#speaker specs

[web-novel-polls]

Do submissions need to be canon or are headcanons ok too?

Canon is a lie. Headcanons are not only encouraged but REQUIRED /joking

Serious Answer: Yeah, they're good. If it's for the Baihe Character Tournament, I may run a poll depending on the character, but the Aroace-spec Character Tournament is free reign. There's nothing to lose but our shackles, Anon

[watthifi]

How to Set Up Wharfedale Evo 4.4 for the Best Sound Quality?

Get the best sound from your Wharfedale Evo 4.4 with our expert setup guide. Explore specs, reviews, pricing, and pro tips for optimal audio performance.

[zeroloop]

Scopri i Migliori Altoparlanti con LED RGB Creative Pebble SE: Qualità e Design al Giusto Prezzo

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[androidaddictsx]

Fossibot F101 Pro Rugged Phone Review (Rear Screen, Camera, Gaming)

The F101 Pro is the latest Rugged phone from Fossibot which boasts a rear display and 10,600mAh battery - all for a very cheap price! Is this phone for you? Let's find out!

The F101 Pro is the latest Rugged phone from Fossibot which boasts a rear display and 10,600mAh battery – all for a very cheap price! Is this phone for you? Let’s find out! Fossibot F101 Pro official website: https://bit.ly/3SOMrFHBuy the Fossibot F101 Pro Aliexpress (affiliate link):https://s.click.aliexpress.com/e/_oowoIQJ 00:00 Intro00:28 Unboxing01:13 Specifications03:04 Pre-installed…

[rcmclachlan]

wind finding

buck/tommy

8x14/8x15 spec fic

I wrote this right before my first morning meeting, so if it's rushed and makes no sense, I'm well aware. Enjoy!

+

The very second Tommy went with helicopters, people came crawling out of the woodwork to offer their two cents on everything from industry politics (all dangled carrots and empty promises) to what constitutes a good operator (whoever's actually signing your paycheck at the time) to which jobs would bring in the most money (ditching helicopters entirely in favor of planes) to the best ways to manage stress (avoiding utility altogether).

But the one piece of advice Tommy has never forgotten came from one of his first operators in Afghanistan, who had a face like a mountain crag and every word that came out of his mouth had to first find its way around the wad of dip permanently attached to his bottom gums.

"Being able to find the wind is the only skill you need to nail down, or else you're gonna frag out faster'n you can say 'high as bat pussy'. The odds of being able to see the leaves on a fuckin' tree are less'n nothin' out here, never mind spottin' a fuckin' windsock, Kinard. The second you get in the air, you just listen to your bird; she'll tell you point blank where the wind is, so long as you've got your ears on."

Then Warrant Officer Harold hocked a loogie the size of a crow at the ground and stormed away, shouting, "PRIVATE KEATON, IF YOU DON'T STOP FONDLIN' THAT REFUEL PROBE I'M GONNA SHOVE IT IN YOUR DICK HOLE!"

Twenty years later, Tommy's in the cockpit of his favorite AW139 with the mouth of a glock pressed right above his brain stem, and the second he achieves optimal altitude, he finds the wind.

"You make it look so effortless, like it's just something your body does. Like breathing," Evan had said during their one and only legal flight together, like he wasn't furious that Tommy had woken him up at 3:30 in the morning on his day off to go for a joyride. Even as the sun peeked over the horizon to see if the coast was clear, it couldn't hope to match the sheer brightness of Evan's smile.

If being able to find the wind wasn't practically part of his autonomic nervous system at this point in his career, Tommy'd have no business being in the air at all.

"Remember," the guy with the gun, Remo, murmurs into the headset he'd forced Tommy to give him. "Top of the Aon. We're making the switch there."

"Nakatomi Tower would be better for this sort of thing," Tommy mutters.

Instead of being whipped with the gun, the speaker in his ear crackles with Remo's laughter. "I was more partial to the second film."

Tommy grips the cyclic a little tighter. "That's the worst thing you've admitted to so far."

It's not. Bombing multiple police stations was bad enough, but one of them was right next to a school. The last thing that came through the comms before Remo's buddies hacked it was the 118 being called to 309 Lucas Ave in Westlake North for fire containment and emergency medical assistance.

He glances at the dashboard. Tucked right above the radar is a little photo he'd printed out at his local CVS on a whim while he was getting a 'Happy 80th birthday, grandma!" card for Sal. It's barely anything: a portrait forced to inhabit a 4x4 square, so the quality is extra shitty. But the man in it is smiling brighter than a sunrise over the ocean, and Tommy's heart gives a pitiful thud just looking at it.

Melton would've shit a brick if he'd known about it. Despite what Hollywood would have the general populace believe, having pictures of loved ones on a pilot's dashboard can be a hell of a distraction. It goes against LAFD regs.

But having spent the last month reacquainting himself with Evan's smile and the wild hope that they could have a future together, it felt right to tack the photo up. He was professional enough that he wouldn't let it get in the way of the job.

He thinks of Evan watching him from the bed this morning, tangled up in sheets that smelled like the both of them. He thinks of the blurred, sleep-damp smile on Evan's face as Tommy hid the evidence of what they got up to the previous night.

"You're covering up a masterpiece," Evan had said, voice a little blurred with sleep. "That's some of my best work."

"Let me guess: if I connect all the hickeys, it's gonna turn into a dolphin or something?"

Evan had thrown back his head on the pillow and cackled, and Tommy had thought, We could build a life on this.

Except Evan is pulling tiny bodies out of the ruins of Gratts Elementary, Tommy's got a gun to his head, and Remo's little cell of opportunistic assholes are using the bombings across the city to distract from the 51% blockchain hack they pulled off two hours ago. Tommy doesn't understand crypto for the life of him, but what he got from Harbor's newest probie was something something a blockchain’s distributed ledger was changed and double spending was enabled. At the time, it seemed like a lot of bullshit that boiled down to "they now control the invisible internet money conveyor belt," but at least 200 people are dead, and according to Remo, there are still 70 bombs wired and ready to explode on his say-so.

Unless Tommy flies him and his weird, silent friend to the Aon, where someone's going to be waiting to whisk them away to all points nowhere. Tommy knows exactly how this is going to shake out: the second he lands the bird, Remo's going to bury a bullet in Tommy's brain before disappearing into the wind, leaving the world in shambles. But it won't be enough. Remo will get bored before long—the smart, psychotic ones always do—and then pop back up at some point to do even worse if he has the opportunity.

Ten years from now, they'll make a documentary series about all this. Evan will watch it, because he's contractually obligated to seek out things that will hurt him for some reason, and it'll probably be like cutting open a just-healed wound. He'll spiral until Maddie or one of the others forces him to stop. The series will be called something stupid, like Finding Remo.

That is, of course, if Remo has the opportunity.

Swallowing, throat clicking, Tommy glances at the photo on the dashboard. Evan beams at him from where he's posing like the dorkiest Greek god in the pantheon on top of a boulder somewhere on the Temescal Canyon Trail. That had been a good day. It seemed like the start of a lifetime of them.

He looks away and out the windshield where, up ahead, the Aon stands tall against the sky. But standing taller, and closer, is Library Tower.

Exhaling, Tommy keeps his eyes straight. "Listen, you can put the gun away. It's not the threat you think it is."

"No?" Remo presses the glock harder against the back of Tommy's head, and Tommy stifles a wince. "You think I won't shoot you?"

"Oh, I know you're gonna shoot me," Tommy says, almost cheerfully. He refuses to look any closer at that. "I just don't think you're gonna do it while we're hanging 900 feet above the city."

The pause that follows is probably only a second or two, but it feels like a decade. Finally, the press of metal disappears, and Tommy hears the safety clicking back on.

"You seem pretty calm about all this," Remo says, curiosity making his already light voice positively airy.

Tommy shrugs. "Last year I stole one of these to fly some friends into a category 5 hurricane, then landed it on a capsized cruise ship. This? Doesn't even break a 6.5 on my Crazy Shit-o-meter."

Remo laughs, and Tommy hears the tell tale rustling of the gun being holstered. Thankfully the rotors completely drown out the sound of his heart pounding, which would otherwise be audible from space.

"Let me just say that of all the pilots I could've kidnapped, you're by far the most entertaining."

"Thank you," Tommy says seriously.

Below them, the Walt Disney Concert Hall is lit up for the night's show. They'll be passing the BoA Financial Center, and from there it's only a couple of minutes until their destination.

"Hey, uh, since this does end with me getting shot," Tommy ventures, trying to keep a lid on the massive amounts of adrenaline that are being dumped into his bloodstream. He must be visibly vibrating. "Could I... could I make a call?"

Remo snorts. "Let me guess: 9-1-1?"

Okay, that's kind of funny. Tommy cracks a grin. "Not quite. I have someone... I have someone, and there's something important I need to say."

One of the drawbacks of a helicopter's cockpit is there's no rearview mirror, which would really come in handy right now. He has no idea what Remo's face is doing. He has no idea if he's looking at his silent companion and having some kind of wordless conversation, if Remo is the kind of guy who would grant the last wish of someone he's using.

Finally, after what feels like years, Remo says, "You get ten seconds. You'd better make them count."

He's done more with less. "That's fair. But I'm either going to need you to call it for me or let me hook into an open line."

The air inside the helicopter seems to squeeze inward. "An open line?"

"My... my boyfriend's LAFD." He bites down on the inside of his cheek as they pass the BoA Center on the left, and hopes against all hope that Remo isn't too much of a homophobe to deny the request.

But surprise, surprise. Remo only laughs and says, "How romantic. Urs, get him on an open line to his firefighter boyfriend. It's the least we can do after everything he's done to help us."

Tommy can't see what Urs is doing, but his headset crackles with the familiar static of a live comms line.

"Ten seconds," Remo reminds him. Below them, the roof of Library Tower seems both miles away and impossibly close.

It's all he needs.

"This is LAFD pilot Tom Kinard. Evan Buckley, if you're listening, look in the drawer to the right of the microwave. There's something in there for you." He quietly undoes his harness and kills the engine. "It's yours. It's always been yours."

Just as the AW139 is about to clear the roof of the tower, Tommy shoulders open the door and kicks off into the sky.

The wind is blowing southeast.

+

"N-No, no, no, hey, it's okay, don't fight it, you're okay—hey, I need some help in here! He's waking up! Tommy, they're going to take it out, just wait."

There's a tree trunk growing out of his throat, but trying to move it is impossible, and the effort takes everything out of him. So he gives up, gagging and drifting in and out, then decides to just climb the entire length of the tree to get a look at the view. From there, it's just a matter of finding the wind and floating away with it.

The next time he surfaces, there's something hard over his face, warm and humid, and when the clouds clear from his vision he's able to see two things: Evan's wide-eyed expression of relief, and a giant orange poster board in Lucy's familiar, blocky handwriting that says 2 DAYS SINCE KINARD LAST TAUNTED GOD.

There's a 1 in front of the 2, but it's crossed out.

"Hey!" Evan breathes, and the mattress at Tommy's hip dips a little under his weight. "H-Hey, there you are. Morning! Well, not, uh, morning exactly—it's like 8 o'clock at night—but you're awake!"

"I am." It's muffled by the oxygen mask.

"How are you feeling? Are you in any pain?" Evan leans in, blocking Tommy's view of anything else. He hasn't shaved in a bit, and the hair at his temples looks a little greasy. He's the most gorgeous thing Tommy's ever laid eyes on.

"No pain," Tommy rasps. "M'body's full'f cotton."

Evan smiles a little. "Yeah, they've got you on the good stuff. I can't tell you how many bones you've broken, because it seems like they're still finding them. The doctor did say he'd never seen a pneumothorax quite like yours before, though. He keeps bringing other doctors in to look at your scans. I think a couple of them cancelled their surgeries so they could watch yours yesterday. You're like a celebrity. You've got, like, four tubes in you sucking the excess air out."

For a second, Tommy has no idea what he's talking about. Pneumothorax? How'd he manage that? Lucy's gonna give him shit for the next year.

Then, like a breeze kicking up from the west, it all comes sweeping in. Something starts beeping a little erratically. "Did—did he... he didn't... did... R-Remo...?"

The words are slow and thick, like they have to climb over the broken branches the tree had left behind, but understanding lights up Evan's face almost immediately. He thinks Evan must be holding his hand, because there's pressure on his fingers that feels like it's coming from another room.

"He didn't," Evan says softly, but there's a sparkle of brutal satisfaction in his eyes that Tommy can't look away from. "The helicopter went down like a sack of bricks after you ditched it. It took out the coffee shop in the library. Before you ask: they close at 2:30, so no one had been in there for hours. No one was hurt. Except, well, what's his name."

Tommy closes his eyes and breathes in the canned, almost metallic stuff they're feeding him through the mask. It's so pure, it makes him a little dizzy.

"Good." His sinuses prickle hotly. "Good. That's..."

"Hey, hey, shhh," Evan coos, and Tommy opens his eyes just in time to see Evan press his mouth lushly to the curve of the oxygen mask. Despite whatever they're giving him, Tommy's lips ache with the need to feel that kiss.

"Evan," he whispers.

When he pulls back, Evan's got a wide, almost gleeful grin tugging the corners of his mouth to his ears. He looks like he's about to blow up a Gotham City school bus to try and draw out Batman. Instead, he lifts his left hand.

The lights in the room are low, so the ring on Evan's finger doesn't really glint as brightly as it should, but the light in Evan's eyes is almost blinding.

"Drawer to the right of the microwave, huh?" He laughs a little, like it's bubbling out of him, like he can't stop it. "How long had that been in there?"

It takes a moment for Tommy to pick through the cobwebs in his brain. "Mm... got it... after we did that flight over... hm... Channel Islands."

Evan stares at him, then his bubbly laughter morphs into maniacal cackling.

Tommy glances down at his hands to see if they gave him a button for the pain meds he's on. He's going to dilaudid himself into oblivion.

"That was four months into..." Evan uses their joined hands to wipe away the tears beading on his lashes. "When I asked you to move in, you ran away so fast you left a trail of dust behind you. But you bought an engagement ring four months into dating me?"

"In my defense," Tommy says, suddenly very jealous of Remo for dying a fiery death in the LA Library coffee shop. "I knew... you were it for me. You, on the other hand, had no idea... hm... what you wanted. Asking me... to move in wasn't—it wasn't about me."

Pursing his lips, Evan ducks his head and doesn't deny it, but when he tilts his chin up, the only thing on his face is bare, earnest truth. "I knew I wanted you, Tommy, any way I could have you. I didn't know what that looked like, and not knowing made me... I don't know if you've noticed, but I tend to cling when I panic."

Tommy thinks back over the last month—how every time he showed up on Eddie's doorstep, Evan practically threw himself at Tommy, clutching at him like he was afraid Tommy might go back down the walkway and leave; how getting up to take a piss or grab a Gatorade meant leaving the bed, and the look on Evan's face every time was like watching a car crash—and squeezes Evan's hand. He thinks he does, at least.

"Do you... know what it looks like now?" It takes almost all his strength to get the words out. A wave of exhaustion rolls over him, and he pinwheels a little with it. Kicking his way back to the surface takes concentration.

Evan lifts his hand again. The ring fits his finger perfectly. "It looks like you, about to fall asleep."

Another wave bowls him over, and he fights to keep his eyes open. Lucy's stupid poster blurs like someone's upturned a can of Sprite over it.

"I'll be here when you wake up, and so will half the LAPD and a bunch of people from the FBI. You're the hero of the day," Evan murmurs, and Tommy grumbles a little. "But, hey, Tommy. Before you—how did you know? How'd you know I was it for you?"

Even as he's being pulled down into the dark, he looks up, and he sees the surface roiling, dancing with the light of an old sunrise that couldn't hold a candle to the phenomenon of Evan Buckley's smile.

"Found th' wind," Tommy mumbles, drifting down, down, down. "'s easy. Like breathing."

[dovveri]

high fashion fashion

synopsis: you’re meeting with the top fashion designer in the country to get your measurements taken for haute couture: an exclusive, annual fashion magazine you had the luck to be chosen for

warnings: reader receiving, cunnilingus, fingering, strap-ons, swearing

w/c: 4.4k

a/n: momo part 2 here!

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

"miss minatozaki! the model is here to see you as requested!"

you shuffle around a little awkwardly as you stand behind the agent that had led you to the infamous fashion designer's lair. you were still a new name in the modelling industry so it came as a surprise when you booked one of the biggest fashion magazines in the country. naturally, that meant working with the best of the best, and minatozaki sana was the best of the best.

"come in!" a voice drifts out, it's high-pitched and honeyed, the kind of voice that lures people in and gets them to do whatever the speaker asks of them. you were cautious though, sana's reputation preceded her. tales of her perfectionism were not sparse, she was a difficult woman to please, and had been known to ruin careers with the shake of a head or the slight frown in her eyebrows.

the agent rushes you in, whispering about making sure you did whatever sana wanted you to do, and then taking their leave just as quick, terrified to be in the same room as the fashion designer of the century.

you wring your hands nervously, stepping forward and taking in your surroundings. it wasn't unlike any other studio you've been in. messy fabrics and half-completed outfits strewn over pages of designs and measurements, mannequins standing half-dressed and lifeless, and in the centre of it all, the mastermind of the methodical chaos you stood in, was minatozaki sana herself.

she tuts, making a note on the design she was currently working on, not having acknowledged your presence yet, so you stand there awkwardly, waiting for her to instruct you.

your eyes can't help but trace over her features while she works. it was only natural, you were a model, you learnt to have a sharp eye for the physical body, to be critical of yourself and others whether you were on the clock or not.

her face was perfect. she was wearing specs that perched neatly on a nose other models would pay for. her lips, although currently downturned in a frown as she perused her work, were set in a natural pout that accentuated her features, her eyes sharp and calculating behind the soft, round frame of her glasses. you could mistake her for the model for a big-brand eyewear company. your eyes glide down to her shoulder where her top slid down revealing pearly soft skin, and a sharp 90 degree angle, her collarbones protruding and proud. you're almost in disbelief at her beauty, how someone like her could've slipped under your radar, under everyone's radar. people knew her for the beauty she created, not the beauty she possessed.

you're so caught up in her you don't notice she's finally taken notice of you; quick, assertive eyes running over your own body, calculations and images of clothing pieces already forming in her head.

"y/n right?"

your eyes flick up to hers, blushing slightly at having been caught. you clear your throat, nodding, not trusting your voice to speak.

she puts down her pencil and steps out from the desk she was working behind, taking slow steps towards you. you were used to this, people staring at you, studying you. but under sana's gaze you felt like a baby deer again, like the first time you were scouted for your modelling agency. she circles you, humming here and there as she takes you in.

"i can see why mina chose you."

you cough awkwardly, "excuse me?"

"the editor. she handpicks the models for the annual haute couture magazine every year."

your eyes widen, she meant myoui mina. chief editor of the haute couture magazine. a limited fashion piece that only came out once a year and was revered by critics all across the country. the one you had the opportune luck to be selected for.

"r-right."

sana scoffs, "pretty face but can't speak. lucky you didn't go into acting."

you're a little taken aback at that, but you remind yourself this was characteristic of sana. this was in line with what you had heard. you would just have to grit your teeth and bear it, you could not afford to lose this opportunity.

"hmm. yes you'll do." she walks back to her work counter, heels clicking as she waves a hand dismissively.

"strip. everything. i'll take your measurements now and we can both get back to work."

you stutter, following after her, "d-don't you already have my measurements?"

she turns suddenly, raising an eyebrow as you almost crash into her. you realise she's a little shorter than you, though her presence made it seem she towered over you. "is there a problem?"

you blush, trying to create some distance between the two of you, "n-no ma'am! i just thought-"

"i like to take my own measurements. i don't trust the ones they sent me. after all..." she raises a hand, a manicured nail coming to trace your throat, from the middle of your neck to the tip of your chin. you hold your breath. "the notes didn't mention how devastatingly exquisite you are. i'll need to see if the rest of the... hardware matches that pretty face of yours." there's a dangerous glint in her eye, her lips curling up into a smirk as she watches your breath catch, then she's turning away and striding towards another work desk, leaving you tripping after yourself to follow her.

she quickly makes space on the counter, pushing aside sheets of drawings and pulling out a fresh new page devoid of any markings.

"well? are you shy or something? no one is allowed in here without my permission. we're alone darling don't worry." you can hear the teasing lilt in her voice, she doesn't need to turn away from her work for you to picture the smirk on her face.

you quickly rid yourself of your clothing, shivering a little in the air-conditioned workshop, reminding yourself that this was nothing out of the ordinary, you had been laid bare in front of beautiful women and men before, sana shouldn't be any different.

you hesitate when you reach your bra, but sana could smell your uncertainty.

"i said everything."

you gulped, undoing the clasp and sliding the straps off your shoulders, nipples hardening under the cool air of the room. you bend down to slide off your panties, stepping out of them carefully before coming back up, suddenly face to face with sana who's eyeing you with a hunger akin to the one of lioness. you turn to place your underwear with all your other clothes, but knowing sana was watching your every step lit a little fire in your lower stomach.

your toes clench on the cool tile of the workshop, you force yourself to take a breath before turning back to sana, and then letting her circle you again like her prey.

you almost jump when you feel her fingertip on your naked back, holding back sounds your mouth certainly shouldn't be making at work.

her finger slowly, slowly traces downwards, sana admires the smooth planes of your back, the sharp bones that jut out at your wingspan, the curve of your spine before pushing back out to your ass.

you don't even realise you're holding your breath until she pushes down slightly at the small of your back and you gasp.

then sana giggles. "cute."

her hand never leaves your body, she walks back around to face you, fingers tracing your arms, then your sides, squeezing teasingly at your hips.

"hmm... yes i can definitely work with this." her voice is lower, and you can't help but think she may be a little affected by you too.

she steps away again, grabbing a measuring tape, "you wouldn't mind doing a couple poses for me would you darling? i need to see which fabric would work best when you move around and sit or get into whatever other absurd positions momo might get you in when you take the photos."

you shake your head, irritated at the blush that was now definitely apparent on your cheeks. you were better than this, you took lessons on how to school your expression and bodily reactions for when you were forced into uncomfortable clothes and outfits.

sana nods towards a stool nearby, "just take a seat there, sit however's comfortable for now."

you follow her instructions almost robotically, wincing a little at the chill of the metal stool against the skin of your ass. you cross your legs, willing the arousal that was leisurely dripping out of you to stop before sana found out and fired you for being unprofessional.

she watches you wriggle around on the stool, trying to get comfortable with a smirk, treading forward when you're finally still. you try to look straight ahead, avoiding her gaze, but she cups your cheek lightly, forcing you to look up at her. she tilts your head from side to side, hums, then grabs the measuring tape and steps behind you, measuring your shoulder span.

"relax sweetheart, i can feel the tension in your muscles."

you let out a shaky breath, still refusing to speak.

"nervous?"

you shrug.

"you've done this before haven't you?"

you nod.

"are you not speaking because of the comment i made earlier? i didn't mean it y'know. it's not the first time i've rendered someone speechless before."

you gulp, unsure of the implications of her words, "r-right."

she giggles again, "almost thought i'd have to make you scream for me."

"w-what?!"

she hums, moving backwards again and ignoring your question, "lie down over there would you? on your front. if i know momo i know she loves her horizontal shots."

you shakily get up, moving to the mattress on the floor and laying down cautiously, feeling sana right on your heels.

it would be harder to hide your slick in this position, but you clenched your thighs together and did your best. the cool material of the sheets on the mattress brush across your already sensitive nipples in this state, and you fight the urge to let go and just go wild under sana's watchful gaze.

she hovers above you, noting down every twitch of your body, every arch, curve, bend. there's some rustling behind you but you keep focused on resisting your dirtier thoughts. that is until sana sits on top of your thighs.

you gasp at the feeling of her weight on top of you, right below your ass, "u-um-"

"i said to relax darling. i need to see how you'll feel when you're in this position." her excuses were getting sloppier.

"y-you do?"

"are you questioning me?"

"n-no! i'm sorry- please- um- please continue."

"good girl."

you feel your ears burning now as well, the blush having travelled across your cheeks and up. even you knew there was something other than fashion fitting going on here with that comment. but you still let her hands run over your back, even as they tease dangerously lower, down to your hips.

sana coughs, shuffling around, but her shuffling around was really her pushing her body up against your ass, essentially riding the back of your thighs. you can't help but release a choked-out moan, fingers digging into the skin of your forearms where you're resting your head, breaths coming in and out heavier.

she stops, smirking, then does it again, rocking forwards, eyes twinkling when you give her the exact same reaction, unable to control yourself.

"miss m-minatozaki-"

"just sana for you darling."

"... s-sana-"

"hmm?" she leans down, rocking forwards again, delighting in the moan you release, humming right next to your ear, her body laid almost completely on top of you.

"is this- is this still- are you still taking my measurements?"

she chuckles lowly, "what do you think?"

you whine, completely unsure what this devil of a woman wanted from you, "y-yes?"

"then why are you asking?" she giggles, finally letting you go, standing back up. "now, the couch please."

you inhale greedily, pushing yourself back up and wobbling over to the couch. your legs almost give out when you sit down, sinking into the material, and looking at anywhere but sana.

you're about to cross your legs again when she tuts, "ah ah. spread them."

your eyes widen, "b-but-!"

"but what? you already showed me a pose with your legs crossed, now i'll need to see one spread. surely you've seen it's a very classic pose? one of the outfits i'll have to design include pants and momo will definitely make you do this pose in them."

with nothing else to retort, you shyly spread your legs, the urge to cover yourself is overbearing. you wait for sana to say something, anything, prepared for your career to end here and now. you were so close to the big leagues too.

"run a hand through that pretty hair will you darling? elbow up."

you blink, doing as she says, dumbfounded as she steps closer, completely disregarding the obvious signs of lust at your core.

those hands come out again, one at your thigh, the other tracing down the tricep of the arm you have lifted above your head. with nowhere else to go, your arousal leaks outward, pussy drenched and needy as you hold your breath.

the hand that's at your thigh inches upwards, the one at your tricep downwards to cup your face again, thumb brushing over your lips that open just barely enough for her to fit her fingernail inside.

she can feel your shaky breaths on her thumb, can hear the whimper you let out when the hand at your thigh continues to trace up and down, closer and closer to your heat.

"s-sana..."

"yes darling?" her voice is husky, eyes lidded, lips open, whispering like she was sharing a secret even though no one else was around.

"i-i- i'm- i need-"

"what do you need?"

you gulp, fighting back against your better conscience, but the lust that's curling up inside your stomach wins out, "you. i need you."

she grins, "do you now?"

"yes please- sana please-"

"you're so cute when you beg darling. alright then. i'll entertain you." the hand that's at your thigh finally pushes forward, fingertips meeting drenched folds as you gasp in relief and desperation, hips pushing forward, trying to feel more of her.

"god you're so wet sweetheart. is this all for me?"

you're whimpering as she traces those practiced fingers of hers up and down your slit, just barely giving any pressure to your clit before dipping back down. "y-yes! all you all you-"

"well i have to be a good host and receive what you've given me don't i?"

she sinks down onto her knees, pulling your thighs towards her, taking off her specs and licking her lips devilishly as her eyes lock on her target.

your hands are about to move into her hair when she barks up at you, "no touching. you can touch yourself but you can't touch me."

you whine but obey, sliding your hands back up your stomach to grope at your chest needily, your nipples having been attention-starved since you took your bra off.

she grins, enjoying the view for a little before finally bringing her face closer. she blows on your puffy clit playfully, loving the way you squirm and whimper under her, before attaching her mouth to your pussy, sucking greedily.

"o-oh-!"

your hands grip your chest harder, wishing you could hold onto her head instead, but you have to settle for grinding down into her face, pushing against her grip at your hips while she eats you out, slurping loudly. the sounds are absurd, but your mind is too hazy to worry about being embarrassed anymore, not when your fingers are pinching and twisting your own nipples while you watch sana suck your clit into her mouth, her eyes locked on yours while she eats.

"g-god sana so good- so fucking good mmf- you- you- you're driving me insane god-"

sana flicks her tongue happily in response, one hand releasing your hip and coming down to play with your entrance. you clench around nothing, eager to take her in, and she obliges, pushing a finger in with your clit still in her mouth, curling it to hit the spot that only served to bring you closer to the edge.

"r-right there fuck- right there- i'm gonna- you're doing so good fuck-"

she starts pumping her finger in and out of you, the squelching sounds of your sex only become louder, an accompaniment to her suckling. you're flicking your fingers over your nipples, again and again, matching her pace, each stroke getting you closer and closer. then she adds in another finger, curling upwards, hooking into you, and you cry out, back arching, hips pushing into her face, shaking and trembling as you feel yourself fall over the edge.

sana continues to lick and nose at you while you come down, hands rubbing soothing motions into your hips and thighs. eventually, she slides back up, hand replacing yours over your chest and copping a feel for herself.

she's kissing your neck, chest, ears, all while you try and gain sense of yourself again. you turn your head with a pout, urging her to look at you. she smiles, knowing what you wanted without even asking, leaning in to kiss your pout away, your lips moving against one another as you hum at the taste of yourself on her lips,

she continues fondling your chest, rolling her fingers over nipples as you start to wriggle under her again, easily aroused.

she breaks away from your mouth with a smirk, "you're pretty when you cum."

you whine, burying your head in her neck.

"maybe i should tell mina and momo that. i think they'd get the best shots if you were mid orgasm."

"w-what?" your voice is shaky, still squiriming under her touch.

"hmm... you want another don't you? i've been working on something... special. how would you like to try it out for me?"

she doesn't wait for an answer, detaching herself from you and walking to one of her work desks. you can only watch after her, still spread open and tingly all over as she rummages through a drawer. your eyes widen when she pulls out a dildo, mind and vision suddenly clearer as she smirks, tugging out a corresponding harness and slipping the dildo into it.

then she starts to strip.

she leaves her top on, only removing her bottoms before stepping into the harness, the patchwork dildo hanging from her hips, looking strangely like it belonged on her.

she giggles when she notices you staring, doing a little spin, the fake dick swinging around ridiculously. "you like? i was going for... cutesy and demure." she plops down next to you, tapping her thighs.

you swallow nervously, pushing yourself up and straddling her.

"you can touch now."

your hands that were awkwardly swinging by your side finally come up to rest on her shoulders.

"answer the question."

"y-yeah- i- um- it's cute."

she giggles again, "that's good. need to make sure something as cute as you gets filled up with something just as cute hmm? then you can make all those cute sounds for me too."

her hands are relentless, tugging you down into her lap, brushing your hair over your shoulder, running fingers down over sides. she's always got to have her hands on you.

you huff when she teases the strap along your slit, feeling yourself dripping already. you try and catch her eye, pouting again.

she rolls her eyes, "just ask me if you want to kiss."

"can you kiss me?"

"see that was so cute! that's a good girl." then she's pulling you into her, latching onto your lips.

the makeout session that proceeds has you grinding down into her without even realising, and you take a hint of pleasure at her returning the movement, her own hips starting to rut up into yours. she sucks your bottom lip into her mouth, swiping her tongue across it before letting it go, invading your mouth still with the faint taste of yourself. when you break away to gasp for air, she moves straight to your cheek, then down to your jaw, neck, collarbones, sucking marks along her way, hands coming up to play with your chest again.

she pushes your breasts upwards so her mouth can reach skin easier, sucking and kissing, careful not to leave marks on you, knowing your body was your instrument in this line of work.

you moan when you feel her lips wrap around a nipple, the warm cavern of her mouth sucking the little nub, her tongue lapping over it with glee.

you're unabashedly rocking against her now, loving the tingle that went up your spine with every pass of the strap on your clit, her mouth still attached to your chest while you held the back of her head, keeping her against you while you moaned and whined into her.

she switches nipples, cool air hitting the wet, exposed nub. you shiver under her despite her actions only heating your body up past a temperature you didn't know was possible.

"s-sana-"

she hums around your nipple, always so focused on her work, the vibrations go straight to your core.

"need you- n-now- please-"

your nipple pops free from her mouth, "i'm not stopping you." then she's back at your chest, sucking and kissing, addicted.

you groan, looking down between you and shakily aligning your entrance with her strap. it takes a few tries and you're almost crying in frustration and sana's not helping at all, completely preoccupied with your chest, before you finally sink down, moaning low and heavy as you feel her fill you up.

"fuuck-"

sana sucks at the patch of skin on your left breast just a little harder in response.

you push yourself back up using her shoulders, then drop back down, cursing as your core tingles at the sensation.

you repeat the process, eyes locked on the way she enters and exits you, her strap coated in your essence, the squelching sounds mix with your whines and groans.

"fuck- fuck- fuck-" you start riding her, swearing each time she fills you up, setting up a rhythm that has you dizzy with need. sana finally decides to break away to watch her masterpiece bounce in front of her. fading bite marks and patches of red skin sway as she moves her hands down to your hips, pushing you down harder with each entrance, bucking her own hips up to get the strap that much deeper.

"fuck!" your hands on her shoulders tighten, feeling her everywhere inside you, around you.

"review it for me sweetheart." she husks out, "if you saw it in a magazine would you buy it?"

"y-yes- fuck- w-wait no i don't- i don't know-"

"no?"

"you don't come with it- fuck-"

she chuckles, hands moving again to grip your ass, squeezing the flesh between her fingers, "let's say i do. then what?"

"y-yes- yes yes fuck- yes i would-"

"mhmm? i want a more detailed review than that darling. i need to know how to make improvements."

"f-fuck sana- it's so- you're fucking me so- so good- it's good it's good-"

"other than good?"

"g-god you're so- it's um- fuck- it's cute and- i like the colours- a-and shit jesus christ- it fills me up just right- and i'm gonna- fuck- i can't- it's gonna make me cum-!"

"why don't i give it a helping hand then hm?"

"yes! yes- please- please- god- fuck yes-"

she pushes herself up, pulling you back down, surprising you with the amount of strength she had hidden, then she's thrusting up into you roughly.

"uh- uh- fuck- uh-" you're moans are cut up with every thrust, she's experienced, like she is in everything she does, panting with effort while her hips work, her arms pulling you down with every thrust up, you can't even keep track of where she's entering you, moving so fast it was a blur. or maybe those were the tears building up as it gets almost too much, your desperation to cum for her, to cum all over her.

"f-fuck!" you scream out, clenching down around her, hips moving of their own accord, shaking and moaning, almost blacking out from pleasure.

your breaths are heavy as you come back down, still with sana's strap lodged inside you, sweaty hands unwrapping themselves from around her neck, slumping down and resting your entire weight on the fashion designer.

sana hums, brushing through your hair and your back, letting you catch your breath.

when you finally gain enough of your bearings, you grunt as you sit up, sliding the dildo out of yourself, cringing at the mess you've made between the two of you.

sana only giggles, bringing a finger down to trace the length of the dildo and then bringing it to her own mouth, sucking it and humming around the taste.

your stomach twinges again in arousal, but you whine, too sensitive to go again, knocking your forehead against sana's shoulder as you avoid looking at her.

she lets you rest there for a while, but eventually stands up, carrying the dildo off with her to clean off. when she comes back, she has your clothes and a damp towel for you to clean yourself up with.

"i have another appointment now. feel free to stay as long as you'd like, just don't touch any of the designs. i'll send the completed outfits for you to try once they're done." she's all business again, but before you let her turn on her heel and leave, you croak out.

"w-what about you?"

"what about me?" she raises an eyebrow.

you blush, covering yourself now that you have enough shame to be embarrassed. she pays you no mind, following your eyeline and looking down at herself. then she realises what you're asking.

she laughs brightly, "no sweetheart you don't need to take care of me. but if i ever need another... trial customer... i'll be sure to ask for you." she winks, and then she's off, heels clicking in the workshop and door closing behind her.

you sink down into the couch, still processing exactly what happened. all you knew was that everyone was right to be terrified of minatozaki sana. though your fear came with a side of thrill you're sure no one else could've warned you about.

[luveline]

Helllloooo :) if at all possible, could I request a fic for when stripper!reader realizes that Spencer actually like-likes her? Maybe he finally makes a real move or plans a “fancy” date to show her how much she means to him? She definitely wouldn’t believe him at first/think she deserves it, but if it could be a happy ending, I’d appreciate it so much. 🥺🥺

🐈‍⬛ thank youuuu

ty for requesting <3 fem

He smells like coffee. 

"Hi!" you say, bending under the weight of his hug. 

"What are you," —he drags his face against your cheek— "doing here, I thought you were," —his hand cups your neck as he pulls away— "going to Moira's for the weekend?" 

"You sound so happy," you say, nonplussed. 

"Yeah I'm happy. Do you wanna stay over? We can go to the movies, or we can get takeout, we can do both." Spencer beams at you. "Sorry, I'm– I'm rushing. I'm just happy. Is everything okay? What happened to house sitting?" 

"Oh, nothing, she missed her flight," you say. "Can I come in?" 

Spencer ushers you inside. His apartment is cleaner than usual. He's actually had time to clean, it seems, the faint scent of disinfectant alive in the kitchen and fresh laundry folded on the table behind the couch. He follows your eyes. "I did the stuff you left, last time. But I ended up with like, three pairs of your socks? How did that happen?" 

"You didn't have to." 

"Why wouldn't I?" He goes to walk off but stops, twisting around to give you another hug from the side. "Tea?" 

Your face feels hot. "Yes, please." 

Spencer takes to the kitchen to make tea, one of your shared routines. He grabs the kettle from the cabinet, two mugs, and two teabags. You don't know why you stay in the living room as he fills the kettle. He's putting it on the stove when he says, "Oh, hey, I got you, uh– you liked my soap, right? The chamomile? So I got you some. It's in my room, and I got you some of your chocolates from Leaven." 

"You did?" 

You fail to hide your excitement. Spencer waves you away without looking. "They're with the soap."  

You laugh to yourself, leaning down to pull your sneakers off of your heels. You leave them by the couch and slip over the hardwood into his room, where your promised soap and chocolate sit on one of his desks. He calls them your chocolates, but you only ever tried them because he saw you looking at them one time and bought them as a surprise. You've been hooked on them ever since. 

You're thinking about what joke you can make to hear him laugh. Something on the nose about him ruining your future career aspirations or a flirty nothing, maybe. You just want me to fall out of shape so I can't work. 

The suitcase on the bed distracts you. Open, half packed. 

"Are you going somewhere?" you ask him, chocolates and soap held loosely to your stomach. 

Spencer takes the kettle off of the heat, bringing it to the two mugs to top them one at a time. "What?" 

"Your suitcase?" 

His shoulders tighten just so. "Well, there's this convention happening but I hate driving in the dark, so I figured I'd stay up there." 

"When, tonight?" 

"Yeah." He picks up the mugs and shoots you a smile. "But obviously I'm not going now." 

Obviously? Spencer rounds the side of the couch to sit down, murmuring for you to come and sit with him. You follow his order without question, setting yourself on the couch cushion beside him, and find there's little resistance in you to leave space between your thighs. He leans into you as soon as he's able and hands you your mug. 

There's something in his eyes. A warmth. A real affection. "I'd definitely rather be with you here than without you there. Even if there's a guest speaker who's actually managed to split shared arteries between conjoined twins while they're still in the womb." 

"You're interested in that stuff?" 

"Just for fun." He doesn't drink his tea. He probably didn't want any, a coffee mug already on the table, but he always makes two cups. You think it might be so you don't feel like you're an imposition. He's that special brand of thoughtful. 

"Can I ask you something?" you ask, your heartbeat a tangible thump under your skin. It's a silly question guided by a stupid thought, but you have to ask. You've always wanted to see other people's hands, so to speak, uncomfortable with the unknown. 

"Anything." 

You've exposed the most private parts of you and still it's hard to be vulnerable. It's easier knowing you're with Spencer, but not easy. "Do you like me?" 

Spencer doesn't do either of you the disservice of pretending he doesn't know what you mean. His voice is measured but shyness creeps in, an almost questioning lilt to his words as he says, "Well, yeah. I thought you already knew that." 

"I thought you… appreciated the aesthetic of me." 

"I do." He looks at your forehead rather than your eyes. "You know you're pretty, and your dancing, it's– it's pretty too. I think you're beautiful, but that's really not the only thing about you. You've been remarkably easy to fall for." 

His cheeks are suddenly red. A blotchy staining under his cheekbones and up over the bridge of his nose. He wouldn't lie, but the blush cements that he's telling the truth. Spencer really, truly likes you, enough to buy you the gifts that sit in your lap and to cancel trips. He'd rather stay home with you and drink tea on the couch than be anywhere else. 

"Spence, if you think it was easy for you, you have no idea what it's been like for me," you say quietly. That draws his eyeline back to your face. You smile at him gently. "No idea." 

He puts his mug down on the table to hug you. "Careful of your tea," he says, his smile audible.

You hug his arm to your chest with one hand. When he kisses the side of your head, you're pleasantly shocked. 

"I didn't realise," you say. "Sorry, Spence, I never–" Never thought you'd like me like that. "I didn't know." 

"I was just waiting for you to catch up." 

[inkdrinkerworld]

anything with soft dom remus or beefy!james with a shy gf just makes my brain go ahhhhh and idk why

Omg omg!!! Going w beefy!jamie for this! Ft: sleepy shy!reader and college rugby!jamie

Staying up late to help your boyfriend study game analytics seems like a good idea three hours ago when your eyes weren’t burning.

It was the best idea, when you’d been bright eyed and had just had your third cup of coffee for the afternoon.

Now, your eyes are bleary and you can’t stop fighting back yawns and you don’t think you can hear the words, ‘formation’, ‘back line’ or ‘forward press’ anymore.

James doesn’t seem to notice, too busy scribbling on the pages in front of him and adjusting the images on his tablet.

Some of his other teammates are on a call with him so they’re all adding their thoughts, but now you just really want your bed.

“Jamie?” You murmur, not having the brain power for much more than whispered words.

“Yeah angel?” His tongue is poking out the corner of his lip as he readjusts something on the screen before looking at you.

James finds your glasses slightly askew on your face, your eyes a little on the bloodshot side, and your pyjamas (his old sweater and a pair of shorts) all wrinkled from you leaning the the table.

You look just about ready to pass out on yourself.

“Oh angel,” he coos, scooting back in his chair and patting his thigh. “Ve’been keeping you up, haven’t I?”

You stand slowly, peeking over the top of his tablet to check that his camera was off before climbing into his lap.

You hadn’t bothered to check that his mic was off and are met with coos coming from the speakers. “Potter are you not taking care of our good luck charm?” Sirius teases as you cuddle into James’ chest.

James presses a kiss to your neck as you shuffle until you find the best spot.

“He’s taking care of me just fine, Siri. Are you taking care of Remus?” You ask, a teasing tone to your voice but James knows anxiety is riddling your tease.

You might be a little more open with him and his friends, but you’re still a very delicate, shy thing at the end of the day.

“Yeah. How are you treating your boyfriend?” James pipes and you’re grateful to have Sirius’ attention diverted as another series of yawns wrack your body.

“Ten more minutes, angel. Then we’ll get all cozy in bed, yeah?” You nod, eyes closing as you listen to the rhythmic ‘lub dub’ of James’ heart.

You’re almost asleep when James coos, “Poor girl,” you feel him take off your specs and open your eyes. “We’re going to bed m’heart.”

James is sure you’re blushing, even in your sleepy state.

[theneptuneflytrap]

Since new people are joining the Transformers fandom I thought I'd make a couple post's about different characters that can be seen in the background of TF: One. Specifically, I wanted to repost their original toy tech specs and their Marvel Bios. Firstly, Jazz:

Left: Jazz in Tf: One, Right: Jazz from the 1984 Marvel comics

His original toy tech spec reads: "Jazz loves Earth culture. Always looking to learn more. His knowledge of Earth makes him the indispensable right-hand man to Optimus Prime. Takes most dangerous missions. Very cool, very stylish, very competent. Equipped with photon rifle, flamethrower, full-spectrum beacon, 180db stereo speakers. Creates dazzling, disorienting sound and light shows. Versatile, clever, daring, but prone to be distracted".

His quote (most Western tf toys came with a quote): "Do it with style or don't bother doing it."

The following information is from Marvel's "Transformers Universe"

Function: Special Operations, Saboteur

Profile: "Jazz would be cruising down Bourbon Street in New Orleans or be double-parked outside a cellar club in Greenwich Village soaking up the local sounds if he weren't in the middle of a war. He's a confirmed Earthen culture junkie-he can talk fluently about ballet or break-dancing (although he prefers the latter), and he's always on the lookout for more stuff to turn on to. His knowledge of Earthen ways and his easy adaptability to Earthen environments make him the indispensable right-hand man of his commander, Optimus Prime. He's often given the most dangerous assignments, and, with characteristic coolness, usually pulls them off using something out of his seemingly bottomless bag of tricks. He'd rather dazzle you with style than accomplish a mission the easy way".

The abilities section is a near copy of the tech spec but it adds: "His biggest asset is the versatility and cleverness he possesses in using the resources at his disposal".

Finally, Weaknesses: "Although Jazz's fire-power and strength are weak relatives to that of some of the other Autobots, he more than compensates with his daring and skill. He's prone to be distracted from his primary assignment by Earthen behavior pattern that he finds interesting. this sometimes leads to disastrous consequences".

And there you go! I hope this gives any new fans a good idea about what he's like!

[thechurchoftheradiodemon]

Good evening, denizens of Radioapple nation!

I think it's time for a new fic recommendation list. I have been reading some series you recommended and some others that I found on tmblr. My tbr is still shamefully long, you people need to stop being so talented, I can't keep up with all the content.

In any case, here goes my rec list for anyone that is interested. These fics are 100% unadultered radioapple, some sfw, some nsfw, but all of them with good aroace-spec representation and fantastic characterizations.

Without further ado, here we go:

• OSaS, by @morningstarwrites: no need for introductions. This is, I believe, the most famous fic of the fandom. So many hijinks, so much fluff, such character development, and a lot of lovely bickering. It's still going, and we are now entering the 6th arch, with promises of turning up the heat (so far, very much sfw and cute).

• De santos y pecadores, by Sun_Haworth: this is the Spanish version of Of Saints and Sinners (yes, the fic is this famous, it has translations). Very good translation work, I have to say, so check it out if you are a Spanish speaker or if you want to practice your Spanish!

• Lucid Dreams of New Orleans, by @radiaurapple: a "finished" one, with promises of more epilogues and some snippets to come. This is one of the loveliest, most heartwrenching fics I've read of the fandom. Pseudo-human Alastor AU, beautifully written, it will entrance you. You will long for New Orleans like you never knew you could. A must read, for sure. Sfw with the exception of this (highly recommended) snippet, 3 a.m. (Bonus track). I'd also recommend reading A LULLABY FOR MR SHINGLES of you are looking to be creeped out and for a good laugh.

• We should've been enemies, by @soot-and-salt: the gothic horror romance fic you didn't know you needed. It's almost finished, and it captures the creepy dark atmosphere so well. This one is nsfw and very sexy, if I may say so. The writing flows really good, and you can't miss their one-shots: I shine only with the light you gave me, such gorgeous premise and prose, it's a human Alastor AU; and Transubstantiation, based on a fabulous CMV, very gorey and ethereal, it bewitched me.

• All changed, changed utterly, by @tollingreminiscentbells: a finished one, nsfw. Human Alastor AU at the beginning, we follow an alternative narrative in which Lucifer and Alastor met each other before Hell. It is SUCH a gorgeous fic, very nicely written, with so much fluff and angst and character development. Domestic and romantic, without losing each characters essence. I binged it in a couple of days. A must read for any radioapple fan, for sure.

• Lucifer and his terrible, horrible, no good, very bad relationship, by @keelywolfe: this is another radioapple stapple, and rightfully so. Nsfw and still on going, a long read that's very worth it. The writing? Incredible. The evolution of every character? Astounding. The plot? THICK. An amazingly hooking fic, with so much fluff, hurt, confort, love, hate, secrets, drama and smut. A MUST, no doubt. You can also read the short Radioapple Standalones, they are a cute, dramaless and sexy read to rest from the chaos of the main series.

• Bedtime rituals to try out before the next angelic war, by @miribalis: finished and sfw. In this one, we find ourselves with a tricky hotel room and many sheanigans involving insomnia, managerial duties and feelings. Very very cute, writing on point and captures a cozy atmosphere that few do. Another binge-read for me, I just couldn't get enough domesticity from them.

• Blood, water and other bonds, by Minimalistless: nsfw two-shot. If you are looking for some self-indulgent radioapple smut, here is your fic. This one is really well written and fun. Worth giving it a shot.

• loml, by @radioapple-heathen: sfw and still going. A very cute fic, with some really angsty moments and pet snake sheanigans. Alastor and Lucifer discover they have many things in common, but their rivalry never fades... for now.

• Stolen Moments, by @mothballmilkshake: I'm still going through this series, but so far so very good. Nsfw and another very worthy long read. It's fun, it's cute, we see the development of their characters and their relationship, and so far it's becoming another favourite! Definitelly worth seeing how this continues unfolding.

• Strange Appetites, by Gotllphi: Nsfw, gorey (diegetic gore, I believe they described it) and still going. Currently on hiatus, but the author has the story all planned out and will resume writing as soon as they can! My first radioapple read and still on my top list. Human Alastor AU, with some very cute teen Charlie included here and there. The plot is highly adicting, the development of their relationship so much so, and the writing is fantastic. Give it a shot to encourage your local fic writers not to give up!

• Unhealthy Competition, by @theaffablescamp: I have to catch up with this one too, but it is, overall, fun, sexy and intriguing. Nsfw, still going, SO many hooking plot points, SO many hijinks. The radioapples navigate their personal issues while trying to understand each other. A good, entertaining read.

• Eat your heart out, by @seducipher: modern human Alastor AU, nsfw, gorey and unfinished. Very cool atmosphere and premise, good writing and tantalizing. I also binge read this one. Sexy and intriguing, can't wait to see how this one continues.

• @notherpuppet 's AUs: I usually put this one at the end bc it's not a fic per se, but the My Deer Nanny AU is another fandom classic, rightfully so. Fun, cute, fun, domestic, fun, heartmelting... it has everything a radioapple fan needs! They are also in a queer-platonic relationship, which I think is really refreshing and good for their characters. Don't miss their other AUs, art and short-comics. They are pure GOLD.

Also, as I should, have your read Primavera en Nueva Orleans? A great fic in Spanish about Alastor's last Mardi Gras, you should take a look, it's nice 👀

But, anyway, this is all folks! I'll post new fic recs in a while when I continue with my tbr. Thank you for listening and reading, and stay tuned!

[felassan]

Some thoughts on this article from Game Informer [source]. ^^

Teia and Viago as the 'face' of the Crows/the Crow 'agents', pretty please..? 🥺 👉👈 And I hope maybe Strife and Irelin can be the same but for the Veil Jumpers..? :D

Customizing qunari Rook's horn type and material reminds me of Taash's gem-horn design

Which faction do you think has the coolest casual threads? in my mind's eye [wild speculation] it's a toss up between Mourn Watch and Antivan Crows :D

What do sword and shield warriors 'hip-fire' with?

What is a "night blade" :D

Faction selection/backstory (while not playable) determining who Rook was before, how they met Varric, and why they travel with him reminds me of the different origins in DA:O and how each possible HoF crossed paths with and was recruited by Duncan in a different way.. 🥺

Factions and groups in the world working together to save it.. it felt like there were hints of this in Tevinter Nights. In that book, we saw different groups and factions from across Thedas working with the Inquisition, with varying degrees of cooperation, on being concerned about Solas. Yet other groups were also interested in keeping tabs on him. now we see the same kinda thing in DA:TV with different groups being involved in saving the world from the Evil Gods.

"'You help them, they help you now" but first they all have serious problems you need to solve' has echoes of how in DA:O, the HoF solved a problem for each major group (Dalish elves/werewolves, Circle Tower/templars, Orzammar etc) before they would obey the Grey Warden treaties and agree to help fight the darkspawn for the final battle

Do you think that some of the voices in the Thedas Calls teaser trailer were some of the 'faces' of the factions? For example, the Antivan Crow woman speaker as the face of the Crows, and the Nicholas Boulton-sounding Warden man speaker as the face of the Grey Wardens?

Each spec being tied to a faction explains the faction symbols being on the specializations, as here. From this, we can see that the faction each spec is tied to is as follows:

Mage: Death Caller - Mourn Watch Evoker - Shadow Dragons Spellblade - Antivan Crows Rogue: Duelist - Antivan Crows Veil Ranger - Veil Jumper Saboteur - Lords of Fortune Warrior: Champion - Grey Wardens Reaper - Mourn Watch Slayer - Lords of Fortune

The Mirror of Transformation returns. Do you think that means Rook will also be able to go to the Black Emporium, like Hawke in DAII and Inquisitor in DA:I? Will Xenon the Antiquarian also return? ^^ Maybe not though, since it's said the Mirror is in The Lighthouse

I'm not sure about "If you find yourself unhappy with your lineage or your class, you can change them using the Mirror of Transformation". It was previously reported that "You can change your character’s physical appearance at any time during the game, but not their class or backstory" [source] [prev post mentioning it]. I guess one article is incorrect, but am not sure which. or maybe this aspect of the game changed in development. ^^ UPDATE: please see here re: an update/clarification from Game Informer on this. it reads:

"Editor's Note: This article previously stated players can change their physical appearance, class, lineage, and identity using the Mirror of Transformation. That is incorrect as class, lineage, and identity are locked after you first select those. The article has been updated to reflect that, and Game Informer apologizes for any confusion this mistake may have caused."

What do you think is the problem[s] faced by each faction that we have to solve? :D We got some hints about this already. For example, for the Crows, something "is amiss" in Antiva and they're trying to uncover the source. The Qunari have also invaded Antiva. For the Wardens, they just recently discovered one of Ghil's underground monster labs and learned there are 11 more (Tevinter Nights), and ominous tremors of unknown cause have been creating disturbances in the Anderfels lately. The Lords of Fortune have lost dominion over the coasts of Rivain and dragons are laying waste to their ships. The Shadow Dragons probably have the Venatori, who are still around and up to mad shit, to contend with. Arlathan Forest is currently all timewarped, reality-fragmented, awash with darkspawn and corruption etc. For the Mourn Watch.. maybe the Veil rips and weakening has caused more premature possessions of corpses and demons possessing corpses and wreaking havoc in the Necropolis, or the Nevarran politics stuff? In TN Dorian also mentions learning from a Mortalitasi mage that there are things "past the Veil of our world, neither demon nor spirit". maybe they're having problems with those things?

[source]

[marveling-cg]

As a teacher, the suit couldn't really have come at a better time.

When he'd graduated from college, he'd been surprised to see Principal Nezu in the crowd with All Might and Aizawa-sensei, and even more surprised to receive Principal Nezu's invitation to teach at UA - in the hero course no less!

They'd assigned him to the 2nd year hero course -- the 1st years, who were often still figuring out the limits of their quirks, needed teachers who might be able to physically intervene if something went wrong

His first year teaching, he'd spent just trying to get his feet under him: he borrowed a lot of the previous teacher's curriculum while he tried to get the hang of classroom management, and and grading, and parent contact, not to mention conducting practical exercises with his students while he was quirkless

But his second year he started making the curriculum his own: his strength had always been his analysis and he wanted his students to have that, too.

He started adding in case studies for each unit; invited his friends in to give talks about declassified or appropriately anonymized cases they'd worked on

By his third year, he'd gotten his unit plans down to a science: intro topic, host guest speaker, complete case study, hold class discussion, conduct practical exercise, students submit a reflection, test

His first unit of the year was always his favorite -- an intro to battle analysis. He'd never gotten Kacchan to commit to coming on campus, but if Deku sent him footage from a fight, Kacchan would send back a recording of his analysis

Once the kids got over the initial hilarity of Kacchan roasting the shit out of hero or villain or both, they usually asked Deku to play the video back a few more times so they could see just which errors Kacchan had caught, how quickly they could arise, how consequential they could be. It was a great way to get them open to Deku's whole approach to the class, and a good way for them to know that he would accept their work in their own voices -- no need to hide their personalities for points

The rest of the units -- meant to get his students ready to apply for their provisional licenses -- all followed suit.

And since most hero agencies had given new priority to community relations, he could schedule through his friends' offices to get them on campus: Tenya, Uraraka, Tsu, Momo, Shinso were especially reliable guests

And while the first half of the year was dedicated to the practicalities of being on the ground as a hero; the second half was dedicated to the heart of being a hero

They looked at rise of the League of Villains and Stain, talked about the plight of heteromorphs; he pulled in primary sources, they discussed their own personal credos (he liked to use Kacchan's and Hawks' as examples of how different and personal they could be while still leading to similar work), discussed the sociological and psychological impact of challenging quirks

All that to say, year four is the perfect time for the suit to fall into his lap.

He's got his professional shit together

And, though he's let himself shed some of the weight he needed to maintain One For All, he's kept himself in good condition

(High school students are so easily motivated by a little good natured teasing, "you really gonna let your quirkless teacher lap you?" has been a remarkably easy way to keep his kids going through tough conditioning work)

So, after he's managed to stop crying on All Might long enough to schedule a call with Hatsume to go over the specs; and stopped crying after that call long enough to process everything she's shared about its function, he realizes he's going to need to train before he can take this thing out in the field

The suit is incredible: a light exoskeleton that'll enhance his strength, 360 degree sensors that will pick up objects moving at certain speeds or sudden changes in air pressure, a light propulsion system that will allow him brief bursts of flight or slightly longer periods to hover, a chord system that he can use to pull himself forward or restrain villains, a diffuser that will set off a smoke screen

He spends another hour or so after the call with Hatsume to cry about how closely they've tried to recreate the capabilities of One For All

And then spends another four thinking about all of the manual controls he'll need to learn to replicate the skills he used to be able to call forth with a thought.

Thinks too about the kind of conditioning he'll need to do in order to not lose speed or an arm to the weight and propulsion of the suit

He remembers fondly a dirty beach half a lifetime ago; remembers, too, a forest trail where a quirkless All Might declared he'd change the future. Deku can do this.

And there's no better way to address the Kacchan of it all:

He'd tried calling Kacchan after All Might had dropped the news -- and been sent straight to voicemail three times in a row; received back a terse text: u r welcome nerd

Which told him Kacchan wasn't ready to deal -- with Deku's tears, or his gratitude, or with a conversation about how Kacchan had dedicated all of his professional career to funding Deku's dream -- as if all the long hours, and parties missed, and extra shifts covered, hadn't all been some sort of declaration of intent about the rest of their fucking lives

Which was fine. What was Deku going to say anyway?

"Was this a proposal, Kacchan? Because if so, my answer is yes."

That could wait. They had the rest of their fucking lives, apparently.

But in the meantime, Deku needed to train. He couldn't afford to rush this. Kacchan would be furious if Deku got himself hurt because he was being reckless.

So he headed over to the gym in Kacchan's building after work, just in time to catch Kacchan coming in for his biweekly workout.

"I've got a plan. I think I'm going to need to dedicate some attention to these particular muscle groups to protect from injury. I think I probably need to gain a little more muscle, too. Then, I want to start training in the suit. I'll need to get a feel for how it works as a whole in combat and rescue settings. But then I want to work on isolations. Can I trigger just this response as quickly as possible in various circumstances. What can I do or not if I've just got control of the arms or just the legs or just one limb. I've put together a timetable. I think, if you'll help me, I could be ready for field work without injuring myself by the end of this school year."

When Deku finally pauses and looks up from his notebook, Kacchan looks visibly relieved, shoulders down from his ears, that gleam in his eye that's signals amusement in spite of himself, the start of smile tucked into the corner of his mouth

Kacchan snatches the notebook from Deku's hands and looks over the charts. Deku barely grumbles at all at Kacchan's free hand tousling Deku's hair while he skims.

"Alright, dweeb, let's get started--"

[mullermilkshake]

Part one <- Part two -> Part three

A Bulldog's a nice breed.

Relationships act differently when under pressure. Like diamonds.

<- Masterlist

Frontman!Satoru Gojo x Fem!Reader x Frontman!Suguru Geto Request by @vampir-queen Font used for title Squid game AU,Fem!reader, No use of Y/N,Canon typical ,Blood,Murder,violence,Gunshots,Shooting,Survival of the fittest,Satoru gets a boner,Slightly nsfw,

Satoru watched the pitch of the playing field. The game was bulldog, one he never really played as a child yet the game was exceedingly simple. Get to the other side without being caught. That way you weren’t staring down the end of an assault rifle.

He watched you step closer, watching everyone around you anxiously. You looked up at him with purpose for the first time since yesterday in the bunk room. “I never really played this game, do you have any tips?”

Well, if it’s Bulldog now… Hide and Seek is probably last then. 

“Watch the pink suits, not where you’re going. Be quick and slip through the gaps in their defense. There’s five of them, so if they each catch one then at least thirty six players will die. But they can catch more than one person per round I think. Meaning it could double, or even triple.”

“I repeat… The second game is Bulldog. All players will line up in the marked area on the side of the playing field, you will all run from one side to the other and avoid the five bulldogs, there will be six rounds. Those who are captured or touched by the bulldogs will be eliminated…. .” 

You looked up at the speakers on the wall absentmindedly. “So we can’t be too fast or too slow?”

“Exactly. And once the herd thins out, each round will get more difficult.” The game wasn’t one that could be rigged by the workers, but rather it was the other players Satoru had to worry about. “But don’t worry, stick with me and I’ll get you through it.”

“The herd? Is that what you call us?”

Fuck. He should not have said that. “I try to use terms like that, it helps me not get too drawn in with emotions. You should try it, it helps focus.”

“Oh… right.”

“Take my hand, don’t let go of it.”

You did as you were told and took his hand, holding tightly as though you were tethered. “Why are you helping me?”

He wasn’t going to admit that he only gravitated to you because you were holding your own and Satoru wanted to see just how long it took before you began crying and begging to help. Yet you weren’t just yet, though you looked as frail as a mouse, your tone was as solid and level as chiseled stone.

“We’re all here for the same reason, right?”

“True. Alright then, let’s pass this game.” Your grip tightened and the deep breaths from your chest anticipated the buzzer to run.

Satoru pulled you with him, the exhilaration of putting his life on the line whilst also dragging you with him heightened his senses. The large volume of bodies moved as one towards the pink suited workers, getting closer and closer until the player’s started darting about the place and trying to double back on themselves.

An opening to slip through. A way between those getting caught and a few gun shots right by his ear with splatters of blood to follow. You kept up with him, getting closer when someone ran into you. Satoru pulled you in and wrapped his arm around you to get you through to the end.

The first round had finished. The easiest one out of the way.

“The following players were eliminated, Two hundred and twelve, eighty seven, fifty five-” The voice over reeled thirteen names off.

Your hand rested tightly in Satoru’s grip, covered in red and dripping on the dry dirt floor. The workers came out in unison to pull away the dead with caskets and comically large pink ribbon bows.

“The next round will begin shortly.” 

“You okay?” Satoru tugged your arm to get your attention.

“I’m… I’m fine.” Using your free hand, you wiped away specs of blood on your face.

Were you beginning to break already? If you were, then Satoru would get bored exceedingly quickly if that were the case. You held your ground though, clearing your throat and blinking the fear away.

“We’ll just do what we did before, alright?”

“Okay…”

The buzzer went off and Satoru took off running, zig zagging between the players to look for another opening. The pink workers were closing up the gaps and forming a new strategy this time round. One long net to get more people in with less time and energy.

“Got out the way bitch!” Your grip slipped from Satoru and you disappeared. A panicking man tore the connection and scrambled past Satoru.

Satoru grabbed his collar and pulled him back, pushing the man into the pink worker and purposefully watched a bullet shoot right through his skull. He was beyond pissed, super fucking pissed that his entertainment had vanished from his fingertips.

After reaching the other side of the wall, Satoru frantically searched for you, going as far to call out your number yet no one batted an eye. So he waited until the numbers were called, hoping you weren’t one of them.

“The following players were eliminated, One hundred and nineteen, forty seven, seventy two-” The voice over reeled almost twenty names off.

You were still alive. But where the fuck where you?

“Satoru, over here!”

Suguru waved over to him from a small clearing. And there you stood next to him, covered in more blood and a winced expression.

“Are you alright?”

Suguru patted you on the back as you nodded silently. “Looks like she managed on her own, isn’t that something?”

“Yeah… It is. Some asshole tried using her as a distraction.”

You gave Suguru a look before watching Satoru get closer. “I managed to avoid it, someone tripped over me and they got… Well, I’m glad you two are alright. Just four more rounds, right?”

Rounds? Satoru wasn’t counting. “Did you hurt yourself?”

“I just got kicked in the panic, I’ll be fine.”

Satoru should have left it alone, judging by your body language, you turned away from him. But he needed to make sure you were fit to keep going. He couldn’t just give up on you when you amused him so much.

“Let me see.”

“The next round will begin shortly.” 

“I’m fine, really.” though you protested, you didn’t pull away from him.

One large red mark to your face, it was already swelling your cheek and making your twitch. Satoru hooked your chin with his index finger and studied it, he noticed you wouldn’t make eye contact with him.

“We’ll get it looked at when we get out of this. Are you coming with us, Suguru?” Satoru linked your hand, though this time he laced your fingers with his for extra security.

“Sure, why not.” Suguru readied himself and slipped your hand into his too.

Copycat. 

The buzzer sounded and the next round commenced, as did the next three rounds. You, Satoru and Sugruru all made it through with one round to go. By now, there must have been one hundred and fifty people or less.

They were dropping like flies.

“One more round, we can do this.” Satoru had way too much fun.

By the fourth round, he’d managed to push a total of eight people into the pink workers. Three just by pure chance, the other five because his need to wreak havoc and see those failing struggle, grew too high. Suguru noticed immediately. You however, did not.

Keeping you unawares for now was a priority, seeing you run across the pitch was a luxury and hearing those little pants from your throat was a symphony.

In the short time that Satoru had known you, he’d realised that he was going to try and fuck you. Nothing like a quick desperate fuck under the guise of fear, right? He hadn’t known where it came from, or why, but he saw how the artificial light flickered in your eyes and how you shouldered other players as though you were anticipating their movements.

Players were getting nasty, desperate to get past and ended up dispersing between the workers to split them up. Some pushed others in front of the bulldog like Satoru had done previously and some tripped others up to get the advantage.

Satoru and Suguru took your hands and started running, you were barely catching up until a player behind somehow managed to trip you up, most probably in hopes you’d take Satoru and Suguru down with you.

Though Satoru was starting to like you, he wasn't about to give his life for you. So naturally, as though taking part in a hive mind, the two friends let go of you and dodge around the worker.

But what came after that tickled Satoru’s balls like no begging ever did. You managed to roll and evade the pink workers arms was something only seen in movies. The player behind who tried to use you as a diversion ended right in the workers arms and shot dead. You sat up with eyes like a headlight struck deer caught in the crossfire, but you didn’t continue moving. Most probably shock. Satoru yanked your arm to get you up and Suguru did the same with possibly the widest grin Satoru had ever seen.

“We’re gonna make it!” Satoru had to hold in his laughter, practically dragging you beside them before your feet could even touch the ground.

All three finished over the specified line and almost crashed into the wall, laughing at the close call. You were still in shock, never saying one word while you steadied yourself.

“The final round is now over. The following players have been eliminated-” 

“I have to say, that roll you did was genius.” Suguru wiped the sweat from his brow and eyed the pitch whilst the caskets came back out again.

“I… Well, I didn’t mean to. I just tripped.”

Satoru threw his arm around your shoulders and started to walk you back with the others. “Hey, it saved your life right? I knew the best thing for you was to let you go and look where that got you? You live to fight another day.”

“No, it’s both of you that kept me alive. I wouldn’t have made it without you. So thank you very much.” You never resisted Satoru’s arm off of you and you had just complimented you.

Oh yeah, he definitely had to fuck you now.

Maybe if he got you so wound up in the moment, you might panic in the next game or so and he’d see that little piece of fear in your eyes for real. ‘Oh my poor Satoru!’ Yeah… he’d like that very much.

If that didn't work, he doubted it would fail but if it did by some chance, the time of fear would surely show when all the players got at eachother's throats after the next game. The same pattern, the same rhythm every time.

Suguru brought Satoru back to reality when he placed a hand on top of your head, a soothing touch accompanied with a reassuring smile. “We all did it, give yourself some credit.”

The walk back to the bunk room was slower than when the players had left, though you, Satoru and Suguru seemed to enter with a positivity that was infectious. They had you smiling by the time you had sat down on your bunk, crossed legged in the most adorable way.

Satoru wanted his way in between those legs.

Should he try tonight? Or see how you fared in the next game tomorrow should the vote allow it? But if the vote to remain fell through, he doubted he’d have any interest in you on the outside. Suguru left his side to settle down in his own bunk before the food was distributed and the square masked man came back.

Should I try it? 

What if you slapped him and told him to fuck off out of here? But then he did save your life, he did get you through that game so that you could proceed.

“So what are you gonna vote for this time?” He took the chance and sat next to you on your own bed.

You never moved or indicated that you wanted him to leave. “I’m voting to stay, the money still isn't enough for what I need.”

“I think it’s very admirable that you’re doing this for a friend. It’s very selfless.” Satoru leant in and took a chance, casually getting closer to you without you actually noticing.

“Well, I try my best.” The way you fiddled with the zip of your jacket was adorable.

He couldn’t wait to break you.

You noticed the next time he moved, his hand dipped into your mattress so he could get level with your head despite the height difference. “What are you doing?”

“You’re real pretty, you know that?” Satoru couldn’t stop his eyes darting to your lips. “We could die tomorrow.”

“We could.”

‘I’m glad you survived.”

He agonised over your answer, your eyes watching him just as intensely as he was. Then you moved closer. “I’m glad you survived too.”

“So…”

“So?”

Fuck. Near death experiences were like an aphrodisiac. Satoru moved closer to kiss you and was interrupted by the masked man waltzing in with the other gunmen to announce the death toll and prize increase.

Fucking cock block. Satoru wanted to suggest going somewhere else, but before he could, you stood up and adjusted your jacket.

“Meet me in the bathroom in ten minutes. Or not, it’s up to you.”

Where the hell did this confidence come from? Satoru was getting hard already.

DISCLAIMER - I do not own any of the characters of Jujutsu Kaisen, or anything from Squid game. This is a work of fan fiction and is absolutely not representative of the views or intentions of the original creator(s).

Also please don’t post any of my work without permission thank you!

[sadistic-kiss]

Use Me (Kinktober Fic)

Succubus Reader x Various JJK Men

.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.Chapter Six.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.

During the slight hesitation people were considering that it wouldn’t happen, almost laughing at the idea as if they didn’t want to see it.

You wouldn’t go that far.

They whispered tauntingly. As if this were all up to you and not the three men whose minds were turning as rapidly as their growing cocks.

Would she degrade herself like that?

Little did the audience know, that was exactly what you wanted. You would have done it in front of the whole world. You didn’t give one ounce of a fuck. No one gets shamed for eating a slice of pizza, this was the same. You were feasting, but instead of pizza, you were eating their curse energy. Draining them of their power so that you may fuel your bones.

You knew this was far from what they planned tonight. They always tried to hold off on how much they gave you at one given time. You think deep down they may fear that one day you would take that power and turn it on them. They were cautious and you didn’t fault them but the same could be said for them. You were weak right now, at their mercy. A lowly succubus begging for a spec of attention. They could squash you if they wanted but they didn’t and you don’t think they ever would.

You both shared a mutual agreement. You were practically enemies that used each other. A simple business contract built on trust and a sick fetish.

You could see their hesitation but also the smell of arousal.

They liked the idea of using you in front of these people.

You may have unearthed a deep-rooted desire that none of them were ready for. You weren’t surprised, they were attention-hungry whores.

Gojo flicked his head as they moved to the others who occupied the lounge.

Getou swatted them like flies, “Excuse me but we are having a private matter, you all need to leave.”

The group of superheroes began to giggle as the boys ushered out the extras and closed off the space with rolling doors that clicked when secured. The music was still able to be heard by the speakers that sat up in the corners.

Your supernatural ears allow you to hear the whispers between Sukuna, Getou, and Gojo as they walk back to you.

Gojo started it, “We all can’t give in to her she’ll be way too strong.”

Sukuna nodded as if the answer was clear, “I know that’s why she’ll suck my dick. Pet come here.”

“What why you? Slut you are sucking my dick.”

“Why don’t you both sit this one out? Don’t go to them come here, darling.”

They were all three glowering at each other and you as they beckoned you to them.

You inwardly rolled your eyes as your guest started laughing while calling out,

“Why not all three?”

“Yeah treat her like a proper whore!”

Wow, you didn’t even need to tap in. These people were psychotic.

You could still see a sliver of hesitation from them. You use your power to focus on the speakers, changing the festive tune into something more dark and seductive.

That seemed to please the others as they got excited.

“Maybe it’s them that’s scared.”

“I heard they were packing maybe it was lies.”

“Shut the hell up.” Sukuna growled as he grabbed for his cock pulling it out. The crowd gasped in shock at how well-endowed Sukuna truly was. “Come suck my dick bitch.” He yelled in irritation.

Gojo and Getou looked pissed. You held in your smile as you crawled to the three of them. They were just too easy.

For theatrics, you behaved shyly, looking at everyone before timidly taking the large cock presented to you. You kissed him appreciatively before sucking his tip between your lips. You let out a deep groan, tongue blessed by precum.

Sukuna’s eyes fluttered as he rested his hand on your head, “Take it how I like it…” he hissed in pleasure while rocking until he was in your throat. He was never one for patience, and lucky for him he could fuck your mouth just how he liked.

Rough and brutal.

There was just one thing that you had to do, to really get him going. The sadist loved tears. So you created a lot for him, sobbing as if you were in pain. Staring up at him as if begging for mercy. You tried to hide how absolutely good it truly felt. Finally being fed.

“Wow-“

“He’s so…”

“Look at her take that cock you can see it in her throat-“

The others watched in awe, but their words seemed to piss Gojo off. He wanted to be the center of attention.

You were pulled away, from Sukuna. Saliva trying to connect you back.

“What the fuck dude!?” Sukuna growled as Gojo slapped you in the mouth with his cock, making you moan as you flick your tongue out.

“You had enough.” Gojo hissed at him finally sliding you on his dick instead.

“I was about to cum-“ Sukuna went to grab you but Getou slapped his hand away.

“We can all give a little.” Getou spat on his tip while wrapping your hand around it. “It’s only fair Ryoumen.”

Sukuna was gritting his teeth while he stared at you drooling on Satoru’s cock. His balls were ready to be fucking unleashed in your damn stomach. Who the hell do they think they were? He didn’t care about sharing- they should have waited!

“Don’t -Ngh- be an ass wipe Sukuna.” Gojo grunted low so only he (and you) could hear.

You noticed what they were doing. Trying to give you little crumbs? Ha! Not if you have a say in this.

“Damn baby, you are taking me so good. I bet you’re wet right now huh?” He boasted like the performer he was. He just might like the crowd more than Sukuna.

“Come now don’t forget about me sweetheart.” Getou added as he poked his cock to your cheek.

Okay, they both might like this the most.

You switched between the both of them making them groan. Using your hands and your lips to make them feel good. You could see Sukuna coming down from his lust even though he was pissed. Logic seemed to be seeping back into his brain. However, you were greedy. You didn’t want them to think they were going to escape you.

Now to use some of the power you’ve gained.

You tethered your mind with the young fool who wanted to touch you earlier. Feeding him the desire to pull your panties down so he could show the crowd how much you were enjoying this.

(Sacrifices have to be made)

The puppet gulped as he pushed himself forward and onto the ground. Before his hand could even reach under your skirt Sukuna grabbed his wrist.

“The fuck did we say?”

“Ah!” The man cried in pain as his wrist began to shatter. “S-sorry! I just wanted to see if she was wet! Please!”

‘Show them.’ You pushed the words in Sukuna’s mind as they blended with his own thoughts. With the man’s hand still within his grasp, he reached with his left so he could lift your skirt. You released a light moan, wiggling your as they watched your essence leak past your leather panties and clung to your thighs.

“Damn, just from a blow job?”

“That’s crazy.”

Gojo grinned, “Told you. Our pet is quite the trained cocksleeve.”

Getou pulled out of your mouth as he asked you, “Isn’t that right? You love this don’t you?”

“Yes~please ~only your cocks can please mmph!” You could barely get the rest out before you were stuffed again.

You kept Getou and Gojo entertained, enticing the people to bring out their cameras so they could record and take pictures. (Although they will only find a black screen when they try to replay it.) The two men before you were like pornstars smiling for the camera, pushing their sweaty hair out of their faces as their eyes twinkled with mirth. Costumes pushed down to show off their sculpted abs.

Anytime one was about to cum they would push you off so you could work on the other.

Oh yes, they were very much loving this.

It wouldn’t be hard to get them to cum. But again, you were here for a three-course meal.

Being the multitasker that you are- you continued to tease Sukuna with the poor man.

“Come on man, I’ll give you anything if you let me fuck her.”

“This is mine.” Sukuna stated while dragging your panties down. “This ass is mine-“ *Slap*! “-and this pussy is mine.” *slap* you moaned from his hand popping your ass and cunt.

The boy let out a groan, “Oh my god- her pussy looks so good…” he whined.

Sukuna chuckled, “It is, but you will never know.” He swirled two fingers around your lower lips, and then inserted them in. He sucked in a breath as you arched against his fingers, squeezing him tightly. An image was flashed in his mind. Instead of his fingers inside you, it was his dick. He choked out a tight moan, his cock twitching with need. With a need for that image to be real. He knew you were taunting him, drawing him in so he could give you what you want. Using this baboon to play with his more selfishly wicked side. He shouldn’t give in, it was a very very bad idea-

Then an image pushed more urgently in his head, but this time it was of the little bastard fucking you- that pissed him off. Making him ditch all efforts to hold himself back.

Fuck it.

He moved without another thought, replacing his fingers with his cock.

Your lips popped open as you screamed in pleasure.

Gojo looked shocked, “Sukuna you dirtbag!”

Sukuna gave him the finger as he fucked you with wild abandonment, “Don’t cum then dick head-mm- Because I sure am.” His nails dug into you, making sure you, nor anyone else could stop him from his high. Sukuna growled as he looked toward the jealous man who wanted a piece of you. “This is mine- my pussy my pet, you got it?”

The man nodded dumbly-

“SAY IT! ALL OF YOU OR I WILL KILL YOU!” He snatched out his very real knife and pressed it against the boy’s neck as he cried out-

“SHES YOURS SHES YOURS!”

Sukuna was going off on his tyrant high. Laughing maniacally.

Perfect.

Now for the others-

Gojo gasped in shock as you grabbed his cock, pulling him deep into your throat, your long tongue coiling tightly around him.

He hissed trying to not cum, ‘Shit shit shit-‘

Getou grabbed him trying to pull him away from your lips but you had a hold of him.

“Gah-“

“Satoru don’t-“

Your throat and pussy began to tighten, buzzing with warmth. Blue and red eyes rolled back- And then they were both cumming at the same time.

Getou’s eyes widen, watching your tattoo curl around your limbs and face, your eyes glowing and then your wings burst out in a puff of red dust. Everyone gasped in shock but then the dust coated them and their eyes drifted closed. They will forget everything they saw tonight.

Gojo and Sukuna went limp and fell from you, collapsing right next to each other with blurry eyes.

“Stupid…fucking…stupid…ass…” Gojo croaked.

“F-fuck…you…” Sukuna retorted as best as he could.

You swiped your lips and hummed delightfully, sucking your finger as you stared at your next meal.

Getou looked upon you in slight fear. His friends were so damn dumb. “You had enough pet.” He growled lightly while tucking himself away.

You pouted while fluttering your wings, “Suguru… you don’t want to feed me?” Your eyes then darkened as did the room your voice echoing in his mind like a siren, “I know you want to.”

Fuck! Getou turned and ran for the door. Your sadistically sweet laughter drowned out any other noise. Within a flash, he was tackled onto his back, sliding a few paces away before he realized what happened.

You were on top of him with your wings spread, your tongue licked up his chest as you danced upon him. He panted, the trail of your tongue tingled, sparking every part of his fiber. It then coiled around his cock pulling it out.

He moaned gripping the carpet underneath him as he tried to ground himself for your seductive tongue.

You hummed pulling your tongue back into your mouth, twirling your hand around his length, “May I ride you? Please?” You questioned sweetly, rubbing his tip around your lower lips.

Getou’s hands twitched as he bit his lip harshly.

Gojo and Sukuna tried to speak from their spot,

“D-don’t-“

“F-fight it-“

Getou growled inwardly- ASSHOLES! EASY FOR THEM TO SAY WHEN THEY WERE THE ONES THAT GAVE YOU ALL THIS ENERGY!

You blinked at him, “Suguru~ but I’m so wet~ don’t you want to feel?”

“You’ve had-had enough pet-“

Stubborn.

Your wings fluttered as the room changed. Instead of the frat boy house you were in front of the elders, smack dead in the middle of them all.

Suguru let out a chuckle hearing them gasp in horror. Ah one of his deepest darkest desires? How could he hold back now. He reached up to grab your hips so he could pull you onto his cock.

“Fucking ride me then slut.”

“Mm~!”

Both of you moaned as the restraint was broken. You moved like wild animals, drowning in greedy pleasure.

It was all so damn delicious.

Suguru enjoyed the voyeurism and the biggest fuck you while fucking you image you played for him was perfect.

He didn’t last long, especially with the earlier foreplay. With one last thrust, he slammed you down and let out a loud grunt.

“Hmmm~.” You shivered feeling him coat your insides with his essence. Slowly but surely his grip loosened and then he collapsed while panting heavily.

After your euphoria ended you stood with a big smile.

“Ah~” you looked around feeling much more alive. You step over all of the bodies lying around, fixing your appearance as you walk out. “Thank you for the meal boys!”

They let out a light groan as you nearly skipped out excitedly.

It was time for you to go hunting.

You were still hungry after all.

.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.Chapter seven.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.

[keeheauxtales]

S.I.S. (Self-Indulgent Series) | VOL. 1

“I’ll take a ‘me espresso,’ please?”🔞

☕️

MDNI

"I'm working late, 'cause I'm a singer Oh, he looks so cute wrapped 'round my finger." – "Espresso" | Sabrina Carpenter

pairing: barista!Keeho (soft dom switch vibes as per the usual) x musician!reader (fem-bodied switch vibes as per the usual!)

synopsis: after your routine weekly performance — and after Stephen’s regular shift — ends, feelings arise between the both of you that can’t be fixed with coffee… but can create similar lingering effects.

word count: ~3.5k

warnings + themes: [semi-]public sex, unprotected sex (y'all already know: wrap it irl), fingering, oral (f+m receiving), squirting, pussy slapping, multitasking (it'll make sense later), multiple orgasms (fem receiving), cum play, dirty talkin' for days, voice kink?

author's notes: Sabrina's smash hit is probably gonna be in the top ten of my Spotify Wrapped this year, and then FNC sends these boys to work a café? this is gonna be fun (and long)! lol I'm writing Keeho as a non-idol here (that might become kinda obvious), and will be using 'Stephen.' also this actually has a bit of a plot with a backstory? a rarity! there might just be a "Secret Sauce" reference if you squint.

🎧 Listen to FLO's entire Access All Areas: Unlocked album (even while reading this hehe)

"thank you all so much for listening and vibing with me!" you excitedly address your small, yet seemingly attentive crowd of customers as they either converse with others at their table, or type away on their laptops, among other things. the gig is a two hour acoustic set with a break in the middle, and you do an incredible job of adding a subtle soundtrack to the ambience of the café. "and don't forget to tip your baristas and cashiers; they work twice as hard as me, and deserve your support!"

you peer at the handsome barista with short black hair and a face that could end the entire modeling industry if he so chose, sporting a pair of specs that you could almost tell were merely for accessory. Stephen looks up from the shop's ordering screen over at you, as if to give a silent 'thank you' for the acknowledgment. like it was the first time you ever did it (you give a similar speech every week).

you had been going to this particular spot as solely a customer for over a year before the owner took heed to the covers you posted on your socials. she figured your soft, jazzy renditions of popular tunes such as Sabrina Carpenter's "Espresso" and Tyla's "Water" would be a nice change of pace from the constant Spotify mixes that normally go through their speakers — and she was right! there could be statistics that documented the uprising of foot-tapping and head-bopping that took place whenever you performed, if ever that was possible.

the person who seemed to enjoy you the most was that aforementioned fine ass barista. one thing about Stephen is that the guy can sing his damn self, and he'd inadvertently let anyone around him know it too! only hired a month after you technically, you grew to like him and his aura – and love his voice. if he unintentionally belted a few little ad-libs during an instrumental break, you'd intentionally loop that break a little longer until he'd stop himself.

unofficial collaborations were a frequent occurrence between you two, and today wasn't any different. you decided to try something you don't do often, and played a song completely instrumental. you follow each other on Instagram, and he mentioned how much he loves the British girl group FLO in his story. he even put "Walk Like This" as his Song Of The Day note before his shift. so after you mentioned to whoever was listening that you're still learning the lyrics to the song as it had just come out, you opted to do a fingerstyle version of "Bending My Rules."

you know who already knew all the lyrics – and the ad-libs – though? Stephen, and as incognito as he could possibly be, he was sangin'! you couldn't help smiling from ear to ear, feeling heat course your face (and maybe somewhere else much further south) as you hear a faint voice coasting through the song like he wrote it. he never leaves from behind the counter, yet each note that leaves his lips and seems to reach your ear only is smoother than the butter that compliments the shop's bestselling croissants.

in a rare occasion of him being a part of the later shift, Stephen clocks out for the night when you're done playing, and is able to actually talk to you for much longer than he normally would. a routine all on its own, he approaches you to talk about the set you just completed, every other sentence accompanied with a compliment on just how talented you are. and every single one of those compliments is reciprocated back from you to him, and today, he's blushing while receiving them!

"you learn songs so fast!" Stephen exclaims with a chuckle as he helps you pack your equipment. "that FLO song literally just dropped."

"I could say the exact same thing to you, Mr. 🎶 Are you coming over~ 🎶," you retaliate flirtatiously, copying the run from the record.

"ooh, okay!" Stephen playfully commends your vocal ability on a song you're 'still learning.' several minutes later, your equipment is packed and being wheeled by Stephen to your car that's parked in an alley on the side of the building. even when the conversation takes a turn after he manages to throw in a couple compliments in regard to your outfit (a classic fall ensemble that includes a leather mini skirt), the song is still clearly in his head as he periodically vamps on the line "🎶 I don't want nobody, nobody like I want you 🎶" from the chorus and bridge. you couldn't help but wonder if this was subliminal messaging, and by the time your hands brush against his while guiding your microphone stand into the back of your vehicle, you found your answer in his hooded eyes.

you were already internally grateful that was the last item you needed to load, and now even more so as you lock eyes with the man next to you. both of you took the hint as you secured your car to ensure safety. entering back inside the café, Stephen takes you by the hand to one of the gender-neutral restrooms that's for the staff. after locking the door behind him, he places you atop the counter.

licking his lips while looking down at you a bit shyly, he caresses your thighs before beginning to push them open, eyes asking for permission. you confirm by helping to lower your bottoms and undergarments to your ankles. "god, you're so wet," is the first and last thing out of Stephen's mouth before his lips meet yours.

instantly melting into his firm kisses, you wrap your arms around Stephen's broad shoulders as one of his large hands land on your neck, fingers softly gliding over the skin in contrast to the way his tongue invites itself into your mouth. with absolutely no protest, you open your mouth, a moan slipping out before even more moans are muffled by the evident hunger of your colleague.

you both are in such a heated rush that you barely have it in one another to briefly explain to each other how you two really got here in the first place. even if neither of your nether regions bothered to care at this particular moment, Stephen helps you discard his apron before he speaks. “I’ve been wanting a morsel of this since I first saw you in this damn café,” he confesses in between longing kisses between your lips and around your neck.

"fuck, me too…" you exhale in response, eyes fluttering and struggling to remain open against his advances. you then registered how this was the closest his handsome self and gorgeous voice has ever been to you, and almost would take this over your weekly check, you were so entranced by it all.

"yeah?" Stephen quizzes as he plants kisses further and further down your body. "have you been wanting to taste me as bad as I've been wanting to taste you?"

by the time he's finished asking this, his glasses are off on the other side of the counter, and his face is eye level with your dripping cunt. your charisma that you display with an instrument in front of you practically never ceases to remain — even when it's someone as attractive (and attracted) as Stephen beneath you. "you're the top flavor I've been dying to try, but it's never on the menu," you reply with a smirk, before shooting him a playful gaze.

Stephen smiles right back at you with his eyebrows raised, biting his lip as he attempts to come up with a witty enough comeback. however, with the clear opportunity sitting right in front of him, he opts to stick his tongue out, giving a teasing lick that sends goosebumps all over your body as a moan forces itself from the back of your throat.

your head bumps against the mirror behind you when Stephen's tongue is willingly trapped between your walls, going every direction but back out. his lips join in, kissing and sucking on your folds, and soon after, his hands grip roughly on your inner thighs to keep your legs open so that he doesn't need to stop… because there's only one thing that will stop him, and he'll go for hours if that's how long it takes for him to receive it.

you're whimpering now, in part because your remaining brain cell reminds you that your impatient, horny asses are still very much in each other's workplace. but also because you can't believe a guy this sweet could be so fucking filthy in anyone's heat, let alone yours. the moans and groans he manages in between licks of varying speeds and intensive slurps send you into some sort of astral projection.

no matter how hard he was trying, your legs shook to a point where they were forcing themselves to close. while Stephen wasn't wanting that, he was too preoccupied to grip his hands on them any tighter. in fact, the hold was loosening to a soft touch that served as a contrast to the way he was devouring you like he hadn't eaten all day.

"you're gonna make me cum, Steph, holy shit!" you exclaim at almost a whisper, fingers wedged in black strands of hair below you. you were slightly startled when he finally let up with a resounding pop, his mouth coated with your juices. that sight alone would've finished you right then and there, but you were secretly determined to hang on a little while longer.

"good," Stephen growls, staring up at you with such salacious eyes that bore into your glassy-eyed gaze. before anything else could be said, you're blankly staring at him as he takes two of his fingers and places them on his lips. acting as a type of lip balm of sorts, he traces those two fingers around his lips before they enter his mouth. you can't help but moan as he moans around them, sucking on them for a brief moment. before you knew it, they were gradually entering your cavern, and by the time the tips brushed against the cervix, that cavern was clenching around the entire length of his fingers.

"oh fuck, right there!" you spit out, hands still in Stephen's hair as you push his head forward. with your eyes squeezed shut, you feel his tongue lick your pussy again, this time collaborating with the ever-increasing pace of his fingers thrusting in and out. he sneaks in a couple more sucks on your folds before you feel heat pooling between your legs. "oh god, I'm cumming… fuck!" you announce mere seconds before sporadically thrusting upward.

while gasping in the midst of oncoming dizziness, you hear gushing along with loud, muffled moaning while still feeling Stephen in several ways. you soon realize that you had squirted all over him, and just like that you felt another orgasm rounding the corner. you feel a hand on the small of your arched back, vibrating as you become deprived of Stephen's mouth and fingers.

you both let some obscene exclamations slip from your lips at one another as Stephen raises himself up from the ground. you get one button undone from his shirt before you taste yourself. he's able to shove his tongue even deeper in your mouth than before while both of your hands meet to undo the belt of his slacks. it's messy, it's nasty, but it's somehow cathartic – even as saliva begins to escape from your mouth.

for a moment, heavy breathing is the only other sound heard in the restroom as pants fall to the floor. "I could pay rent in that pussy if you wanted me to, I fucking swear!" Stephen affirms, making you both chuckle as he pulls his drawers down to join his pants. you remain seated on the counter, frozen and wide-eyed as his hard cock pops out.

there's a short second where you wanna slap the smirk off his face at your initial reaction to his long dick greeting you. yet you wanted it inside you so bad that your hands gravitate to it, and Stephen lets you, his moans low while feeling you get acquainted.

one of his hands are placed on the mirror next to you, and the other joins both of yours around his cock to guide it to your entrance. he bends down to give a couple of kitty licks and wet kisses to your neck, all while the tip of his dick is slapped against your now soaked pussy repeatedly. he continues this until you're calling out his name.

"Steph…"

yet nothing changes, except he inches a bit more of his length atop your cunny, watching juices splash from it.

"Stephen."

he still doesn't proceed any further, smirking at you quite wickedly.

"Stephen! please! fuck me!" you beg, volume be damned.

"louder…" Stephen commands before his lips land on your earlobe, "I want you to be heard on the other side of this door."

"fuck me, Steph, please!!" there's precum dripping from him by this point, and you may or may not have started creaming by the time he bottoms out inside your cunt.

"yes, baby…" Stephen moans out as you clench around him, "let me know how much you've been wanting this dick inside you."

"s-so fucking much," you groan as you feel him finally move, your pussy barely able to handle the thickness.

"so tight," Stephen confirms as he works to increase his speed bit by bit.

"you're so big," you're finally able to tell him in between kisses along his neck.

"yet you're taking me so damn well," Stephen encourages as he continues to drive and pound into you, causing your moans to get louder. "good girl, let everyone know how good you're taking this dick."

"yeah, S-steph, don't fucking stop!" it drove you crazy how much hearing him talk like this was turning you on, and he seemed to grasp that (or he was just on one at this point).

you had no idea how, but not only had the volume of the music increased, but an even more recent version of "Bending My Rules" had begun playing that featured an artist you liked (DIXSON), and guess who even knew that verse well? the guy whose cock was repeatedly hitting your clit.

completely unprovoked, Stephen ran with the synchronic situation as he choked out some of the lyrics in your ear. "🎶 I'm thinkin' 'bout you…… Fiendin' for you…… Yeah, I'm talkin' 'bout you. 🎶"

this song already had significant meaning for the both of you by now, but the both of you could hardly take your moans becoming accidental ad-libs to Stephen's solo performance. you know all too well about letting a singer have their moment, but that bundle of nerves was back in the pit of your stomach just ready to burst.

"f-fuck… h-have I ever… t-told you… just h-how p-perfect you sound, S-steph?" you ask him, staggering over half of those words.

as if on cue, DIXSON's verse started, and Stephen became the feature artist yet again.

"🎵 Girl, you're fucking perfect / Now make me nervous / You give me new purpose / It's more than lip service with you / Mm, we can do this shit too… I'm speakin' a new language with you / Can it just be us two? / If that's okay with you. 🎵"

in between each line being delivered, Stephen drilled incredibly ponderous thrusts into you (as singing while operating any instrument does take practice), and by the end of the bridge, your walls were clenching again at the same time that his dick began throbbing.

"I'm getting close, babygirl," Stephen whines, his forehead perspiring against yours.

"me… too… harder…" you whimper beneath him in time with each jab his cock gives, repeating your last word for emphasis. "harder… harder… fuck me harder, baby!"

before you began begging, Stephen had already begun picking up his pace. however, hearing you call him 'baby' for the first time set him completely the fuck off. his dick fucked into you harder, faster, and even a little deeper. before you could even try and warn him like before, he kisses you just as deeply, not easing up on that pussy for a moment.

his lips were to be a perfect muting device for the clamorous sounds you were preparing to let out. you could only think to yourself, oh god, here we fucking go again, before squirting around Stephen's cock, your cream covering it.

"mmm… oh my god, (y/n), I'm gonna cum…" Stephen proclaims, pulling out and getting the chance to actually see you squirt some more onto the floor before him. "shit… I wanna cum in your mouth."

"and… I want you to cum in my mouth, but I don't think I can move?" you reveal to Stephen, reminding him of just how fucked out (and fucked up) he had gotten you. he reaches underneath you to lift you off of the vanity, but you tell him to wait. he – as patiently as possible – awaits your next move, which was to put his glasses back on for him.

you both smile as he resumes adjusting your position to over by the toilet. you were feeling like the world's biggest whore as Stephen sat down on the bowl, mouth gaping as you wait for his permission to proceed… which he gives you by plopping the tip on your tongue.

you stick your tongue out a bit further, gulping before taking as much of him in your mouth as possible. you strain to keep your eyes open so you can peep his reactions to your hard work, and Stephen does not disappoint. "fuck, fuck, fuck…" he spits out as you moan around his length, receiving evidence of your release all over him, and he clocks that fact as well. "you get to taste yourself too… it's good, isn't it, babe?"

"mmhmm!" you reply before taking in even more of Stephen, feeling the tip brush against the back of your throat. fighting the battle (and losing), you gag around him in an effort to adjust to his girth. seeing the struggle get kinda real down there for you spurred him on, and you eyeballing how he's intently observing you through those circular frames made your legs weaker than they already had been.

if you wanted me to bust again, you could've just said so, you think as Stephen unbuttons the rest of his shirt and discards it by the sink. you moan at the sight of the sweat glistening his skin before dragging one of your hands along it. the other hand begins to stroke his dick with more momentum than either one of you thought you had at this point.

Stephen groans your name before he starts teasing you with something you said earlier. "you said… I had the 'top flavor,' right, doll?"

you both giggle before you answer, "I did," nodding up at him with a grin while your wrapped hand continues moving.

"are you ready to taste it?" he asks, voice beginning to tremble as he threads a hand in your hair.

"I've been ready, babe…" you claim with a seductive wink, placing your tongue right underneath the tip before he could think to maneuver your head himself.

"fuck! here it is…" Stephen pants, his eyes shut before the majority of his load of cum lands directly in your mouth, with a few drops landing along your face. you swallowed a portion before gesturing with your fingers for him to lean closer to you. still panting and recovering, he leans forward.

with the little strength you had recovered, you get on your knees, placing one of your hands on his thighs for support before kissing him. hushed moans of varying degrees leave the both of you as you deliver a helping of his seed in his mouth.

it's still messy, it's definitely nasty, but it's damn stimulating – more than any coffee bean could be.

epilogue

after helping Stephen clean up the restroom, and him leaving to check on the shop before closing it up for the night, you're both back in your car… well, kinda. you're almost completely in the driver's seat, with a leg resting outside.

Stephen? he's completely outside next to that leg, on his knees, planting some final kisses for the night. he started on the inner skin of your thighs, journeying up your stomach, and even giving your breasts some love. you let a couple moans slip from your lips as he bites some hickeys into your neck, and those kisses of each other's lips have not lost their intensity in the slightest, the both of you taking turns biting each other’s bottom lips.

"fuck, Stephen," you breathe out, "go home before we end up doing this at my place."

"that sounds like a good idea for the near future," he notes, standing up with your help before leaning down toward you in your seated position. "speaking of, so I'll see you next week?" he asks, planting one more kiss on a knuckle on your hand, firmly dragging said hand along your clothed pussy lips before letting go completely.

"ahh shit…" you start and trail off before turning on your car's ignition, "you'll see me tomorrow if you're working."

"yeah, I'm working tomorrow," Stephen verifies with a smirk and a kiss on your cheek before whispering in your ear, "and I'll have that double shot of espresso ready for you as soon as I see you."

[krahk]

Blood for Ruin

(Or, Alastor and That One Time He Got Drunk and Forgot He Tried To Make a Black Magic Agreement With a Radio Only For It to Come Back to Him in the Worst Way)

Masterlist

Pairings: Alastor x Reader (She/Her/OFC) as reluctant semi-soulmates via non-consensual deal (on both ends). No use of Y/N.

I understand he is aroace, but I couldn’t stop thinking about this idea so here it is.

Eventual smutty smut happening, but be kind dear god am I rusty.

_________________________________________

Exhausted was simply not what you were - you were so past that, your brain so fried out that you didn’t even know what word you were.

Because if you were seeing smiling figure-like shadows on the walls with long dark tendrils wrapping around your surroundings, and radio static from nowhere, then yea. You were fried.

But hey, it had been a crazy long weekend. You’d just spent the last 4 days cleaning up your hoarder of a great aunts shack in the Bon Temps bayou with the other scattered remainder of her family, rooting through about 4 unidentifiable rooms with confirmed animal carcasses and straight up trash-garbage piled to the ceilings. But since your mother died, any family connection at this point was appreciated, right?

‘Couldn’t be more wrong, but it’s too late now’, you think. It was way too late to back out now, you had something to prove. Your Great Aunt’s remaining son had called you ‘slicker’ because you lived in a town with more than one lighted intersection for Christ's sake. And because you used ‘whom’ in a sentence, that opened up an entirely new thrush of nicknames from your distant cousins. You wouldn’t be beaten down, you guys were almost all done with the cleanup anyway, the only remaining items being that of actual use or salvageable material. A couple family members had taken a few items home already, and since you weren’t particularly close with these relatives you weren’t about to ask for anything until-

Well until the little radio was brought out.

For some reason, the craftsmanship of this radio caught your eye. It was a beautiful dark wood, with intricate swirls carved around the speakers - the entire thing was shaped like a miniature church cathedral window. It was clearly vintage, basically a historical piece, you thought - and you did ask quietly if you could keep it. Your uncle fiddled with it to make it work but it needed some attention. It looked virtually untouched otherwise. It was a gorgeous piece, and it looked like it was a new acquisition to the deceased woman’s collection - there wasn’t a spec of dust visible on it. Your uncle figured it wouldn’t be able to pick up football (and also “why would I listen to football when I can WATCH it?”) he let you take it with you.

So you brought it back to your temporary home, the little motel at the outskirts of town (the only motel even close to the town) and set it on the little desk. And there it sat for 2 days before you finally dove in, trying to figure out what was going on with it. You had deduced it was likely the wiring, and after watching 5 or 6 videos on wiring repair on YouTube (good old YouTube) you were fairly confident a simple repair would take no time at all.

But things made in the 20s were a lot sharper, and more metal based, compared to the newer plastic models of recent years. So when you undid the back panel and attempted to unscrew a fastener around the side of the main component, you had successfully sliced your palm open on an errant piece of metal. And holy crow did it hurt AND gush blood immediately. Even though you had whipped your hand close to your chest almost as soon as you realised what had happened it was too late, there was a fair amount of blood that got on the inside of the machine.

Uttering curses, you’d rushed to the bathroom to grab a couple threadbare cloths and sop up some of the larger drops on the desk. Moving around the radio to the light, you had a clearer idea of where your blood landed. Palming one cloth in your wounded hand, your other one attempted to clean up the mess within the radio. Which is where you noticed the funny little symbols written on the inside of the back panel of the radio, which had lain facedown on the desk as soon as you had removed it. These little symbols looked like runes of some sort, unidentifiable to you. They almost looked like they were written out of blood themselves. It was clearly dried now, but the jagged nature of the strokes and brownish un-ink like material that was used to leave the symbols certainly looked like dried blood might look like on old wood.

You wiped your blood off the radio, and ran the cloth right over one of the runes, making it glow briefly with a green light. Maybe.

Well, that was what you thought you saw. But it was so brief you would have missed it with a well timed blink. The sun was setting, light streaming through the window in hazy little streaks, maybe you saw some prismatic effect? Or maybe, maybe you needed a shower and bed. Clearly if you sliced your hand open on a little radio you were tired. Sloppy coordination indeed. You reattached the back panel to the radio and decided to ignore it until you were in a better headspace.

Radio abandoned, you went and started to clean yourself up and get ready for sleep. But when the lights in the bathroom started to flicker, only to stay on slightly duller than before, paired with a strange static that scratched the inside of your eardrums, you decided to end your shower quicker than ever. Exiting the bathroom, you were chilled to realise that the main room had the same ambient experience waiting for you. And if you focused on the moving shadows from what you hoped were passing cars (electric, judging by the lack of engine noise) there was a solid larger mass lingering on the wall with the dresser and broken TV. One that looked like it had a smile, and glowing red eyes (from a car's tail lights, duh!). Yes, yes. Tired. SO tired.

Calling the front did not help, since the static was so loud when you lifted up the receiver you slammed it back down. Your own cell phone was still charging on the side table, flashing the little dead battery symbol to let you know you needed to be more responsible with your charging habits in the future. It could be another 15 minutes before it was ready to turn on.

So, obviously tired, it was time to attempt to sleep. Hopefully. If you were lucky. It wasn’t enough that the bayou was creepy all on its own, the evening took a sharp turn into scary-town after you started messing with the little radio.

Pyjama-clad and ready to sleep you decided that the hallucinations were exactly what you thought they were - hallucinations and nothing more. Nothing spooky, or supernatural, or dangerous.

But you had been wrong before.

It was the initial crashing sound of the motel room door hitting the wall that woke you up first, screaming male voices really kicking your brain into high alert as you scrambled out of bed. Ending up in the corner facing the opposite corner where the door was, you took in what was happening. 2 men, yelling at you for whatever you had - but you were screaming louder than they were, scrambling for anything in your grasp - just that stupid, fucking radio - but judging by the hot impact of a projectile hitting your chest they were not thrilled you weren’t immediately cooperating. Hand clenching around the radio’s cord you hit the corner and slumped down to the floor, lungs burning and immense pain taking over your consciousness. As your mind faded, you could hear the two men bickering, freaking out over the turn their burglary took. Oh, you being shot was an accident? Stellar. Your vision became hazy, it even looked like shadows were overtaking the men as their arguing turned into painful screaming. Whoever came to your aid was simply too late, though you could appreciate the gesture as you died.

You always thought that you would end up looking down at your dying body when the time came, but from the forceful pull downwards your soul felt, it was clear the afterlife had different plans for you.

Now you weren’t really sure what the hell, like actual, literal, hell, was going on. The impact you felt from your sharp tug into the afterlife, landing on a very detailed rug at what looked like the lobby of a hotel was one thing. The tiny radio following your fall shortly after, merely denting a corner of the wood with a loud thunk was another, cord still clenched in your hand. Oh good!

Dazed, you were immediately hoisted up and hugged - yes hugged - by probably the tallest women you had ever met, and the fastest talking one as well. Rambling about “welcome”, “hell rehab”, something or other about redemption - honestly the look of relief you gave the shorter woman who approached and reined in the other made her smirk as she introduced them in a much clearer manner.

Vaggie and Charlie. Vaggie was a resident of the hotel with her girlfriend, the owner and operator of this ‘Hazbin Hotel’, Charlie, both working at redeeming the souls of sinners and getting them into heaven. There were 2 residents, Angel & Sir Pentious, who were not present, a Janitor Nifty (currently wiping your landing spot with a cloth) the bartender, an angry bird-cat man Husk, and the host (also missing) Alastor. Your open mouthed confusion clearly made Charlie snap into attention (finally) because she finally morphed into a being that was capable of conversation.

“So, new to hell?” She inquired.

Well. Duh. “Um yes. I think I was just shot? Am I actually dead?” You asked, hopeful this was a very vivid nightmare.

“As a doornail!” She exclaimed, chipper with positive energy, “Not that doornails are dead, they don’t have souls like you or Angel but really-”

“Yes. You’re dead. And a sinner, which is why you’re here.” Vaggie cut in, patting Charlie on the back. Charlie smiled brightly and nodded at you.

“Yes, and here you can redeem yourself and hopefully make it to heaven! I have faith in our program.”

Oh god this was too much. The sound of a door opening and closing was faintly heard in the background, but that didn’t stop you from being a speedy spiral into mania.

“So. One, I’m dead. Two, why am I in hell I am pretty sure I was a decent human? I didn’t go to church, sure, but I had very little control over my working schedule. Three, is it supposed to be so freaking loud down here? I’m-“

Intense breathing interrupted - yes, breathing. It was the janitor, her one eye staring at you while she lifted the little radio. ”This is diiiirty” she semi-sang. A horrific giggle was lingering under her breath. You grimaced at her behaviour and dropped the cord immediately, avoiding any contact by proxy with this creature. What a creepy little -

“Did that come with you?” Charlie asked, looking confused as you answered with a nod. “Strange, usually possessions don’t follow a soul into the afterlife…” She trailed off, finger tapping her chin with a frown. Everyone turned to look at the manic janitor essentially vibrating with the radio in her hands.

“Interesting! What has inspired us all to gather this fine evening?”

”Alastor!” Charlie greeted an individual behind you. ”This might be our newest resident…she’s just arrived!” Her hands wildly gestured from you to whoever was behind you. You could see the shadow of the person on the floor, stretching into a long figure that looked vaguely familiar. You were certain your eyes were burning a hole into the carpet beneath the shadow. If the shadow was this frightening what exactly was behind you? The shadow appeared to smile wider as you stared at it.

“Hmm!” Alastor, you supposed, responded. “What an exciting new development why - Oh!” Something had caught his attention. He walked towards the janitor, and you glanced at the back of his figure as he walked past you towards the tiny creature. He was tall, very tall, and slender. There was an ominous presence around him, even the nature of his clothing was fashioned in a way that seemed off. It was unnerving. Broad shoulders tapered into a very slim waistline, his jacket flared out behind him in a style reminiscent of a different time. Head to toe red and black, which was also just…something else. But the other patrons also had an interesting approach to their wardrobes as well, save the 2 women. Maybe that was just…how it was here.

“Now where did you find this delightful little item, Nifty?” He said, his profile coming slightly into your view. Dear god, terrifying. You couldn’t even begin to describe his appearance. Chills ran down your back, and suddenly you remembered you were still in very thin pajamas.

“Eh-hehe a dirty radio sir!” She answered, thrilled with herself. “it came with our new guessst” her eye switching from the tallest, creepiest creature you had ever set your eyes upon to your gaze. You swear you could hear the bones crack in the man's neck as he fired his gaze to yours. You were trapped.

“Is that so?” He began to slowly walk towards you, the room filling with a static hum similar to what you felt in the motel room, your skin tingling as he got closer. It was getting harder to hear the others try and talk to the approaching figure, the hum was getting louder.

“And what,” he started, “are you doing with my Radio, my dear?” His eyes were radio dials at this point, sharp jagged teeth glowing alongside them as his head tilted in an inhuman manner, the cracking from before louder than before.

What? Oh for fucks sake. Fuck your backwater, bayou-residing, rude, nasty, hoarder family-

As your eyes rolled back into your head, your body went limp and you hit the foyer carpet. Hard. For the second time that night

**

Part One : Part Two : Part Three : Part Four