his powerful thrusts, and the deliciously forbidden act of sucking on the chain pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

With every movement, you lost yourself further in the blissful haze of pleasure, the world narrowing down to just the two of you—his thrusts, your moans, the grucifix swinging gently in the air, and the desperate need to feel him fill you completely as you chased that sweet release.

The pressure inside you reached a crescendo, building to an almost unbearable peak as you continued to work your fingers frantically, the urgency of your movements intensifying. You could feel every thrust from Copia, each one driving you closer to that edge, and the sweet sound of your moans around the grucifix only heightened your need.

Then, as if a dam had broken, the pleasure erupted within you like a tidal wave. The orgasm washed over you, more powerful than anything you had ever experienced before, leaving you breathless and utterly consumed. Your body trembled as the waves of ecstasy surged through you, making your toes curl and your back arch off the floor. You cried out around the grucifix, the sound mingling with the raw desire in the air, echoing through the corridor as you surrendered completely to the bliss.

Copia’s grip tightened on your thighs, his thrusts becoming more frantic as he felt your body clench around him, your orgasm pulling him closer to the edge. The sensation of you coming around him was overwhelming, and he couldn’t help but thrust deeper, seeking his own release even as he reveled in the way your body reacted to him.

“Fuck, yes!” he gasped, his voice a mix of awe and lust, completely enthralled by the sight of you lost in pleasure beneath him. “You’re so fucking beautiful when you come.”

As you rode the waves of your orgasm, you could feel your body pulsing around him, milking him with each spasm. The sensation heightened your pleasure even further, and the heat radiating from him added to the intoxicating mix. You let out one final, guttural moan, the sound echoing off the walls, as your body trembled in the aftermath of your release.

With each thrust, Copia felt the tension coiling tightly within him, his breaths coming in ragged gasps as he watched you ride the waves of your orgasm, completely lost in ecstasy. The sight of you—your body trembling beneath him, fingers still working furiously at your clit—drove him wild, urging him closer to his own release. He could feel the tightness of your walls clenching around him, coaxing him into that sweet abyss, and it sent a jolt of pleasure through his entire body.

“Sathanas,” he groaned, his voice thick with need, the intensity of the moment washing over him. “I can’t hold on any longer.” He thrust harder, the urgency in his movements increasing, desperation fueling his every action. Each powerful push drove him deeper, bringing him closer to the edge, and he couldn’t help but lose himself in the overwhelming pleasure of it all.

As the world around him faded away, all he could focus on was you—your beauty, your moans, the way your body responded to him. “I’m coming,” he breathed, just before his release crashed over him like a tidal wave.

With one final thrust, he buried himself deep inside you, the heat of his body merging with yours as he let go completely. He came hard, filling you with a warmth that spread through your core, the sensation of him spilling inside you pushing you back toward the edge once more. You gasped in shock and delight at the feeling, a mixture of his release and your own, amplifying the bliss that coursed through you both.

“Fuck, you feel amazing,” he breathed, his voice thick with satisfaction, as he rode out the waves of his climax, his body trembling as he remained anchored deep within you. The weight of him pressing down, combined with the warmth of his release, wrapped around you like a cocoon, leaving you both breathless and euphoric.

For a moment, time stood still as you lay there together, lost in the aftermath of your pleasure, the connection between you both tangible and electric. The corridor felt like your own private sanctuary, filled with the remnants of your shared ecstasy, and as you looked up into his dark, smoldering eyes, you knew this was just the beginning of what he could give you.

As Copia pulled out of you, the warmth of his body lingered in the cool corridor, leaving you both breathless and delightfully spent. He turned to lay beside you, a satisfied grin plastered across his face, the glow of post-coital bliss still evident in his eyes. The corridor felt like a world of its own, the thrill of what had just happened hanging in the air like a sultry fog.

Just as he was about to tuck himself away, a Brother of Sin strolled by, nonchalantly whistling a tune under his breath. You both froze, eyes wide, as he paused, glancing down at Copia. With an exaggerated eyebrow raise, he took in the scene before him: the disheveled state of both of you, the lingering signs of passion, and, of course, Copia’s still-exposed cock, glistening slightly in the dim light.

“Frater… Sorella,” the Brother acknowledged with a casual nod of his head, a smirk creeping across his lips. His eyes danced with amusement as he continued, “Looks like you’ve had a productive meeting, eh?”

Copia, ever the dramatic one, flushed a deep crimson, sputtering for words as he scrambled to cover himself. “I—I was just—uh, discussing… duties! Yes, very important duties!” he stammered, trying to regain some semblance of dignity.

The Brother chuckled, shaking his head as he continued walking, “Don’t let me interrupt your… practical training. Just remember, we have a reputation to uphold!” His voice trailed off, the mischievous tone lingering in the air.

Copia groaned, throwing a hand over his eyes in embarrassment, while you burst into laughter, unable to contain the joy of the moment. “Oh, this is just perfect!” you said, still giggling at the absurdity of it all. “Only us, right?”

Copia rolled onto his side, still flustered but unable to hide his own laughter. “At least I know my meetings are memorable,” he replied, a grin creeping back onto his face. “Next time, I’ll try to keep my—” he gestured vaguely at himself, “—professionalism intact.”

“Or maybe just find a more private location?” you teased, your eyes sparkling with mischief.

He chuckled, the embarrassment fading as the moment turned into yet another inside joke between you, the warmth of shared pleasure and laughter mingling together in the most delightful way.

Copia raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Oh, is that so?” he replied, leaning on one elbow to look at you, his expression a mix of feigned outrage and amusement. “I would like to remind you that this location was your idea!”

You couldn’t help but laugh, a bright sound that echoed off the corridor walls. “Well, I didn’t think we’d have an audience today!” you shot back, unable to suppress the grin on your face. “It’s not my fault that you have a penchant for the dramatic, Frater.”

“Dramatic?” he feigned shock, placing a hand over his heart. “I prefer to call it enthusiastic! Just look at how well it turned out!” He gestured around the corridor, as if the very walls would applaud his romantic choices.

With a dramatic flourish, he added, “It’s not every day you get to mix duty with a little… extracurricular activity.” He winked, his confidence returning, and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes at his antics.

“Extracurricular, huh? Is that what they’re calling it these days?” you quipped, nudging him playfully.

“Absolutely!” he replied, puffing out his chest in mock seriousness. “And let it be known: I am fully committed to the role of dedicated educator in our… field studies.”

“Right. I’m sure the Ministry will be thrilled to hear about your ‘educational’ methods,” you laughed, shaking your head. “Just try to keep it down next time, or we might end up with more than just curious Brothers wandering by.”

“Deal! But no promises if the curriculum gets a little… intense,” he winked, his voice dropping into a conspiratorial whisper, and you both burst into laughter once again.

Prev./Next

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seedsofagony · 2 months ago

Text

Sleepover (KnY ♡ Tengen)

Cherrytober Day 18: Can't Sleep // Sex Toys

Series: Kimetsu no Yaiba

Characters: Uzui Tengen

Word Count: 784

Summary: modern au, x reader (f), sleeping over, insomnia, sex toys, spit as lube, clit stimulation, unprotected sex, no pregnancy

Notes: Tengen snores, I don't make the rules (yes, I do) ⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅

Disclaimer: Underage, ageless, and blank blogs will be blocked. For everyone 18+, FUB free or filter my unique tag for this event: #sweets🍒24

You check your phone for what feels like the tenth time—2:59 a.m. How is that even possible? The last time you checked, it was like, 2:43. Wasn't that, like, an hour ago?

Groaning, you glance over at Tengen. He's sound asleep, lips gently parted, making the very softest of snores. He was out like a light basically the second his head hit the pillow, and honestly? It's kind of unfair.

You always have trouble sleeping at his place. You love spending the night and you should be exhausted from the evening's activities, but this isn't your pillow, his fan doesn't blow at the exact same speed and pitch as yours, and just, ugh.

Fine, then—if sleep won't come to you, you'll cum to sleep. You reach for the nightstand drawer and slide it open. Groping blindly, your hand closes around your trusty bullet vibe. Unlike the pillow and fan, this is the same one you have at home. Nothing fancy, but it gets the job done. You squeeze the on button and the little toy buzzes to life.

Frantically, you try to switch it off—why is it so fucking loud?! Flustered, you punch through the settings, trying to turn it off, the motor humming louder and louder till it sounds like a swarm of angry bees in the relative silence of the bedroom.

Tengen rolls over and looks at you, eyes bleary. "What are you doing…"

"Sorry, sorry!" you whisper-scream. "I didn't think it would be so loud!"

He stares at you a moment longer, watching as you finally turn the vibe off, only to turn it on again with your wild button-mashing. He sighs and plucks it out of your hands.

"No," Tengen says, working through the settings, finally stopping on the lowest setting. "I mean, you don't have to do it yourself."

He sits up, yawning, and pats his knee. "C'mere. Can't sleep?"

You hesitate. It's hours before your alarm is set to go off and you both have work in the morning, but… if he's up, he's up, right? You crawl into his lap, snuggling your back against his chest. Tengen leans his chin on your shoulder, wrapping his arms around you. Flipping up the hem of your pajamas—actually just one of his shirts—he sticks out his tongue and runs the vibe over it before pressing it between your legs.

The vibration hits you like a jolt—it's admittedly a bit much with no prep, but it's not long before you savor the sensation. You lean your cheek against his, nuzzling him as he works the toy around your bud.

"Like that?" he asks.

"Little bit more…"

Tengen pushes the button, turning up the vibe to a higher setting. You hum, twisting the sheets in your fingers. The fizzy little toy is no match for him, of course—his fingers, his lips, his tongue!—but it's not bad either. In fact, right now, in Tengen's hands, it's really not bad at all. The added intensity, the insistent drive of the motor, applied with his knowing touch…

"You're not gonna cum already, are you?" he teases. Even as he asks, he's pressing the button again and pushing the buzzing tip of the toy directly against your clit.

The vibrations are almost too much to bear, but if this is his idea of payback for waking him, you'll gladly take the abuse. Your focus narrows to the tip of the vibe, the rising pressure in your core. A shudder wracks your body as you cum, torn between waves of pleasure and the merciless buzzing of the vibe. Tengen holds it to you a moment longer, enjoying the way you squirm in his arms before finally taking it away.

"That help?" he asks, stretching.

Heady from the toy, core still spasming intermittently, you can only hum, "Mm-hm…"

"Good." Tengen leans back against the headboard. "Except now, I'm wide awake."

You turn, looking at him over your shoulder. "Do you wanna…?"

Because why not? If you're both going to be tired in the morning, you might as well make the most of it. And, clearly, Tengen is of the same mind—even in the darkness, you can make out the flash of his grin. He gives you a gentle push forward, tipping you onto your hands and knees. Reaching around, he holds the bullet to your between your legs.

"Hold this for me, okay, princess?"

You close your hand around his, whimpering at the vibrations coursing through your still-sensitive bud. You feel his tip at your entrance, and he sinks in balls-deep, your slit stretching to swallow him up.

"If this doesn't tire you out, I don't know what will," he purrs, bucking his hips.

#cherrytober2024 #kimetsu no yaiba x reader #demon slayer x reader #uzui tengen #kny uzui #kny tengen #uzui tengen x reader #kny smut #spoiler free #sweets stories #sweets🍒24

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1waveshortofashipwreck · 11 months ago

Note

heyyy love ur stuff btw! Could you maybe do hc’s of how our boys when someone is being mean to the reader? Thanks ;)) Maybe like a modern AU? Or any AU you’d prefer, thank you!

Aaaaaaaa thank you for the ask friend!! I love this idea!!! So I pictured this in a Modern!AU where the pair is at a coffee shop waiting on their order. The Boy puts his arm around them and the person next to them just sneers and goes “Can y’all get a room? Or at least be with someone nice to look at?” OBVIOUSLY referring to y/n with just a palpable amount of spite and venom.

Dick Winters

I see him just hugging you tighter and maybe turning his back to the guy, like, if he's gonna be an ass about Dick's favorite person he doesn't deserve the time of day. He'd say something so sweet too like, “if you think anyone could be more beautiful than them, you need to get your eyes checked,” before planting a kiss on your cheek and grabbing your drinks.

Lewis Nixon

I can see him definitely getting irritated but also seeming kinda baffled? Like I can see him just saying something like, “Are you serious right now? You see how gorgeous they are, right? Who hurt you, man?” Like he’d be so genuine about it too, even scoffing and shaking his head while y’all walk out with your drinks - like, how tf can someone say that about the most perfect human on earth???

Ron Speirs

I have a strong feeling that the guy’s words leave his mouth before he saw Ron, because I just imagine the dude being Christianson in Bastogne, like, he see’s Speirs’ face and just feels as though he has Met His End. So all Speirs does is put his arm around you and say, “you wanna try that again?” the guy just stutters and replies, “you make a lovely couple,” before scurrying away. I can soooo see Ron just having a smug smile on his face before giving you a kiss.

Harry Welsh

Ok so considering this man got demoted from sergeant to private three (3) different times due to getting in fights I have a feeling he would just be like “OH ITS THAT KINDA PARTY HUH? YOU WANNA TRY SAYING THAT AGAIN ASSHOLE??” Like this dude could be twice Harry’s size but your Boy can and will throw hands to defend you and he’s not afraid to get hurt while doing it. 10/10 needs you to help with his bruised knuckles after but he apologizes and y’all enjoy your drinks (specifically savoring it because y’all got banned from the coffee shop).

Eugene Roe

I feel like this could go two ways - A) he tells the guy off (“why don’t you mind your business asshole”), holds you close to him, and grabs your drinks without saying a word, or B) he grabs you by the waist and just goes to town trying to merge your mouths into one. This man would just do everything in his power to put on display his love and passion for you. Soon enough the dude will get weirded out and leave, but not before Doc performs award-winning CPR.

Bill Guarnere

Oh boy we got Party Boy #2 over here. “Why don’t you shut ya yap before I shut it for ya?” Your mans would square up to the dude no questions asked. If the dude steps down, Bill would just say, “yeah, that’s what I thought,” before proudly putting his arm around you. If the dude makes a poor decision and steps up to Guarnere… next thing you know poor Bill is apologizing to you while you hold his cold brew up to his black eye to keep the swelling down… the dude apologized though! All thanks to Ol’ Gonorrhea.

Joe Toye

I feel like his reaction is betwixt Guarnere and Nixon. Like, for one thing, he’s genuinely confused. He just gives the dude his classic Eyebrows before pulling you close to him. At first he won’t say anything, but if the dude keeps going he’ll just say to him in a low voice, “you looking for a fight pal?” Honestly that would be enough to scare the dude away while Joe just hugs you tight and kisses your temple before the barista calls your names.

George Luz

This boy would twist the dude’s words perfectly. “Oh you’re absolutely right, they could get someone WAY hotter than me!” before smirking over at you. You can’t help but give George a playful smack on the chest before laughing with him and laying your head on his shoulder… then he’d totally just look at you and think “how’d I get so lucky???” we love a silly soft boi

Joe Liebgott

Fighty Boy #3 and you can’t tell me otherwise. It’d be similar to Guarnere on the ship - he’d have to make sure he heard the dude right at first… “What’d you just say?” like you can feel his angy levels rising by the second. The dude just goes, “you heard me,” and before anyone can even blink the dude is knocked out on the ground, like, the swifest punch known to man and it came from your boyfriend (kinda hot ngl) and you just give him a Look before he smirks and kisses the air from your lungs and… why were you mad at him again? And why are you getting thrown out of the cafe???

Floyd Talbert

Ok so remember how Roe gave you life-saving CPR? Tab’s first instinct is life-taking CPR, like, this man just glares at the dude before pulling you close by your waist (and maybe a hand on your ass because its Tab) and just going to TOWN on your lips, neck, wherever he can reach just to show the idiot dude how in love with you he is and how stupid he was to make that comment… of course instinctively your hands to Tab’s hair and y’all just get Lost in the Sauce and when the barista calls y’all’s names you don’t even hear them.

Shifty Powers

Asdf sweet baby angel would just hold you close and whisper to you, “I’m sorry you had to hear that, you don’t believe him right?” Just keeping all his attention on you and hugging you close with both arms just lovingly wrapped around you, both of y’all forget everything else exists and you just happily hold each other for a bit before you get your drinks (this is all unless shifty has his rifle then the dude’s Time Has Come courtesy of Darrell C. Powers).

ngl this might've been the most fun I've had writing something 🤣 Thank you again for the ask love!! Hope you have a wonderful day!

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summercreolefanfictioner · 3 months ago

Text

the scent wafts in, her name making him beg on his knees BONUS CHAP 1

pairing: dabi / todoroki touya x fem!oc / reader (MODERN AU)

summary: she was on a date, yet another man captivated her heart with his beautiful blue gaze (fem!oc-centric)

(in which Sonohara airs her side of story.)

themes: mentions of cheating, sex, alcohol, cigarettes etc YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED

notes: forgive me for errors; I just had to post due to my excitement lol sonohara's pov gives so much insights on how the two of them started and I like romance bcos I am just a girl 💅

------

She didn't know what she did to be stared upon by the most beautiful pair of blue eyes—cold, intense, piercing her like blades halted in time and she was too slow to get away from them. She was sitting alone in the middle of the bar, her boyfriend doing the same shitty lame of an excuse about his stomachache and going to the toilet when she knew he was doing someone out there, probably screwing with a random woman until her senses go wild and hazy and she knows this woman wouldn't be able to walk back to the bar and he'd be feeling refreshed with that smug face like an accomplishment; like another earned medal in his collection of awards.

It was one thing to accuse one's boyfriend of cheating; it was another thing to know it was true.

High school was her supposed spring of bloom, a newfound romance with her boyfriend bore fruit and it had been bliss. Had... had it been for him to change his mind afterwards. It was like the songs. Young love doesn't last forever, everyone's always out to chase the thrill—just like him. They exchanged a lot of promises before, about being each other's "only" and "forever," but he quickly forgot about those the moment they went separate ways during college. They met new people in their perspective universities, and while she still had her heart in his hands, it only took him a while before he started becoming so secretive, so easily annoyed when she voices out her opinions, and so distracted and uninterested when she tells him about her day. She tried confronting him, but he would immediately shot down her accusations, that it was all in her head; that she was making up things to fight about.

She wanted to lie, to stay because he comes around and makes her hope that he had changed and he finally realized she was the one he truly needed. Life was not a story of boy changes himself because of a girl. Life was boy decides to break the girl's heart because he knew he can. This was her painful reality.

"I want to break up with him... He... I saw him cheating on me... many times already."

"What are you talking about? Think about your future for once! He's from a well-off family, and he earns so much as an architect. Be grateful he's still coming back to you. Those women are just flings. Sex and love are two different things!"

Those were the things her mom said, all because she doesn't see anything redeeming about her (not that she cared, honestly; she never had the thought of earning anyone's approval anyway). Realizing this twisted routine became her new normal, she feared breaking up. She feared bringing the topic to light because she got used to him being around despite not caring anymore if he went out on a few dates with someone else while he's at work elsewhere or having sex with a random stranger he met. She lost it in her to care, to savor the true love she wanted.

It wasn't love. The love has already faded. It was just her scared of a life without this normal chaos.

Until this one man with the pair of beautiful blue eyes, unruly dark hair, mysterious boyish charm, and dangerous vibes sat in front of her; on the same seat her boyfriend should've been if he wasn't so busy doing something (rather someone) else. He was quite rugged, punk rock style encasing his charm, and with the heavy scent of whiskey and mint lingering around him. She wanted to squint her nose so bad at the smell, but that would be a bit rude, though. Nonetheless, he was boyishly handsome in her book, an enigma of a man whose features did not coincide with the traditional "handsome Japanese guy."

I bet he looks more handsome with a lighter hair color.

"You don't fit in here," he said coldly, his nonchalant tone evident as how he stared at her like he was staring straight through her soul; like he was judging her entirety with every fiber of his being.

Honestly, she couldn't argue wtih him, especially when it was true. She didn't fit in here; she didn't want to be here in the first place, if not for her boyfriend who insisted she should try going to a bar to celebrate her promotion at work. And much to her surprise, this man in front of her was a lot nicer than he looks—even gave her his leather jacket, making all the burnt scars across his body visible. Some girls around her even gawk at the sight of his perfectly toned muscles because my oh my, he was ripped. RIPPED TO THE CORE. She was sure she had only seen men like these in the movies, but for this man to talk to someone like her, it was like a dream.

This is just a silly crush, okay? No big deal. Stop acting like a schoolgirl.

Afterwards, he told her to come with him and his friends outside where they could watch a romance movie and have a smoke. Well, a weaker part of her wanted to, like she was so willing for this man to just take her somewhere far away from here and never return to her morbid reality; the rational part of her warned her not to be rude, that she still has her date out there. So, she declines, a lump in her chest with the way she lied about her boyfriend's whereabouts. That he was having a stomachache or something. How foolish a girl can be.

"Are you sure you want to go by that answer?"

Of course, she was not. So when he grabbed his keys and held her hand, she already that this guy, whatever his name was, already had her heart in his hands. This was cruel; this was thrilling; this was making her happy and guilty for it. Attraction and temptation were two devils conniving to begin her downfall as she took in the way his warm and rough hand was so gentle as he guided her to his car. Even the stares he gave her when she and Himiko were watching the movie was too much for her heart, scolding herself mentally for not being able to control her emotions. At the same time, she would reason out, It's all his and his beautiful, mysterious eyes' fault that I am this way. He should stop being beautiful, at least.

When he left them to take a hit of his cigarette, they watched the movie quietly. It was a comfortable silence until Himiko affirmed the emotions burning in her.

"You like Dabi," the blonde stated with a sneaky smile, the same Cheshire cat thingy that she quite loathed at the moment.

"Da—who?"

Himiko rolled her eyes. "Dabi! The guy with the dark hair. You like him. You keep on ogling him, Sahara-chan!"

It was out in the open, and all she could do was blush in embarrassment. Well, there's no harm telling about Himiko everything, right? She's never had a friend aside from her older sister, so might as well have someone who'll listen to her pour out her real feelings.

"About earlier, I also like romance, Toga-chan," she started, seeing how Himiko was invested in whatever she wanted to say. "I just think romance does not suit me. I have a crush on..." she momentarily forgot the man's name, "him... but, you see, my boyfriend... even if I don't love him anymore, I don't know how to leave him."

"Shouldn't it be easy, though? You just tell him you're done with him and his bullshit," Himiko argued, shocking her with her vulgar words. "I don't know about the real details, but I heard him and Jin talk earlier and they said that jackass was having sex with one of the cocktail servers."

Right. Of course, he would. He had always done that before; have sex with someone while on a date with her.

"I am scared of the future. I am scared of the next step. He had been a constant even if I don't want him around. My life has stability as long as he is around."

Because once I break off things, my mom would never hear the end of it. People will talk. His parents will beg me to take him back no matter what. My father will do nothing about it like he always does. And that guy... he would take control of things to make himself look good. He does that everytime. I never win. I will always be in the wrong, after all.

"But... don't you want to be happy?" Himiko suggested. "I bet Dabi will make you happy."

"Huh?"

And before they could talk about it more, the guys have returned inside the car, and they all proceeded to watch the movie again. The more she watched the movie, the more she could relate to both the female characters. The feeling of wanting freedom was so liberating, and the feeling of wanting to be right was not in her favor. She sighed, and when she accidentally looked at the rear mirror, the man was staring at her.

She quickly looked away. Why is he staring? Has he been watching me?

And when he insisted to drive her home, she knew she had to mention that damn guy forcibly even though he was already out of the picture. She just had to, because this was all wrong. She should be catching feelings once she's single, and yet she still has no idea when that will happen. But nonetheless, being alone with this man who calls himself Dabi was so, so, so, soooo wrong. WRONG. WRONG. WRONG!

They had an argument at first, with him suddenly pulling her out of his car and sneering at her as he trapped her against a nearby wall. She was supposed to be scared, to be frightened at the proximity of him leaning close to her ear as the smell of cigarettes kept suffocating her. But she held herself, maintained her composure, and did not cry or blush.

"I can walk from here. Thank you again, Dabi-kun. Please send my regards to Twice-san and Toga-chan."

But "Dabi" did not let her go, still drove her home and even walked her to her door. That guy has never done that to her, but this man did. It was new. It was a fresh breath of air. It was a miracle to know yhat there were still men like him out there. And as she went inside, she held his jacket close to her body, imagining herself being trapped against that wall. She should've returned the jacket and go back to her sad reality without this Dabi or whoever he said he was (because she couldn't believe he was born with a name that means cremation.) But no; she wanted a piece of her own delusion.

She will take a dip, hoping she won't get burned later on.

next chapter

masterlist

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dearsnow · 1 year ago

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WON’T STOP RUNNING (‘TIL WE REACH THE SUN)

- it’s just you, your best friend, the sunset, and a heap of buried feelings in a big grass field. (jacaerys velaryon x gn!reader, modern au, fluff)

word count: 808

a/n - a fic for a fandom i’m not hyperfixated on anymore 🤯 it’s a bit rushed and not proofread, but i hope someone can get some enjoyment out of it anyways 😭 somewhat based on woodland by the paper kites

You smile, squinting at the pink and yellow sky. Jacaerys is in front of you, hair set alight by the dying sun and a sparkle in both of his eyes. “Come on, don’t waste the moment!” He shouts, urging you forward.

The grass field around you is large and slightly slanted. Wild grasses cover the expanse, tall and blowing in the breeze. It’s nearing the end of spring, but the flowers and weeds are still in full bloom. As you move forward, legs picking up speed and wind whipping around your face, the stalks and leaves around your feet brush against your ankles.

Jacaerys is leading, running so fast you think he would be flying if he wasn’t firmly stuck to the ground. You, of course, like always, follow.

It’s been four years since you met the boy in your 7th grade chemistry class, but it feels like a lifetime has passed since. You were fourteen and awkward, and in all honesty, so was he.

He seemed like the coolest person in the world; he had money, friends, these glasses with thick frames that were just beaten-up enough to be “stylish”. His hair was parted to the side, he had a little bit of acne, and his front tooth was twisted. Despite that, despite everything, no person could deny that he had a certain charm- you least of all. When he was seated next to you, your heart began to pound in your chest.

You also had an awkward phase. Multiple, if you really wanted to dig into it, but he stayed by your side the whole time. You just clicked like that, in a way neither he nor you had ever clicked before.

He’s changed a lot since then. He discarded his glasses for contacts, though he still keeps a pair of thin frames tucked inside his backpack, he has a nicer, longer haircut, and his mom forced him into braces the year after you met him. You will always see him as younger, though, and the redness around his cheeks and forehead will never let him forget it.

“I’m coming, slow down!” You pant, stumbling over your own feet. “You’ve been insufferable since joining track.”

“And yet you suffer me.” He jokes, turning around to walk backwards. “Wrestling just wasn’t enough.” He’s strong now, something you so often forget. Gone are the days of being able to beat him in an arm wrestling competition.

The sun shines over him. He looks ethereal in the light; it makes you want to push him over to make him stop being the most beautiful person you’ve ever seen in your life. So, like a best friend would, you do.

He grabs onto your hand at the last moment, but the damage is done. He falls backwards, landing on a soft plush of grass. In a moment, you feel a tug on your arm and see the world spinning out of view. You fall on top of him, laughing so hard you think your lungs might explode. He’s got a grin on his face as you roll to the side.

“Getting violent, huh?” He laughs. “And here I was, thinking that you loved me too much to try and kill me.”

“Oh, I love you, sure. That’s why I always want to kill you.” You stare up at the sky while he stares at you. “It’s like when you see a cute baby animal and just want to squeeze it.”

He squints his eyes. He’s always been able to see under your words, getting through the cracks in your voice like he was meant to know something deeper. But, like the gentleman he is, he’ll never call you out on something that he wasn’t supposed to know. He’ll savor the moment for now. The comfort of knowing you love him in one way or another, just like how he loves you, is a quiet reassurance.

“That’s sweet.” He scoffs. He gets up slowly, looking down at you still enveloped in the grass. His hand reaches out, offering an easy trip up for you. Your heart starts beating wildly at the idea of his palms touching yours, as if you’ve never touched him before. Of course, though, he has a trick up his sleeve.

He pulls you up and spins you around, causing you to trip on the side of his foot. Your footsteps stutter and he takes off, sprinting down the field while you’re still trying to regain your balance.

“No fair! God, fuck you.” Your eyebrows are furrowed as your voice rings out, but the sound of his panting laughter puts a smile on your face.

“You better catch up, ‘cuz I’m not stopping ‘til I reach the sun!” He calls.

You roll your eyes as you chase after him, the sun sinking lower and lower on the horizon.

Taglist (bolded are unable to be tagged): @mmmimilan @its-halleys-comet @savagemickey03 @persephonesportal @lovelyliliya @the-jess-life @spaceandstars @bbosica @hopelesswritergall @watercolorskyy @ghostheartbeat @cecespizza01 @panelhone @writervaul-t

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recipes2024 · 1 year ago

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Carne Asada alongside the lusciously creamy habanero honey polenta! 🌶️🌱Dive deep into Mexico's culinary heritage without leaving Houston.Embrace authentic tradition, savor the modern twist, and relish the moments you've saved. This dish is a heartfelt collaboration between two of our cooks, both hailing from Mexico. They've brought Salsa Molcajete Verde to life, traditionally prepared with a molcajete, to infuse soul into every bite! @vitalkitchenco #carne #carneasada #asada #creamy #habanero #honey #honeypolenta #habanerohoney #habanerohoneypolenta #habaneropolenta #hotcreamyhabanerosalsa #creamyhabaneropolenta #mexico #mexicofood #mexicanfoodinmexico #mexicofoodie #mexicofoods #salsa #salsamolcajeteada #salsamolcajete #salsamolcajeteada😋😋👌👌👌 #salsamolcajetea #molcajete #molcajetedecarnes #molcajetes #molcajeteviejo #molcajeteviral #molcajeteamateco #molcajetesalsa #molcajetesyartesaniasvillegas #molcajeteverde #vital #vitality #vitalkitchen #vitalkitchenco #kitchen #thekitchen #thekitchenco #recipe #recipes #recipes2024 #recipes2023 #recipes2022 #recipes2021 #recipes2020 #viral #fyp #fypシ #foryou #foryoupage #blowthisup #xy #xyzbca #xyzcba #xybc

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rosesloveletters · 3 months ago

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Jawbreaker Heart - Prologue

Pairing: 1971 Willy Wonka x Audrey Benedict (Fem. OC)

Word Count: 7,226

Warnings: no major content warnings apply.

Summary: At the height of its popularity, the Wonka brand had become a household name, synonymous with the whimsical and imaginative creations of its enigmatic founder, Willy Wonka. Yet, despite the brand's immense fame, Wonka himself remained a mysterious figure, preferring to spend his days immersed in the boundless realms of his own creativity. Wonka's carefully guarded solitude was shattered when his precious candy recipes were stolen, a devastating blow that transformed the once carefree and capricious chocolatier into a bitter, cynical dreamer. No longer able to trust in the blind faith of the public, Wonka is forced to navigate the complex and often treacherous channels of both business and creative endeavors, learning to trust again as he comes to accept that he cannot shut out the world forever, nor the prospect of love. As he grapples with these newfound challenges, a young woman captures the reclusive chocolatier’s eye and reawakens long-dormant memories, reminding Wonka of the true purpose that has driven his life's work - to bring joy, wonder, and a touch of magic to all who experience the fruits of his labors.

[ A Gene Wilder Wonka fic. ]

Author's Note: Welcome to my very first Willy Wonka chapter fic! I've been planning this for a full year and was finally able to get it started. A few notes before we get started: this story takes place well before the events of the film. In the prologue, Willy Wonka is 28 years old and my OC Audrey is 15. There is NO romantic interest or involvement between the two at that point. Throughout the rest of the fic after the prologue, Willy Wonka is 38 and Audrey is 25. The timeline between when Wonka closed his factory, reopened and held the golden ticket contest is a bit vague and left to interpretation & may be a bit fuzzy in comparison to the film, just for the purposes of the events of my fic. I also wanted to examine the darker aspects to Willy Wonka and the more flawed side of him, especially how it must have affected him to have been taken advantage of and nearly ruined when his recipes were stolen. Please bear with me as I begin to tell this story and understand that updates may be infrequent due to the fact that I am a working adult with lots of responsibilities. Thanks and please enjoy!

Edited.

divider created by @/saradika-graphics on Tumblr.

I had longed to touch his soul, to feel its rich, chocolatey essence, from the moment I first tasted him on my lips.

He is the embodiment of delicacy, fragile as butterfly wings – a single caress and I must lick away the guilt and sweetness, reverently tracing his wounded spirit.

Our love blossomed slowly, taking time to germinate and bloom.

I had survived without him, but the thought of a world he no longer occupied sent me spiraling, a twisted peppermint for my sickness and heartache, never quite enough to quell the nausea.

In the beginning, I counted his sugared glances, sensing they held a meaning I didn't yet understand. But if forced to be honest, I'd say I'd hardly thought of him in years.

True appreciation is born of inspiration, and perhaps he inspired me to cultivate my own imagination, to become something so pure and real that not even the loftiest dreams could keep me from reaching it.

If love this profound exists only in dreams, then dreams can indeed come true.

For all the years I waited, the hope I claimed to have lost, while secretly harboring a modern romanticism to rival Shakespeare's most devastating tragedies – good things do come to those who wait.

Endless dreams and connections await me. Yet, in this moment, I have all the time in the world.

His heart is a jawbreaker; real love is meant to be savored.

***

The chocolate factory offered a rare respite from the exhausting effort of pretending to be someone I was not. As an introverted "quiet girl" struggling to navigate a world that favored extroverted success, I felt perpetually out of place among my peers, barely keeping my head above water in social situations. Maintaining the facade of obscurity and avoiding ridicule at school was an arduous task, but what I craved were the fleeting moments when I could shed those layers and let the true me bask in the sun, unencumbered.

As I grew from adolescence into young adulthood, I was a rather timid and insecure person.

Some hid their insecurities better than others and I aspired to emulate their poise.

Despite exhibiting clear signs of insecurity, my father, a young single parent, never questioned it, as his primary focus was on providing for our family through his work.

As one of the administrative assistants at Wonka Industries, he would sometimes take me to the office on my school days off, providing a welcome escape from my daily routine.

He seemed reluctant to leave me home alone, though I didn't stop to consider if this was out of kindness or pity that I had few friends to spend time with.

Consumed by my own thoughts, I gave little consideration to the motives behind his, or anyone else’s, actions.

While other children eagerly anticipated time with friends, I instead relished the solitude.

I resented the assumption that my quietness meant I was self-absorbed or impolite.

However, I had more productive pursuits than trying to change strangers' perceptions of me. Their judgements and preconceptions about my character were not my responsibility.

Instead, I immersed myself in the worlds I built in my imagination - a passion that fueled my voracious reading and budding creative writing. Literature had long been a source of joy, and when not with a book, I would put pen to paper, spilling my thoughts onto the page to unclutter my mind.

My imagination painted colors far more vibrant than the dull hues of the real world.

At fourteen, finding fulfillment in a factory's monotony seemed peculiar, but it wasn't the bleak setting that nourished my soul - it was the people around me.

Though I was trapped in a windowless factory, surrounded by cold cement, I found fulfillment in the company of my father’s coworkers. Their warmth and camaraderie illuminated my world more brightly than even the sun could.

In my father's presence, as well as with the rest of the business staff, I felt safe and free to simply be myself without having to put on an act. Here, I could exist as the confident girl I wished I could be.

To any outsider, my life likely seemed ideal - after all, what child doesn't dream of spending a day in a chocolate factory? I got to sample the latest products, each one more incredible than the last, and I understood why my father believed so deeply in the company's success. However, I could tell that this venture distressed him, as he hoped to move on and start his own business rather than continue investing in someone else's dream.

Developing a close connection with my father gave me insight into his mindset. He was a fiercely independent man, possessing the slick tenacity of a panther ready to pounce and make the next move that would propel him to success.

Working under someone else was merely the first step - a rung on the ladder that every successful businessman had to climb before reaching the top.

It would be a bittersweet farewell, but I had a feeling that whatever came next would be just as grand, if not more so, thanks to my father's drive and ambition.

As a child, I had little control over my life; I simply had to adapt to the changes that came with a life that was not yet my own.

After closing my book, I glanced over at my father, who seemed deeply engrossed in his paperwork.

His dark eyes were hooded and ringed with purple circles of exhaustion, betraying his tireless work ethic. He toiled relentlessly, driven more by machine-like efficiency than human need, yet his exceptional output ensured his status as a highly valued Wonka employee.

As my father's pen scrawled cursive letters across the invoice form, I watched intently.

After my gaze bore into him for some time, he lifted his head and peered at me over the rims of his reading glasses. He glanced my way several more times before finally setting down his pen and addressing me.

With a teasing grin on his face, he asked, "Bored?"

I shook my head. "No."

Crossing to his desk, I leaned against the oak surface and scanned the paperwork spread out before him. The Wonka logo, emblazoned in flowing script across the header, drew my eye. "What are you working on?"

With a skeptical tone, my father replied, "Oh, just a few invoices." He then added, "Mr. Wonka has asked my department to be more prompt in sending invoices to our clients."

This response was unusual, as my father was always diligent about keeping up with invoices and the flow of money into the business. For Wonka to request more prompt invoicing suggested there may have been an issue, though I doubted the famous confectioner was hurting for cash.

My father let out a heavy sigh, his voice laden with conflict and unease.

He turned to face me, taking both my hands in his. "Darling," he began solemnly, "there's something I've been meaning to tell you."

His words were laced with palpable suspense, and I fought the urge to appear too eager to learn what he had to say. My father only shared such matters on his own terms, especially when it came to his work.

I examined his words and the pauses between them, my eyes widening subtly.

Just as he was about to continue, the phone rang, startling us and cutting our conversation short.

I cursed the caller as my father held up a finger, picked up the phone, and started talking - ending his moment of openness.

Despite my close relationship with him, there were certain matters he took very seriously.

His unwillingness to open up was frustrating, as I wanted to help him but was unsure how. I suspected financial troubles, but my father kept that information private.

I sensed an impending storm approaching rapidly and it was closing in - for every 5-second interval, it advanced 5 miles.

Time was running out.

When lightning struck, the thunderclap would follow immediately.

***

My father was on the phone for a long time.

As he spoke to the caller, I returned to my reading but found myself unable to concentrate.

The tension was cloying, creating a mental haze so dense I struggled to think clearly.

As I eavesdropped on the phone conversation, the low, gruff timbre of my father’s baritone voice conveyed a sense of concern, though the person on the other end seemed unaware of any issues at the Wonka factory.

While the conversation provided few concrete details, I trusted my instincts that something was amiss, even if snooping would yield no answers. Adults, I knew, were skilled at concealing information, but I was adept at listening between the lines.

I would have to listen closely and fill in the blanks myself if I wanted any insight into what was happening. However, my father would likely share more information with me if I just waited.

The person my father was speaking with seemed to have only business-related motives, so I didn't think I'd miss anything important by stepping out of his office for a bit.

As I exited, I was careful not to make too much noise, gently pulling the door shut behind me without letting it slam.

I strolled leisurely down the hall.

The office area of the factory had a generic, nondescript appearance.

Although I doubted Mr. Wonka would welcome an unsupervised child roaming his factory, I couldn't say for certain, as I didn't know him well.

Despite residing in the same town and occupying the same building at times, I had never personally met the elusive and enigmatic Willy Wonka. He maintained an air of mystery, much like the legendary Santa Claus or Easter Bunny. On rare occasions, I had caught glimpses of Mr. Wonka from afar, and once even exchanged a polite wave after he acknowledged my presence, but we remained virtual strangers. Understandably, with a confectionery empire to oversee, employees to manage, and an endless array of sugary wonders to invent, Wonka's time was monopolized by the demands of running his famous chocolate factory.

Despite his regular factory visits and care for his workers, Willy Wonka's abstract leadership style led to whispers about his managerial abilities. In fact, despite his reputation, Wonka lacked the business acumen to effectively direct and manage a large workforce.

Willy Wonka was a candy-making virtuoso, a true inventive genius. However, his mastery of the craft was only one piece of building a successful business. While a brilliant idea could set things in motion, it required strong leadership to fully get any concept off the ground.

Though Wonka was not a poor leader, his priorities lay elsewhere.

Willy Wonka maintained meticulous oversight of his factory, closely monitoring every aspect and detail. He effortlessly recited facts and figures, tracking the company's finances, production data, and operational logistics with unwavering precision.

Despite his keen eye for detail, it seemed unfathomable that Mr. Wonka could be involved in so many business ventures. Yet, this very improbability was the essence of the man himself - for Mr. Wonka was, in every sense, an impossibility.

Years ago, he had founded the Wonka brand and opened his own candy shop. His venture quickly became a runaway success, allowing him to establish a massive chocolate factory, hire hundreds of workers, and bring to life dozens of unprecedented candy creations that had previously existed only in his imagination. Despite the rapid growth, he maintained both a managerial and ownership role, keeping a close eye on operations across nearly all departments to keep up with surging demand.

At just 28 years old, Willy Wonka had already become a world-renowned chocolatier and founded one of the most successful companies of our era.

Indulging in a Wonka chocolate bar would unveil the secrets behind Willy Wonka's extraordinary confectionary creations and illuminate the reasons for his remarkable success.

Willy Wonka possessed an unrivaled mastery of chocolate, achieving wonders that no other human could replicate.

He was destined to become the legendary "Candy Man," just as others were born to pursue callings like teaching or public service.

I was profoundly grateful that the world recognized Willy Wonka's unparalleled genius, granting me the privileged access to savor his chocolate creations in a way that few other children could, as I stood at the very heart of the Wonka factory.

Despite never having met him personally or expressed my appreciation for his work, the public had undoubtedly made the right choice in elevating this man to fame.

I continued down the bustling hallway, passing a mix of open and closed doors on either side. Offices hummed with activity, but no one seemed to notice the lone girl wandering unattended.

Though I was strictly forbidden from going near the heavy machinery for safety and liability reasons, I doubted I was even allowed to wander on this side of the building.

Mr. Wilkinson, Mr. Wonka's personal assistant, would not hesitate to swiftly return me to my father and reprimand me if he discovered me trying to explore.

He was the sole individual I genuinely feared encountering during my attempts to get away for a short time because the embarrassment of being caught was too great.

On multiple occasions, Mr. Wilkinson had observed me leaving the bathroom and instructed me to immediately return to my father's office.

As Wonka's right-hand man and a direct extension of the enigmatic company founder's power, the older Mr. Wilkinson commanded an air of authority.

Mr. Wilkinson served as both a general manager and personal assistant.

With his imposing presence and distinctive scar, Mr. Wilkinson could have been the stuff of children's nightmares, shattering their fanciful visions of the Wonka factory.

The angular glasses perched precisely on his wide nose emphasized his stern expression and his formal, buttoned-up appearance suggested a disciplined, authoritative presence that inspired fear or at least deference in most children.

Yet, Mr. Wilkinson was surprisingly amiable.

As the saying goes, appearances can be deceiving.

I had refrained from inquiring about his scar or staring, as I did not want to be impolite, given his kindness towards me.

I sensed he strategically leveraged his imposing look when needed. By cultivating an aura of intimidation, he commanded respect, which I grudgingly admired.

Whenever I passed Mr. Wilkinson in the hall on my way to my father's office, he typically greeted me with a warm, gentle smile.

From time to time, he would offer me a piece of candy or a small chocolate, which I assumed were provided by Mr. Wonka.

Given Mr. Wilkinson's kind demeanor, I had no reason to fear him, just the consequences of my own poor decisions.

I was confident that Mr. Wonka would not employ anyone who could pose a threat to his customers or his employees.

The sense of safety I felt within the Wonka factory likely contributed to my comfort in wandering its halls.

However, I knew I shouldn’t be wandering and I felt a twinge of guilt as I disobeyed orders.

Typically, I stuck to the rules and stayed firmly within my comfort zone, but this situation felt distinctly different - almost like an out-of-body experience.

At times, I felt trapped in my own body, a captive observer as someone else clumsily operated the controls.

As I reached the end of the main hall, it branched off into two longer corridors. Pausing, I pondered which path to take, wary of getting lost and being unable to find my father's office again. However, I reasoned that if I didn't venture too far, I should be able to find my way back.

With that reassurance, I proceeded down the hallway to the left.

Despite my forward movement, my mind kept circling back to the conversation with my father that had been interrupted.

I should have stayed and waited for him to finish his call.

Weary from exhaustion brought on by that situation, I had no desire to speculate about the adults' hidden agenda.

I trusted my father would fill me in when he deemed the time appropriate. Though he wouldn't conceal the truth indefinitely, I fervently hoped the secret was benign.

As I mulled over his reluctance to speak to me, I aimlessly roamed the factory corridors, lost in silent contemplation, until I suddenly realized I had become lost...

I frowned with disappointment, for this was the exact outcome I had hoped to avoid. It was my own fault, as I had not paid close enough attention to my surroundings.

I could retrace my steps, hoping to recognize something familiar that would guide me back. Failing that, I could stop and ask for directions. After all, I couldn't possibly become permanently lost.

I paused and looked back, trying to gauge how far I had traveled. The hallways in this part of the factory were indistinguishable - standard gray walls, wood chair rail and wainscoting, and a carpeted floor.

This hallway, like many others in the factory, ended at a single door. However, this particular door stood out from the rest. While the other doors had a more corporate appearance, this one was surprisingly different.

The door's exterior was divided into eight distinct sections, similar to the segmented design of a chocolate bar, allowing it to be easily broken into sizeable rectangular pieces.

My brows furrowed in bewilderment.

What on earth possessed the designer to make this lone door look like a chocolate bar, when all the others were plain and ordinary? Was this perhaps Mr. Wonka's private office? No, that couldn't be right, for the hallway seemed completely abandoned.

The other doors were tightly shut, and a closer look revealed no light peeking out from underneath, indicating they were empty; I expected Mr. Wonka's office to be situated in a more central, populated area.

The faint scent of chocolate wafted down the hall, luring me forward.

Squinting, I made out that the door at the far end was open.

With my senses ensnared, I felt the door beckoning and I answered its call.

With each stride, I advanced further down the path.

Halting abruptly, I cast a glance to my left and squinted, not certain at first whether my eyes were betraying me.

As I had proceeded down the corridor, I unexpectedly found my gaze level with the top of the doorway.

To my surprise, I had encountered yet another anomaly.

As I scrutinized the door to my left, I was perplexed - was I growing taller or was the hallway shrinking? Somehow, this particular corridor had been designed to give the unsettling illusion that the person traversing it was increasing in size. Puzzling over this optical trickery made my head spin.

I should have simply turned around and acted as if I had never been there.

This felt like one of those moments some might mistake for divine intervention. Though naïve, I didn't blame anyone else for my decision - it was likely a poor one, as I was known to make, but I couldn’t just walk away even though it might’ve been the wisest option.

I took another step toward the open door.

Surprisingly, the usual sinister aura surrounding a bad decision, like a foul, rotten stench, was absent in this case.

Time stood frozen as my pulse thundered in my ears and my heart pounded, sending tremors through my fingers and toes. Sweat drenched my shirt, my ears burning with the strain. The slightest sound or movement threatened to send me into a panic. Laser-focused on reaching the door, I'd lost all awareness of my surroundings, oblivious to the very real danger of being caught if I lingered too long in the open.

As I approached the door, the aroma of warm chocolate, previously faint, now permeated the air, filling my senses. The strength of the scent suggested the presence of tantalizing sweets beyond the threshold.

Despite the unlikelihood that no one else knew of this location, I found myself unsure of how far I had strayed from the main offices since the silence suggested there was one else around.

Surely I couldn't have wandered too far from my father's office, and the hallways themselves couldn't have changed. I must not have been paying close enough attention to my surroundings. In the future, I would need to be more mindful, lest I find myself in a predicament from which I cannot as easily walk away from.

I was mere steps away from the tantalizing door, my curiosity and anticipation building with each stride. The prospect of uncovering the hidden treasures within had my imagination racing and my mouth watering in eager anticipation.

For years, I had longed to see the inner workings of the candy factory. My father had repeatedly promised to take me on a tour, but his busy schedule always seemed to get in the way. Caught up in one project after another, he simply couldn't find the time.

I had dreamed of witnessing the chocolate-making process firsthand, but the factory's sheer size and popularity made that unlikely. As a bustling commercial enterprise, they couldn't afford to offer free tours to every curious child when so many paying customers were eager to visit.

As I approached the door, I counted my steps - one, two, three - moving ever closer to what awaited me inside.

As I stood in the doorway, the frame was within arm's reach.

I hoped this room was not Willy Wonka’s office, as I had no right to intrude upon his private affairs, but even still I couldn’t stop myself.

As I approached the threshold, the intoxicating aroma of warm chocolate and sugar grew stronger with each step, hinting that beyond lay a veritable wonderland of confectionary delights, not a private workspace as I had initially suspected.

My fingers delicately gripped the door's edge as I craned my neck to peer into the room.

Several moments passed as I contemplated the scene before me.

The room itself seemed to hold its breath in anticipation. In the silence, I could no longer hear my own breathing as I took in the unfolding scenery.

There was no turning back now. With a deep breath, I forced my leaden feet to carry me through the parted doorway.

I stepped out onto the landing and found myself in a vast, brightly lit space. The blindingly white recessed lights in the high ceiling almost made me mistake it for an open courtyard. But the windows lining the walls, perched atop towering rock formations, betrayed the true nature of this grand chamber.

My eyes wouldn't focus because there was far too much to look at.

The sheer scale and complexity of the scene overwhelmed my senses, leaving my eyes struggling to take it all in.

For the first time since I had become a teenager, I had the feeling of being a small child again, rediscovering the world with a sense of wonder as I gazed upon the vibrant masterpiece sprawling the length of the room.

As I crossed the threshold, I left reality behind and stepped into a fantastical world. Rather than the expected whir of machinery and conveyor belts churning out sweets, I encountered something that exceeded my wildest expectations - a scene so wondrous that I couldn't even begin to describe it.

This fantastical woodland landscape, brimming with magic, madness, and mastery, was conjured into existence by the most refined and visionary of minds, who elevated a single idea into a realm of pure majesty.

A cataclysmic collision of fictional and real worlds had taken place, and the victor was clear for all to see.

From my vantage point above, I admired the mesmerizing scene unfolding before me.

Realizing I could gain an even more immersive perspective by moving closer, I decided to make my way down for a closer look.

I approached the railing and reached out a hand to steady myself. I was unwilling to tear my captivated gaze away from the enchanting garden below and didn’t want to lose my footing and tumble down.

Descending several flights of stairs, I emerged into the dazzling wonderland, a riot of colors beyond anything I could have imagined.

The air was thick with the scent of candy, making it a wonder that sugar had not crystallized on every surface.

Pausing at the bottom of the steps, I felt my eyes widen in stunned disbelief.

Though the distant décor had already seemed overwhelming, up close the sugar valley revealed an astonishing sight - everything appeared to be crafted entirely from candy!

I had stumbled upon a veritable child's paradise.

My confusion deepened since first discovering the door.

What was the purpose of all this?

The unfinished state of the setting was evident.

The sparse greenery included bare "candy-cane" trees, and what appeared to be capless mushrooms lining a riverbank. Pipes descended from the ceiling, and an incomplete dock was being built along the bank, suggesting this area was intended to hold water.

Weeping willows drooped their tendrils toward the ground, but instead of leaves, their branches bore oversized gummy bears. Fences of candy garland and jawbreaker boulders lined the area, while lollipops sprouted from the earth like vibrant flowers. This fantastical room was clearly a work in progress, a labor of love poured from the heart and built by the hands of a visionary.

“What do you think?”

The unexpected sound startled me, and I spun around, but froze when I recognized the source.

Emerging from behind a candy bush like a charismatic cryptid was the elusive, whimsical Willy Wonka, the renowned chocolate maker himself, adorned in purple and a kind smile.

Despite his friendly smile and clear blue eyes, a wave of fear and nausea washed over me as I stared at him, my eyes wide with panic. I was swimming in calm waters, yet my anxiety spiked at being caught trespassing on his property. Unsure whether to inquire about the space or apologize and excuse myself, I stammered nervously as he awaited my response.

The room was clearly Mr. Wonka's personal space, though not a typical office like anything I had ever seen before.

I feared I had committed a grave error.

He pressed his lips into a serious line as he watched my face pale with distress, then glanced over his shoulder as if he was checking to see if my reaction was because of him or something else.

Confusion knit Mr. Wonka's brows as he observed my horrified expression. "My dear, you look positively terrified. What has given you such a fright?"

I had to muster what little courage remained after making the poor decision to enter this room. My stubborn spirit always refused to back down, so I called upon it now to carry me through this mess. "I...am so sorry, Mr. Wonka. I didn't mean to barge in like this," I apologized.

I had committed the very act I knew I should not have, and I knew the consequences would soon follow. I deserved this outcome for violating someone's privacy.

With a light chuckle, the gracious smile returned to his lips as he said, "Please, call me Willy, my dear. It's quite alright."

Wonka's gentle, soothing tone began to ease the anxious grip on my heart. Surprisingly, he did not appear the least bit offended by my unsupervised arrival, even though he must have realized I had snuck away from my father to find my way here.

Wonka simply observed me, his gaze transfixed, as if mesmerized.

This first encounter with the famous chocolatier had surpassed my wildest imaginings, yet the young man before me was not at all what I had envisioned.

Though he stood several inches taller than me, his stature was otherwise unremarkable - of average height and build. Yet, it was not his physical appearance that left me impressed.

His piercing blue eyes shone like glittering jewel chips encrusted with the wisdom and mystery of a lifetime's experience. His rounded jawline and aquiline nose gave him a youthful, handsome appearance, yet his humble demeanor and polite manner suggested an old soul within.

His outfit was a whimsical, eclectic ensemble, eccentric by design. The plum-colored velvet tailcoat provided a bold splash of color, framing his body down to the knees. Complementing this was his flowery vest, a fitting accent piece that added playfulness to the look. Khaki trousers, brown dress shoes, and an oversized beige bow tie completed the ensemble, giving him the appearance of a storybook fantasy hero come to life.

The chocolate brown hat he wore did little to contain his wild, frizzy curls, which stuck out at odd angles and bounced with each movement.

The more I observed him, the less he resembled a master chocolatier and company executive.

Sensing my hesitance, he spoke again in a friendly tone.

With a casual flourish, he recited, "There are no strangers here, only friends who have not yet met."

Puzzled, I furrowed my brows, wondering where the quote came from rather than what it meant.

Amusement danced in his blue eyes as I failed to recognize the quote.

"What do you think of my chocolate room?" he asked.

Uncertain whether he intended to reprimand me for snooping, I reflexively responded to his question with another question, "What's it for?", though I hadn't meant to answer in that way.

With a casual glance around the room, he replied, "Inspiration, mostly, but only because I dare to dream." The depth of his gaze held me captive, exceeding my understanding.

Yearning for answers, I resisted the urge to question him, but I knew I could only uncover the truth by delving deeper - a challenge he seemed to anticipate.

"It's not complete yet," he continued, his words trailing off.

Crossing the grassy expanse, he paused beside the dry riverbed, gazing at it with a pensive expression. I could see the gears turning in his mind as he envisioned the space, visions dancing across his brain of the room's untapped potential, waiting to be realized with just a little more imagination.

He turned to me, his eyes sparkling with excitement. "Do you know what this is going to be?" he asked.

I shook my head.

Straining to hear, I leaned in as his voice faded to a whisper. "Chocolate," he murmured. I didn't question him, as nothing else would have made sense in that context.

His captivating charm caused my world to feel smaller the longer I stayed in his presence.

Despite my introverted nature, I surrendered to the alluring sensation, dipping a cautious toe in before fully immersing myself, as if sinking into a soothing hot bath.

A hint of a smile played on my lips as I marveled, "A chocolate river."

"And a waterfall," he said, gesturing toward the distant stone wall, "churning my chocolate. This will be the only factory in the world that will mix its chocolate by waterfall."

I let out a soft chuckle, and he tilted his head with a lopsided grin in response.

"That's rather ambitious, don't you think?"

"Aha!" he exclaimed, gesturing grandly. "My dear, I'm dreaming dreams, and the dreams I dream like pearls in the darkness gleam."

The worry and fear that had initially consumed me had now vanished.

This young confectioner was every bit as captivating as the world had made him out to be.

"So, is this the realization of your dream?" I asked, gesturing to the room.

"This room," he nodded, "is where my dreams become reality and my realities transform into dreams."

This room was a manifestation of Willy Wonka's boundless imagination, a breathtaking love letter penned by one of the greatest creative minds of our era. Each intricate detail filled me with newfound awe and respect for the sheer brilliance of his vision, leaving me in a state of wonder. Truly, every element here was a living ode to his unparalleled creativity.

Willy Wonka, a master of diverse talents and trades, had perfected the art of invention.

Wonka's inventions were utterly all-encompassing, far beyond the comprehension of my limited understanding.

"I'm at a loss for words...it’s truly beautiful."

"Thank you, miss…" Wonka said, his voice trailing off expectantly.

"Audrey," I replied, "Audrey Benedict."

"Miss Benedict," Wonka said, his smile widening as he addressed me by name.

His warm handshake caught me off guard.

"Wonderful to finally meet you, my dear," he said, suggesting he already knew who I was.

I let out a soft laugh, masking my surprise. "I can say the same about you, Mr. Wonka," I replied.

"Willy," he gently corrected me.

A soft, pink blush dusted my cheeks as I repeated, "Willy."

In this room, Wonka's boundless creativity roamed freely, dreaming up fantastical elements like the flowing chocolate river.

Wonka was an anomaly, for he didn't merely envision his fantastical dreams, but relentlessly strove to manifest them. He meticulously sifted through his imagination, unearthing every whimsical detail to breathe life into his visions.

Though I aspired to Wonka's imaginative brilliance, I lacked the ability to transform my own visions into reality except with words on a page.

"Everything in this room is edible…eatable," he said, pausing briefly to consider the proper tense. "In other words, most of what's here can be consumed. Of course, that will be the case once it is finished."

“How long have you been working on all this?”

"Too long," he replied, his tone dripping with displeasure, suggesting something was keeping him from finishing his masterpiece.

I observed as he reached towards a nearby tree, plucking off a handful of berries. Motioning to me, he indicated that I should hold out my hands. I cupped them together, and he carefully dropped five peculiar, spherical objects into my palms. These "orbs" were swirls of vibrant, multicolored hues, resembling peppermints but without any white coloring and with a perfectly round shape.

“What are they?”

He popped one of the "candy berries" into his mouth and shrugged. "Each one has notes of two different fruits - like strawberry and banana, blueberry and raspberry, or kiwi and watermelon. They're some of my favorites."

The first bite was a revelation - a burst of genuine strawberry flavor that filled my mouth, as if I had sunk my teeth into a ripe, juicy berry rather than a mere confection. But just as quickly, the strawberry notes gave way to the unmistakable taste of fresh banana, its potent essence overtaking my senses. "Oh my, that's incredible!" I exclaimed, a delighted smile spreading across my face.

Wonka watched me enjoy his candy, laughing delightedly. "Isn't it wonderful?" he asked.

"I just finished the prototype. It took months to perfect, but I think I've got it just right. I'm hoping to have these on the market in the coming months."

As I savored another piece, I was mesmerized by the illusion of eating fresh, ripe fruit.

"I hope you enjoyed the chocolate room," he began, "but I'm afraid I have some business to attend to. If you'd like, feel free to select one more item to take with you before you depart."

I expressed my gratitude, saying "Oh, thank you!" then added, "Willy."

He grinned charmingly and remarked, "You remembered."

I maneuvered around him, searching for another treat to take with me.

After some time, I sought his guidance, looking to him for any suggestions.

Though he initially remained silent, his mischievous blue eyes sparkled as they darted towards a secluded grotto brimming with delicate chocolate flowers, silently beckoning me to pluck a small bouquet. Captivated, I carefully bent down to admire the candy garden, selecting a few sweet-petaled blooms.

Blurting out the unexpected phrase "butter cups," I surprised even myself, unsure of what had compelled me to speak those words without any context. Yet, I hoped he would somehow grasp the meaning behind my random utterance.

Struggling to find the right words, I attempted to explain, "you could make…yellow flowers shaped like teacups. They could be made of chocolate or..." I trailed off, the thought slipping away.

I had never spoken so freely and openly with a stranger before, but as Wonka had said, there were no strangers here - only friends yet to meet.

Willy Wonka's harmless yet endearing eccentricity filled me with a comforting sense of wonder. As a young candymaker, his vibrant imagination inspired the entire industry, and even though I was not a confectioner myself, his creative vision bled into my own mind, prompting me to say the most peculiar things.

"Clever," he nodded thoughtfully, his mind churning as he considered the idea.

His face betrayed no emotion.

Beneath his disarming smile lay layers of mystery. Though I had many questions, I doubted he would be willing to answer them. Still, he had been surprisingly forthcoming so far.

As my time with him drew to a close, I knew I likely wouldn't get another chance to speak with him privately. I had to accept that he was simply being polite, showing me around the room where he worked and found inspiration, rather than opening up on a personal level.

I didn't feel a personal connection to him, but I intuitively grasped his perspective.

I questioned him not because I doubted his knowledge or abilities, but out of genuine curiosity to understand his perspective and process.

I was eager to learn what made him so captivating to the world, beyond what I had observed so far.

He was a grand, chaotic force - a one-of-a-kind entity clad in purple, embodying the whimsical madness of chocolate. This singular quality was precisely what made him so special and captivating.

He embraced his true self, a testament to the creativity and inventive passion that defined him.

Gripping three chocolate flowers, I stood and looked at him again. "Willy?"

He tilted his head slightly, awaiting my question. "Hm?"

"Thank you for your time. I apologize for the unexpected visit; it won't happen again."

His smile widened as he replied warmly, "You're very welcome, my dear. There's no need to apologize - you were simply curious, that's all. Now, come along, don't linger. I'll walk you back to your father, as I'm headed in that direction anyway."

He hurried towards the door, taking the steps two at a time.

Pausing on the landing, he gestured for me to exit first.

I stepped through the open door, with Wonka close behind. He shut the door, ensuring it was locked, before quickening his pace to walk beside me back towards the main office area.

I deferred to him to lead the way, as I was unsure of the proper direction. He moved with purpose, having traversed these corridors for years and committed them to memory.

"I apologize again," I said, which prompted him to chuckle.

Then, he remarked, "You really must stop apologizing. There is no need, as you have done nothing wrong."

I was confused.

Wonka had found me trespassing in one of his private rooms, after I had been wandering the factory without permission. Yet now he was telling me I had done nothing wrong.

Perhaps the rules set by my father and Mr. Wilkinson were not enforced by Wonka.

But if that were the case, why did those rules exist in the first place?

"My father's office is just down the hall to the left," I said, turning to Wonka as I now begun to recognize where we were. "I can find it from here if you need to be elsewhere."

"Nonsense, my dear," Wonka said, his pace unwavering. "I must speak with your father. He has requested a meeting with me."

Willy Wonka walked beside me, his shoulder a hands-breadth away, as we proceeded in silence down the lengthy corridor.

The absurdity of the situation did little to calm my thoughts as more and more questions arose. Yet, I remained silent, unsure how to articulate them.

Wonka was the first to break the silence as we turned another corner, heading left toward my father's office.

Through the open door, I could just barely see my father sitting at his desk, filling out reports.

"I should be the one apologizing," he said, his tone contrite. "I should have introduced myself long ago."

I couldn't hide my surprise. "Really?" I responded, puzzled as to why Willy Wonka would want to speak with me.

I opened my mouth to respond to him but was interrupted by my father.

After seeing Willy Wonka and I walking down the hall, Mr. Benedict emerged from his office and waited by the door to greet us.

"Audrey, where did you run off to?" he asked me, before turning his gaze to Wonka. "I hope she didn't get into any trouble," he added.

"Not at all," Wonka replied, shaking his head. "You've raised a very well-mannered young lady, Mr. Benedict. I was just telling Miss Audrey how honored I am to have finally had the chance to formally introduce myself."

With a stoic expression, my father replied, "Well, thank you, Mr. Wonka. We are both very appreciative," a faint smile briefly crossing his face, before his brows knit together in concern.

“I hope you have a chance to meet with me today, Mr. Wonka. There’s a situation that has just come to light – it’s about our competitors. It seems there’s some discrepancy over how our unpatented products are already being found on the market and-”

Mr. Wonka’s broad smile faltered somewhat as he cut my father’s words short to avoid inquiry on my part, "Yes, well…shall we discuss this matter in my office?" he asked.

"Very well," my father said, turning to me. "Audrey, why don't you wait in my office? Mr. Wonka and I won't be long."

As my father and Mr. Wonka continued down the hallway, I nodded and went into his office.

Just before Wonka disappeared from view, he waved at me, and I politely waved back.

Something about the situation struck me as peculiar. Wonka had seemed to imply that he had been intending to meet me for some time, which wouldn't have been unusual except for the unexpected nature of the encounter.

Despite my father occasionally bringing me to work at this expansive factory, the supervisor likely paid me little mind. After all, what interest or value could I, a young child, hold for him beyond being another spectator to his daily operations? I doubt I had anything meaningful to contribute beyond serving as an additional audience member to his lifelong work.

I was uncharacteristically skeptical, as something about the situation with Willy Wonka seemed peculiar - beyond just our previous interaction. I couldn't determine what he knew or how much of this was staged. It seemed highly unlikely that he had planned for me to wander through his factory, since he couldn't have predicted where I would go or what I would discover. Perhaps there was more to it than met the eye, or perhaps I was reading too deeply into a situation that was straightforward. In any case, I found myself unsure of the true nature of events.

I had overheard a conversation, but what did it mean? Earlier, my father had wanted to discuss something with me before I wandered off. And now, it seemed there was some complication brewing between Wonka and his competitors.

Despite my lack of knowledge, one thing was certain - Willy Wonka possessed the answers I sought.

I should have asked more questions.

#willy wonka #willy wonka and the chocolate factory #willy wonka 1971 #wilder!wonka #1971!wonka #willy wonka imagine #gene wilder #willy wonka and the chocolate factory imagine #willy wonka x oc #biblio :: 📖

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hpsugarfest · 11 months ago

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🍧 Sugarfest Masterlist!

Introducing the masterlist for Sugarfest, a compilation of written works and art dedicated to the underappreciated sugar daddy, Harry Potter.

Whether he's charming his partners with actual sugar or indulging them with gold, jewelry, and lavish gifts, he remains the caring and generous character that we all know and love.

See below the cut for all of our incredible entries!

🌃 A Sky Full of Stars by moontear E | Harry Potter/Tom Riddle | 17,629 words | Complete Tags: Underage, Sugar Baby Tom Riddle, Yule Ball, Age Difference, second-year Tom Riddle, Auror Harry Potter, Sugar Daddy Harry Potter, Manipulative Tom Riddle, Tom Steals a Crush to Prevent a Murder, Harry Potter is the Sexiest Man of the Year Every Year Summary: It is a universal truth that only fourth-years and older are allowed to go to the Yule Ball. Tom intends to break this rule, and he intends to do so by having the famous Head Auror Harry Potter escort him there on his arm.

🎼 A Song to Savor by Soulseeker (Laserswordtraining) E | Harry Potter/Tom Riddle | Voldemort | 23,411 words | Complete Tags: Sirens, Magizoologist Harry Potter, Tom Riddle is Not Voldemort, Hurt/Comfort, Choking, Anal Fingering, Blow Jobs, Anal Sex, Spanking, Rimming, Praise Kink, Begging, Sugar Daddy Harry Potter, Demisexuality, Fluff and Smut Summary: Sugar daddy Harry Potter is a Magizoologist studying allure, and Tom is a siren who hates his sirensong, will hardly use it to feed, but needs help taking his human form; he’ll need Harry’s physical touch to build the skill. They strike a deal. Both soft, both falling in love, both oblivious to the others' feelings.

🍽 After All This Time by solavonn T | Harry Potter/Tom Riddle | Voldemort | Art | Complete Tags: Fanart, Digital Art, Sugar Daddy Harry Potter, Age Difference, Humor Summary: While having lunch with Draco and Pansy, Tom comes to a startling realization about his relationship with a certain Lord Potter.

🐲 (ART) the implicating scale by queasy E | Harry Potter/Tom Riddle | Voldemort | Art | Complete Tags: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, NSFW Art, Art Summary: Marine Biologist, Harry Potter, has bitten more than he can chew when asking the mysterious sea siren, Tom, for one of his shiny scales.

🧵 at the seams by TheOnceandFutureQueenofTarts T | Harry Potter/Tom Riddle | Voldemort | 3,651 words | Complete Tags: Alternate Universe - Non-Magical, Sugar Daddy Harry Potter, Sugar Baby Tom Riddle, Harry Potter is Obsessed with Tom Riddle, Tailor Harry Potter, Yandere Harry Potter (just a bit), Twisted and Fluffy Feelings, Sugar Mama Hepzibah Smith, Infidelity, Domestic Fluff, Uni student Tom Riddle Summary: Harry's a quietly successful tailor. His shop sells his ready-to-wear designs, but his true specialty is bespoke pieces — that he only makes for the most beautiful people. Enter Tom Riddle, starving uni student and the most gorgeous person Harry's ever laid eyes on.

😈 Better to Reign in Hell by crowthing E | Harry Potter/Tom Riddle | Voldemort | 7,285 words | Complete Tags: Sugar Daddy Harry Potter, First Time, Demon/Human Relationships, Tom Gets Everything He Wants, Size Difference, Age Difference, Sugar Baby Tom Riddle, Tom Riddle Goes to Hell Summary: Tom is determined to become immortal. Giving his virginity to a demon seems like the simplest solution.

🥂 champagne shimmer by eleven_eaves E | Harry Potter/Tom Riddle | 18,573 words | WIP Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Age Difference, Teacher-Student Relationship, Sugar Daddy Harry Potter, Professor Harry Potter, Sugar Baby Tom Riddle, Female Tom Riddle, Gift Giving, Sex Work Summary: Tom has one of the most popular accounts on OnlyFans. Harry, who is Tom’s uni professor, stumbles onto Tom’s stream by accident. Featuring: Spoiled brat Tom, and Harry trying to be as much of a gentleman as he can despite lusting after his barely-legal student.

🍭 (Death is) Sweet Like Candy by TrinisetteArcobaleno E | Harry Potter/Tom Riddle | 2,783 words | WIP Tags: Sugar Daddy Harry Potter, Crack Treated Seriously, Dimension Travel, Master of Death Harry Potter, Suicidal Harry Potter, Alternate Universe - Candy Shop, Obsessive Tom Riddle Summary: Budding Dark Lord Tom Riddle is currently working at a Candy Shop to keep a low profile while also being able to gather information easily. Enter Harry Potter, who is the Master of Death. After years of searching for a way to finally allow himself to die, he realized that only Voldemort could kill him, as foretold by the prophecy that ruined his life when he was still mortal. Traveling to another dimension and getting that Tom Riddle shouldn't be that hard, right? He'll do anything to be reunited with his loved ones.

🎩 Golden Ticket by KagariAsuha M | Harry Potter/Tom Riddle | Voldemort | 1,987 words | WIP Tags: Alternate Universe, Inspired by Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, POV Tom Riddle, Obsessive Harry Potter, Sugar Daddy Harry Potter, Whimsy, Dark Comedy Summary: Harry Potter has opened up his world famous chocolate factory for the first time in years, and only a few lucky winners get to take a tour. Tom Riddle made sure he was one of them.

💝 Harry's love language by x_manga_Bleach_x T | Harry Potter/Colin Creevey | 1,841 words | Complete Tags: Post-War, Colin Creevey Lives, Sugar Daddy Harry Potter, Not Canon Compliant, Fluff, Lingerie, Betaed, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE Summary: It started like this: Harry needed a plus-one to escort him to some Ministry events and Colin needed financial help to pay for his Photojournalism school. Somehow, it morphed from a simple arrangement to a full-blown relationship.

👑 In the vault [Art] by chiocchi G | Harry Potter/Tom Riddle | Art | Complete Tags: Art, Digital Art, Age Difference, Sugar Daddy Harry Potter, Alternate Universe - Sugar Daddy Summary: Tom Riddle's first visit to the Potters' Gringotts vault.

🍵 no sugar in my tea (you are sweet enough) by souein M | Harry Potter/Tom Riddle | 53,893 words | Complete Tags: Alternate Universe - Muggle, Age Changes, Sugar Daddy Harry Potter, Good Tom Riddle, Past Child Abuse, Insecurity, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Alcohol, Promiscuity, Past Relationship(s), Bisexual Harry Potter, Demisexual Tom Riddle, First Dates, First Kiss, First Time, Angst with a Happy Ending Summary: At age eighteen, Harry came into an inheritance left from his late parents. No longer a freak, he had a very big number in his bank account now. But just as big was his heart. It seemed only natural to show love with generosity, as money was no issue to him. For others though, it was. With each failed relationship Harry felt more and more miserable. It's not like he ever wished to be wealthy. All he ever really wanted was to be accepted and loved.

🔥 sugar addiction by riddikulus_puff E | Harry Potter/Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy | 2,933 words | Complete Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Sugar Daddy Harry Potter, Sugar Baby Draco Malfoy, Sugar Baby Hermione Granger, Threesome - F/M/M, Webcam/Video Chat Sex, Sex Cam Worker Hermione Granger, Sex Cam Worker Draco Malfoy, Older Harry Potter Summary: Harry Potter is a dedicated and highly loyal fan of Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy’s joint cam shows and live shows. The two younger wizards finally open up their bookings for personal shows, and Harry trips over himself for a number one spot. Would these two wonderful younger lovers be the ones to finally force the number-one famous bachelor to properly settle down?

💌 wake-up call by TheOnceandFutureQueenofTarts E | Harry Potter/Tom Riddle | Voldemort | 6,005 words | Complete Tags: Alternate Universe - Muggle, Reluctant Sugar Daddy Harry Potter, Tom Riddle is Not Voldemort, Ages are all over the place, 5+1 Things Summary: Harry signs up for SweetMeet, a sugar daddy/baby matchmaker. It doesn't go very well. Thankfully, his personal representative, Tom, is there to help. (Five times Harry tries to meet a sugar baby for him, and one time he doesn't try but finds one anyway.)

💸 You Can Call Me Daddy by Shewhxmustnxtbenamed E | Harry Potter & Draco Malfoy | 37,110 words | Complete Tags: Alternate Universe - Muggle, Muggle London, Sugar Baby Draco Malfoy, Sugar Daddy Harry Potter, Good Draco Malfoy, POV Draco Malfoy, Pining Draco Malfoy, Gay Draco Malfoy, Draco Malfoy & Harry Potter Friendship, Draco Malfoy is Bad at Feelings, Gay Sex, Anal Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Sex in a Car Summary: By chance, Harry finds Draco at a male strip club where he is working to scrape by on the bare minimum. Harry is immediately taken with him, his protective nature coming out, and he wants to give Draco everything that he needs. Draco has a difficult time accepting Harry's gifts and well-intentioned nature, but will he be able to let loose a little in order to gain a better life?

#harry potter #fest masterlist #masterlist #fic #fanfic #hp fandom #hp fanfic #hp fests #hp fest #harry james potter #sugar daddy harry potter #hpsugarfest

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