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sukuna-ryo · 17 days ago

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Jjk Men in Fairytale Retellings

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𝕮𝖎𝖓𝖉𝖊𝖗𝖊𝖑𝖑𝖆 𝕮𝖍𝖔𝖘𝖔 <3

(10k words)

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Content Warnings: Cinderella Choso × Fem Prince Charming Reader. This is kinda genderbender. The women follow male gender norms and men follow female gender norms, but they're still women and men respectively. And yes, choso is wearing a dress and panties, that's intentional.

Explicit Sexual Content, MDNI. P in V. Unprotected Sex. Oral (f & m receiving). Face Sitting. Size Kink. Overstimulation. Exhibitionism. Slight Dub-Con. Idk what else to add, tell me if I missed something.

Thank you @daymarenightdream1 , @h0n3ysgh0st and pinkie for being my beta readers and helping with the cw.

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𝔒𝔫𝔠𝔢 𝔲𝔭𝔬𝔫 𝔞 𝔱𝔦𝔪𝔢, in a world where gender norms are not quite what we're used to, there lived Cinderella Choso. He was a soft-spoken, kind-hearted boy who somehow managed to make even the simplest dresses look elegant—duh. His days were filled with chores, thanks to his stepmother, Kenjaku, and his two over-the-top stepsisters, Eso and Kechizu, who treated him more like a servant than family.

That morning, Cinderella Choso was on his hands and knees, scrubbing the already spotless floor, when Kenjaku sauntered into the room, holding a cup of tea like it was a trophy.

“You missed a spot,” Kenjaku said lazily, gesturing vaguely at the floor with the kind of smugness only a true villain could pull off.

Choso paused, tilting his head to inspect the gleaming tiles. “Where?”

Kenjaku raised an eyebrow, taking a slow sip of tea. “Emotionally. The floor doesn’t feel clean.”

Choso blinked at him, then decided not to respond. He wasn’t sure what that even meant, and honestly, he didn’t care to find out. Arguing with Kenjaku was like trying to reason with a storm—it was loud, exhausting, and always left him feeling worse.

In the other room, Eso and Kechizu were bickering loudly over their outfits for the royal ball that night.

“I’ll win over prince Y/N for sure,” Eso declared, holding up a sequined gown that sparkled so brightly it practically blinded Choso from where he was standing. He twirled dramatically, nearly knocking over a vase in the process.

“You? Win over the prince? Don’t make me laugh,” Kechizu snapped, holding a pair of heeled slippers like they were some kind of weapon. “I’ll be the one to catch her eye. You don’t even know how to walk in heels.”

“Better than you!” Eso shot back, his voice rising in indignation.

Cinderella Choso just kept scrubbing, doing his best to tune them out. This was normal, after all. He’d grown up in this chaos, surrounded by people who seemed to thrive on drama. The royal ball wasn’t meant for someone like him, anyway. It was for people like Eso and Kechizu—people who fit into that glittering world. He wasn’t bitter about it. Just… resigned.

By the time the house had emptied and the carriage had rolled away, Cinderella Choso found himself sitting by the fireplace, the only sound the faint crackle of the flames. He stared at the mop leaning against the wall, considering whether he should name it. At least it wouldn’t talk back.

The room felt emptier than usual, and though he wasn’t one to dwell on things, a small part of him couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like—to dress up, to dance, to be seen as more than just the boy in the shadows.

But that kind of life wasn’t meant for him. Or so he thought.

Then, with a loud poof that sent soot flying everywhere, a man appeared. He was tall, broad-shouldered, and shirtless, because apparently magical beings don’t believe in modesty. Tattoos coiled up his arms and across his chest, and he had this grin that could only be described as “murderous.” His pink hair was messy in an I-don’t-care way, and he had sharp, glowing eyes that made Choso immediately question if this guy was here to help or hurt.

“Ugh, look at you,” the man said, sneering as he glanced around the room. “Pathetic. Sitting in a pile of ash like some tragic little loser. No wonder your life sucks.”

Cinderella Choso blinked, taken aback. “Uh… who are you?”

“I’m your Fairy Godmother,” the man announced, planting his glowing staff on the ground with a thud. “But you can call me Sukuna. Let’s get this pity party over with so you can go embarrass yourself at the ball.”

Choso frowned. “Aren’t Fairy Godmothers supposed to be… you know, nice?”

Sukuna raised an eyebrow. “I’m nice enough to show up and fix your dumpster-fire life, aren’t I? Be grateful.”

Choso just stared. Sukuna, clearly unbothered, started waving his staff around like he was conducting an orchestra. “Alright, enough whining. Let’s make you look less… tragic.”

He raised his staff without waiting for an answer, muttering something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like an insult, and in an instant, Cinderella Choso’s plain, soot-stained dress shimmered and transformed. The fabric turned into a soft, flowing baby-pink gown, delicate as a rose petal, with subtle silver accents that sparkled under the flickering firelight. The sleeves were sheer and billowy, giving the outfit an ethereal touch, and the neckline was modest yet elegant, perfectly suited to someone as shy and unassuming as Choso.

His hair, which had been loosely tied back in a messy bun, now fell in smooth waves down his back, held in place by a small, glimmering clip shaped like a crescent moon. On his feet were glass slippers—simple and lovely but with heels that looked slightly impractical, as if designed by someone who didn’t care much about comfort.

Cinderella Choso blushed as he glanced at his reflection in the cracked mirror on the wall. “It’s… nice,” he murmured, smoothing the fabric nervously. “I like it.”

“Of course, you do. I made it,” Sukuna said, crossing his arms and grinning smugly. “Now, let’s get you out of here before I change my mind.”

He waved his staff again with dramatic flair, and a nearby pumpkin swelled and stretched until it became a sleek, elegant carriage. A group of rats squeaked in protest as they were magically transformed into well-groomed horses, their tiny tails vanishing with a poof.

“Rules are simple,” Sukuna said, grabbing a sparkly mask from thin air and tossing it to Choso. “Be back by 3 a.m., or everything goes back to normal. That includes your dress, your carriage, and probably your dignity. Got it?”

Choso nodded, clutching the mask tightly.

“And for the love of everything holy, don’t embarrass me out there,” Sukuna added, glaring at him. “You��re wearing a baby-pink dress to a ball. The bar for failure is low.”

Cinderella Choso felt his cheeks heat up but chose not to respond. Instead, he carefully climbed into the carriage, his hands trembling slightly as he adjusted the skirt of his gown.

Sukuna watched him go, leaning casually on his staff. “Good luck, kid,” he muttered, his voice softer but still teasing. “You’ll need it.”

As the carriage rolled away into the night, Cinderella Choso took a deep breath, his heart racing. He had no idea what to expect, but for the first time in a long while, he allowed himself to feel a tiny spark of excitement.

And so, Cinderella Choso was off to the ball, and somewhere along the way meet you—Prince Charming, the most ridiculously charming woman in the kingdom.

The grand ballroom was in full swing. The soft glow of chandeliers cast a golden haze over the room, bouncing off delicate, crystal glasses and glinting across the polished floors. Guests drifted in and out of conversation, their laughter mingling with the soft strains of the orchestra.

Cinderella Choso stepped into the room, his eyes wide, taking in the scene around him. The extravagant gowns, the glint of jewelry, the laughter that echoed from the walls—it all felt so far removed from his reality. He stood just inside the doorway for a moment, trying to steady his breath. The pink dress he wore clung to him in a way that made him feel exposed and small. His heart raced in his chest, and for a moment, he wondered if he'd made a mistake even coming.

But then, you appeared.

You stood near the edge of the ballroom, casually talking to someone, but when you turned, your gaze locked onto him across the room, and everything seemed to stop. You were in a sharp, midnight-blue suit, tailored perfectly to fit your figure. It was sleek and elegant, with just the right amount of softness, your presence commanding attention without being overwhelming. Your face was soft, your hair neatly styled, and there was a quiet confidence about you that made it impossible for Cinderella Choso to look away.

You didn’t say anything at first, just let your eyes meet his, studying him, before a gentle smile curved your lips. You took a few steps towards him, weaving through the crowd like you owned the space. The sound of the music, the chatter, all faded away, leaving just the two of you in the center of it all.

“Hello,” you said, your voice smooth and warm as you gently took his hand, pressing a soft kiss to the back of it. “I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m Y/N.”

His heart skipped a beat, his cheeks flushing. “I—I’m Cinderella Choso,” he stammered, not sure where to look.

You smiled, your gaze lingering on him. Cinderella Choso felt a rush of heat flood his face under the intensity of your gaze. His hands fidgeted nervously at his sides, unsure of where to look.

“You look absolutely stunning tonight,” you said, your voice smooth and genuine, sending a pleasant shiver down his spine. The compliment made his heart race in his chest, and for a moment, he couldn’t find the words to respond.

His voice was soft, almost inaudible, as he mumbled, “T-Thank you... I—I’m not used to... being noticed.” His cheeks were burning now, and he wished he could shrink into the floor.

You chuckled lightly, your smile only growing warmer. “Would you care to dance?” you asked, your voice inviting.

Cinderella Choso hesitated, his mind racing as his heart hammered in his chest. It took him a moment to realize that he was actually standing there, face to face with you, and he still hadn’t said yes. Finally, after a long pause, he nodded, his hand trembling as he reached out to take yours.

As you led him to the center of the ballroom, the music swelled into a slow waltz, and he could feel the tension in his body, the unfamiliarity of the situation, the soft pressure of your hand in his. His heart drummed against his chest as you moved fluidly in rhythm with him. Your body was warm against his, your movements confident and graceful, but you never rushed him.

The dance wasn’t perfect, but with every step, you guided him, never letting him falter. You made him feel safe in the way you held him, steady and sure, your presence somehow grounding. When you looked at him, it wasn’t with judgment or expectation, but with genuine interest, like you were seeing him for who he truly was, beyond the awkwardness he felt.

“You’re doing just fine,” you whispered softly, your voice light, teasing him just a little. “I’m impressed.”

Cinderella Choso’s chest tightened, but not in discomfort. There was something about the way you made him feel—important, seen—that took away the nervous edge in his body. His smile was shy but genuine. “I’ve never danced like this before,” he admitted softly.

“Then I’m honored to be your first,” you said, your smile deepening. It wasn’t just kind—it was sincere. “We’ll make it memorable.”

You guided him with such care, as though it was second nature for you to put others at ease. The music slowed, but your hand stayed firmly on his back, the pressure warm and comforting. When the song ended, you didn’t pull away immediately. Instead, your fingers lingered on his hand, a soft touch that sent a strange warmth through him.

“Shall we get some air?” you asked, offering your arm.

Cinderella Choso nodded, his heart still racing. You led him through the grand hall, down a corridor that seemed to be untouched by the noise of the party. The castle was vast, but you knew it like the back of your hand, guiding him through secret passageways, showing him hidden corners.

The tension between you was thick, crackling with every glance, every touch. You weren’t making it obvious, but Cinderella Choso could feel it. It was in the way your fingers brushed his every now and then, in the soft smiles that lingered a little too long. He wasn’t sure if it was the intimacy of the moment or something else, but he couldn’t look away from you.

You led him outside to a secluded garden, bathed in moonlight. The scent of flowers was intoxicating, filling the air with a sense of magic, of something otherworldly. You took his hand again, pulling him gently along a narrow path that led to a hidden entrance behind thick vines. There, behind the foliage, was a secret garden—a place no one else knew about.

A beautiful pavilion stood in the center, its walls draped with delicate flowers, the entire structure seemingly carved from nature itself. Inside the pavilion, the floor was cushioned; and soft, fluffy pillows of various sizes scattered across the cozy bed. The space felt intimate, a retreat far away from the watchful eyes of the ballroom.

“This is…” Cinderella Choso’s voice trailed off, his heart skipping a beat as he took in the scene. It was serene, quiet, and so completely different from everything else in the castle. “Beautiful.”

You smiled, removed your shoes, and sat down on one of the larger pillows, motioning for him to join you. “It’s my secret hideaway. Only a few people know about it.” You patted the cushion beside you. “I come here when I need to think, to be alone.”

Cinderella Choso hesitated, then took off his heels and sat down beside you, close enough that he could feel the warmth of your body, but not quite close enough to touch. The silence between you two felt thick, comfortable, like you were both holding your breath.

“I’m glad you showed me this,” he said softly, finally breaking the silence. His voice was quiet, almost unsure, but sincere.

“Me too,” you replied, your voice lower now, almost intimate. “I don’t usually bring anyone here.”

Cinderella Choso turned to look at you, his heart beating faster at the intensity in your gaze. The world outside seemed distant, fading into nothing as you both stayed there, in this small, secret place. You leaned a little closer, and the tension in the air seemed to wrap around you both, like a fine thread drawing you closer.

The world outside could wait. Here, in this hidden garden, nothing mattered. Only the unspoken connection, the pull between you, the undeniable chemistry that was now crackling in the air.

“You know,” you said, voice low and teasing, “If you’re not careful, I might just keep you here forever.”

Cinderella Choso’s breath hitched, and for a moment, everything stopped. He was so close to you now, the distance between you two shrinking with every word, every breath. His pulse raced, and for the first time that night, he felt like he was exactly where he was supposed to be.

The moment your lips met his, Cinderella Choso froze, his breath hitching in his throat. For a second, it seemed like he might pull away, his hands hovering uncertainly at your sides. Then, as if something gave way inside him, he grabbed your waist and kissed you back, his movements sudden and unrestrained.

At first, it was clumsy and rushed, his lips pressing hard against yours as if he wasn’t sure how to keep up with the storm of emotions. His breathing was uneven, shallow gasps breaking through the sounds of your kisses. His hands moved hesitantly but firmly, clutching at your waist and back, desperate to pull you closer.

You melted into him, your hands threading through his hair and pulling him even closer. You could feel his nervous energy in the way he moved, but it only made you smile against his lips. You tried to slow his pace, letting him match your rhythm, trying to ground his frantic energy with the soft, deliberate way your lips moved against his.

When he broke away to breathe, his face was bright red, and he couldn’t meet your eyes, his gaze darting everywhere but at you. You cupped his face gently, guiding him to look at you. “Choso,” you murmured softly, and his eyes widened, his blush deepening.

Before you could say anything more, he surged forward again, more determined this time. His kisses were rough and messy, his inexperience showing in the way his teeth grazed your lips and his hands fumbled to hold you. But you didn’t mind—it was raw, unfiltered, and so very him.

You let out a soft gasp as his lips found your neck, his movements hurried and unpracticed. Your hand slid down to his back, soothing the tension in his shoulders, your touch steadying him as he pressed closer.

Still, whenever he glanced at you, his shyness crept back, softening his frantic movements for just a second before his hands and lips found you again. You tilted his chin up, brushing your thumb over his flushed cheek, and his trembling grip on you tightened in response.

Suddenly, Choso pushed you down on the cushioned floor and climbed on top of you. His wayward tongue grew more unruly in your warm mouth, his actions sending heated shivers to your core. He mewled through his erratic kisses as his fumbling, frantic hands began pulling at your clothes and undressing you.

His movements were quick, almost frenzied, as if driven by a force he couldn’t control. Your royal attire almost tore as he threw it to the garden floor. He pulled back for just a moment, and you opened your eyes only to see the wild, frantic look in his eyes, wide and unblinking, filled with raw urgency and need, as if he couldn’t bear to wait another moment.

His eyes were locked onto the delicate curves of your frame, his gaze particularly lingering on the flushed swell of your breasts and the hardened nipples. His eyes followed his hands as they shamelessly traveled every which way on your body making you gasp out in pleasure. Choso was panting above you, his chest rising and falling as unrestrained desire flickered in his eyes, and it made you shiver with excitement.

His hands moved to his own clothes next. Choso fumbled with the fabric of his dress, his movements rushed and impatient, tugging at the delicate seams and buttons crafted by Sukuna’s magic. He huffed in frustration, tugging harder, and managed to peel off a few layers of the dress. The outer fabric loosened, revealing the smooth undershirt beneath, but the enchanted material still resisted fully giving way. Despite his best efforts, only parts of the intricate outfit now hung messily off his shoulders.

Noticing the frustration on his face, you gently called out through your heavy breaths, "He-hey, slow down. There's no need to rush."

But as if your voice had yanked the beast's attention back to you, Choso's head snapped in your direction. You don't know what happened next, or how, but Choso's mouth was back on your skin. His undershirt joined your clothes on the ground, and a manic, whimpering Choso was pressing kisses all over you. Biting and sucking on your skin, he was leaving large hickeys and bruises as his mouth travelled lower and lower until he found your leaking pussy.

Choso whined loudly, and the vibrations sent jolts of electricity to the steadily building coil in your core. Your entire body shuddered as though someone had pulled your soul out when he started sucking your folds with full force. It felt as if he was making out with your pussy in the same rough and messy way he was kissing you moments ago, his ceaseless actions stimulating your clit as well.

It felt like your mind was unraveling, every coherent thought dissolving into the overwhelming sensation that consumed you. Your flickering gaze drooped down to Choso. His ears and neck were flushed red, eyes tightly screwed shut, with moans and deep groans escaping his lips as if he was the one receiving pleasure, and maybe he was.

It was getting too much, the overwhelming feeling was unbearable. You forced words out of your half-open mouth, trying your best to sound lucid, "Ch-cho... Choso s-stop. Slow down b-baby, 's too much..."

Your voice comes out shaky and breathless. But it's as if your words are swallowed by the air between you, his movements remain relentless, driven by an intensity that seems to blind him to everything else. Your protests falter, mingling with your uneven breaths, as his focus stays singular, unwavering, like he’s caught in a trance that nothing can break.

His tongue thrusts into your quivering hole, as his nose keeps on nudging the sensitive nerves of your clit. He was so shy at first. You didn't think he had much experience in these affairs when you brought him to the hidden garden, but his performance was making you second guess. Still, he seemed inexperienced with how uncoordinated, aimless and chaotic his movements were. But the sheer force in his actions made stars flicker behind your eyes.

The pleasure surged through you, sharp and unrelenting, until it overtook every part of you. Your body tensed, trembling uncontrollably, as your thoughts fragment into nothingness. It’s too much—blinding, deafening, overwhelming—until your mind can no longer keep up. Your senses give way, and the world around you vanishes, leaving you in a black void of sensation.

Your chest heaves as you try to catch your breath, the warmth still buzzing under your skin. A fleeting moment of clarity starts to settle. Fuck, that was just from going down on you?—

But your thoughts are cut off as the sound of clothes rustling suddenly joins the deep, uneven breaths filling the garden.

You open your eyes to see Choso hastily yanking down his slacks and panties in one swift motion, the fabric bunching around his knees. Your eyes fixate on something else, unable to look away. It's beautiful, unlike anything you've seen before.

His cock that sprang out was a pretty cherry pink colour, with veins that trace along his shaft like rivers. Silky smooth skin covered the slight upward curve of his length. The head was a flushed, angry red, as though the heat had spread from within, coloring it with a deep, vivid hue. It pulsed with intensity, a clear sign of the tension building beneath the surface, with his precum dripping from the slit. And the size—wait. No, this can't be right. It's too much. He's massive.

Your eyes widen in realization, a wave of panic suddenly washing over you. Your hands grip the sheets as a small shred of fear claws at your chest, pulling you back to reality. No, no, no—this won't work. It won’t fit. You scramble away from Choso, twisting your body as you quickly turn on your knees to distance yourself. But you feel his hand grip your ankle and yank your body straight back to him.

Your back is pressed against his chest as you feel Choso's entire body weight press down on you, pinning you in place and leaving you unable to move. Then you feel two things sink into you, Choso's teeth in your shoulder and his massive cock in your pussy. Tears prickle at the corner of your eyes as his size overwhelms you, stretching you far beyond what you're accustomed to. It's almost too much, your body tensing as it struggles to accomodate the intensity of him. Each movement only deepens the sensation, both pain and pleasure pushing you to the edge of what you can handle.

A deep guttural groan echoes from Choso's throat straight into your ear. He completely stills for a moment as if he too seems to need some time to adjust to the feeling of being inside you. Then he's rambling, babbling in his pussydrunk state.

Choso's voice was shaky, breath coming in quick gasps as he muttered, "This—this feels so good... so tight... can't... can't get enough of you." His hands gripped the sheets, knuckles white, his words slipping out in a desperate breathless rush. "You feel... incredible. I don't know how much longer I can... this is—this is everything... "

Choso starts plunging into you, his hips snapping against yours, each movement fast, hard and deep. The familiar tightness slowly takes hold in your core. With every thrust the pain melted away and only mind numbing pleasure remained.

Your words tumble out in a frantic, incoherent rush, your body trembling as you clung to the sheets. "I... can't... so good, Choso, feels too good... please, don't stop... don't stop, please..." Your voice was shaky, breathy, barely above a whisper, as if the sensation was overwhelming your every thought.

You're practically mewling as each wave of pleasure blurs the edges of reality, leaving you teetering on the brink of madness. Your body trembles uncontrollably, your breaths coming in ragged gasps as if you were drowning in ecstasy. The intensity was almost too much, a raw, primal force that left you clutching desperately at the remnants of your sanity.

Your body moves against him on it's own, joining in on his rhythm. Choso moans in your ears, and the voice sends more uncontrollable shivers to your core. You force your eyes open as much as you could through the haze of your blinding pleasure and turn your head to the side to look at him. Choso was completely feral, his expression raw and intense. You swore you could see hearts in his eyes, his gaze burning with something wild. His cheeks were flushed a deep red, and he was moaning and whimpering, while mercilessly thrusting in and out of you. He was completely out of control.

His sheer size was making you feel everything as his cock slid against you, reaching every corner and hitting your sweet spot again and again. Your pleasure builds hard and fast, and snaps before you could comprehend it. Your mouth hangs slightly open, drool escaping and pooling on the sheets below your cheek as your head spins with overwhelming pleasure. Your thoughts are scattered, each sensation mixing together, leaving your brain in a muddled haze, unable to focus on anything but the dizzying rush of pleasure flooding your senses.

You orgasm sets off Choso's own as your pussy tightens around him, trembling and quivering, and he cums inside you with a loud moan while giving slow, messy thrusts. The warm liquid pools inside, filling you, and spills out around the base of his cock and on the sheets. Tears stain Choso's cheeks as he starts crying, sniffles and sobs mixing with his moans, and you feel the warm drops on your shoulder.

Both yours and Choso's breaths come in ragged, uneven bursts. Your haze is slowly about to lift, and the trembling in your limbs was just about to subside, but Choso flips you over to face him and starts moving again. He's still hard inside you despite his powerful orgasm and how much he came. His movements pick up their speed, and he whines while sliding in and out of you.

Overstimulation grips your body, and you squirm and thrash underneath him. Choso grips your hips to force your body still as he moves faster and deeper inside you. "Choso... i-it's... too much," you gasp.

He leans down and pecks your lips, and breathes into your mouth, "I know... me too..." before capturing your lips in a deep, bruising kiss. His desperate actions over you don't stop, whining through his own overstimulation, as he pulls multiple orgasms out of you till you lose count and your highs start bleeding into each other.

Every time your vision goes black because of pleasure, and you drift in and out of consciousness in exhaustion, Choso fills you up with his sticky seed till you overflow and he's shooting blanks, while pressing kisses all over your body. This goes on for what feels like an eternity, and your body felt completely drained, every muscle heavy and limp, yet there was a comforting warmth that enveloped you, a deep sense of contentment, your mind floating in a blissful haze.

Choso, now calmer and free from his earlier fluster, was covering you with gentle kisses, murmuring soft "I love you"s as you lay there, blissfully tired and unable to move. His touch was tender, each kiss filled with quiet affection, as if he was trying to memorize every moment.

Suddenly, the deep toll of the palace bell echoed through the night. Choso froze, his eyes widening in alarm as he remembered fairy godmother Sukuna's warning—3 a.m. was the deadline, and the magic would soon start unraveling.

Panic flickered across his face as he sat up abruptly. “I have to go,” he whispered, his voice thick with urgency and regret.

You reached out weakly, your fingers brushing his arm. “Wait... wait till morning,” you mumbled, your voice slurred with exhaustion. There was more you wanted to say—something about a curse, about needing him to stay—but the words came out as incoherent murmurs, fragments of a plea lost in the haze of your tiredness.

Choso hesitated, his expression torn, but the chime of the bell spurred him into action. He scrambled off the pavilion, hastily pulling on his dress. He paused for a moment, looking back at you with a mix of longing and sorrow.

“I love you,” he said one last time, his voice soft but firm, before slipping out of the garden and into the night.

The next morning arose with a bright yellow glow from the east. You stir in the sheets of the pavilion, before slowly opening your eyes to the beautifully painted glass ceiling. The birds were chirping in the hidden garden, and the scent of the numerous flowers swirled in the air.

The memories of the night before came rushing to your mind, every fragment crystal clear except one: his face. You had tried your best, through your exhaustion, to get Cinderella Choso to stay with you till you could see him again in the morning, but he left anyway.

You tried to tell him—to get but a word in—that you were cursed. A long time ago, a lady of magic, offended by the king, had cursed her only heir: you. According to the curse, every morning, you forgot each and every face you saw the day before, including your own.

It was a well-guarded royal secret that only a few were privy to. And you wanted the man who stole your heart (along with the strength in your legs) to know it too. He was gone now, and it would be difficult to find him with just a name without the face. But there's something else you remember, something that even a curse couldn't erase from your mind: his beautiful, glistening pink dick.

Scrambling out of the sheets and into your clothes, before smoothing your hair down the best you could to make yourself somewhat presentable, you stepped out of the garden and went to the palace in search of your aide.

The air in the aide’s office was heavy with the scent of parchment and ink, the flicker of candlelight illuminating his focused face as he worked through a stack of documents. He barely looked up as you entered, his pen scratching against the paper.

“Where did you disappear off to last night?” he asked, his tone curious but not pressing.

You waved a dismissive hand, brushing off the question. “It’s not important,” you replied, stepping closer. “I need you to summon the royal painter immediately.”

The aide blinked, finally setting down his pen to look at you fully. “The royal painter? What for?”

“Just do it,” you said, your tone brooking no argument. His brow furrowed, but he nodded, reaching for the small bell on his desk to summon a servant to deliver the orders.

Moments later, the royal painter, an older man with streaks of grey in his beard, shuffled into the room, looking a little confused.

The painter gave a short bow, his expression perplexed. “Your Highness, what service do you require?”

You stepped forward, clasping your hands together in determination. “I need you to paint something from my memory,” you said, your voice steady. “A man’s dick.”

The painter sputtered and blinked rapidly, visibly startled by the peculiar request. “A p-penis, Your Highness?”

“Yes,” you confirmed, your tone leaving no room for doubt. “It’s vital.”

Though clearly appalled and confused, the painter nodded, pulling out his tools and setting to work as you described every detail of Cinderella Choso’s cock. You spoke with precision, recalling the faint lines on his shaft, the slight upward curve of his length, the veins running along the length, the pinkish red flushed head that was a darker shade than the rest of this cock, and the soft sheen of his skin. The painter’s expression grew more incredulous with each stroke, but he remained silent, committed to the task.

When he finished, you scrutinized the painting, your heart leaping at how perfectly he had captured it. “Good,” you said with a nod. “Now make several copies of it. As many as you can manage within the next hour.”

The painter hesitated, glancing at the aide as if hoping for an explanation. When none came, he sighed and got to work, summoning his apprentices to assist.

As you waited, a royal guard entered the room, bowing deeply. “Your Highness, the King has summoned you to the throne room.”

You inhaled sharply, straightening your posture. “Very well,” you said, smoothing your attire once more. “I’ll return shortly,” you told the aide before following the guard out.

The throne room was as grand as ever, the King seated at its center. Her piercing gaze bore into you as you entered, the tension in the air palpable. “You’re late,” she said, her voice sharp.

“My apologies, Your Majesty,” you said, offering a polite bow.

The King leaned forward, her expression severe. “I summoned you to discuss a matter of great importance. The princess I told you of last night, of the neighboring kingdom, the one you danced with at the start—he would make a fine royal spouse. The union would strengthen our ties and secure our future.”

You hesitated, the memory of Cinderella Choso flashing through your mind. “I met someone last night,” you said, your voice unwavering. “I fell in love with him, and I’ve decided I’m going to marry him.”

The King’s expression darkened, frustration evident. “You would throw away a carefully arranged alliance for some man you met at a ball? Do you even know who he is?”

“I do not,” you admitted, “but I will find him.”

The King’s hand clenched the arm of her throne, her face reddening. “You’re being reckless,” she snapped. “This marriage is crucial to the kingdom’s future!”

“Then perhaps you should have been clearer about that before inviting every eligible suitor to the ball,” you retorted calmly.

"Besides, with the amount of cum inside me right now, I doubt any kingdom would want to marry off their princess to me when my belly swells in a few months." You add with a faint smirk on your calm face.

"You!" The king's anger reached its peak, and before you could say another word, she clutched her chest, her face twisting in pain. “Your Majesty!” a servant cried, rushing to her side as she collapsed into the throne.

You didn’t linger. Turning on your heel, you left the chaos behind, your resolve unshaken.

By the time you reached the training grounds, the knights were gathered in neat rows, their polished armor clinking softly as they practiced their drills. You held up the paintings in your hands, ensuring they all saw the image clearly.

“This is the man I’m looking for,” you announced, your voice carrying across the courtyard. “Compare this painting to the dick of every man in the kingdom. Find him, no matter how long it takes.”

The knights saluted in unison, determination in their eyes as they accepted their copies.

Turning to the aide, who had followed you silently, you gave your next order. “Make an announcement,” you said. “Tell the kingdom I met a man at the ball last night, and he’s stolen my heart. We’ll find him with these paintings. Any man whose dick matches the image will be married to me.”

The aide hesitated, his brow furrowing in concern. “Your Highness, are you certain—” Although he was used to your antics by now, this one was far too ridiculous to not question.

“Do it,” you interrupted, your tone leaving no room for doubt.

As the knights dispersed and the aide hurried off to carry out your orders, you felt a strange mix of determination and trepidation. Somewhere out there, Cinderella Choso was waiting—and you wouldn’t rest until he was by your side once more.

The days turned into weeks, the search spanning every corner of the kingdom. The knights traveled tirelessly, comparing the painting of the glistening cock to every eligible man they encountered, but no match had been found. Each negative report brought a growing sense of worry, a restlessness that kept you pacing through the corridors of the palace late into the night. The weight of your promise pressed heavily on your shoulders. What if you had lost him forever?

Finally, the aide presented the list of remaining houses. “This is the last one,” he said, handing you the parchment with a weary expression.

Your eyes scanned the address. A modest home tucked into the farthest corner of the kingdom. The final hope.

“I’m going with them,” you declared. The aide opened his mouth to protest, but your determined gaze silenced him. The next morning, you rode out with the knights, the journey long and arduous as the distant town came into view.

Meanwhile, in that very house, Stepmother Kenjaku paced the floor, his long robes rustling with every turn. The news of the prince's search had reached even the farthest corners, and Kenjaku was determined to seize the opportunity. He had spent weeks preparing his two daughters, Eso and Kechizu, for the inevitable visit.

“You must be perfect,” he told them sternly, inspecting their dicks. Eso winced as Kenjaku pressed a scale to his cock, the length was far from satisfactory. Kechizu groaned in frustration as another mixture of oils and creams was slathered onto his dick in a desperate attempt to make it more appealing.

“Remember,” Kenjaku said with a wicked grin, “if one of you marries the prince, we’ll live in the palace, and our troubles will be over.”

“Yes, Mother,” they chimed in unison, their faces contorting into forced smiles.

When the knock finally came, Kenjaku hurried to the door, his heart racing. He opened it with a deep bow, his oily charm seeping through every word. “Your Highness, what an honor! Please, come in!”

You stepped inside, your knights following as Kenjaku led you to a modest sitting area in the hall. You settled into the soft couch, your posture regal despite the humble surroundings.

“These are my daughters, Eso and Kechizu,” Kenjaku announced with exaggerated pride as the two boys stepped forward, their hands clasped demurely before them.

You glanced at their faces and had to fight the urge to recoil. The sharp angles of their features and their overly powdered skin were anything but appealing. Their forced grins only made them look more unsettling.

“They’re definitely not the man I’m looking for,” you said flatly, not even bothering to compare the painting. “There’s no need.”

Kenjaku’s smile faltered, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Are you sure, Your Highness? They’ve been preparing—”

Your sharp gaze cut him off. “According to the records, there are three daughters in this household.”

Kenjaku’s expression tightened, but he quickly masked his displeasure with a nervous laugh. “Ah, the third,” he said dismissively, waving a hand. “He's not truly my daughter, Your Highness. A stepchild of my late husband from her first marriage, nothing more than a servant. Hardly worthy of your attention.”

“Call him anyway,” you ordered, your tone leaving no room for argument.

Kenjaku hesitated for a moment before turning to a nearby servant and barking out the order. Moments later, the sound of footsteps descending a creaking staircase filled the air.

When Cinderella Choso appeared, your breath caught in your throat. His disheveled hair framed his face, strands sticking out wildly, and a smudge of ash darkened his cheek. He wore a simple maid’s outfit, the hem fraying slightly at the edges, but none of that mattered.

The moment you saw him, the memory of that night came flooding back in its entirety. His face—his beautiful, soft features, the gentle curve of his lips, and the warmth in his eyes—had been restored in your mind as if the curse had never taken hold. He was the man you’d fallen for, the man whose cock you had spent weeks searching for.

Cinderella Choso looked up slowly, his expression a mixture of caution and something softer—a quiet joy that flickered to life the moment his eyes met yours. A faint blush rose to his cheeks, his lips parting slightly in surprise as he instinctively ducked his head, his hand brushing nervously against the hem of his apron.

“Why... why is the prince here?” he asked softly, his voice barely above a whisper. Though confusion lingered in his tone, there was an unmistakable warmth in his gaze, as if he couldn’t quite believe you were standing before him.

You maintained your composure, though your chest tightened at the sight of him. Giving no sign that you recognized him, you said firmly, “I will personally check him,” standing from the couch with an air of authority.

Kenjaku’s eyes widened in alarm, but he quickly plastered a thin smile on his face. “As you wish, Your Highness.”

Cinderella Choso’s blush deepened, his dark eyes darting between you and the knights before returning to you, lingering just a moment longer than before. His fingers twitched nervously, and he bit his lip, a flicker of shy delight breaking through his confusion.

You stepped closer, your gaze steady and unwavering as it met his. “Where is your room?” you asked, your voice calm but commanding.

“The... attic,” he replied hesitantly, his words faltering under the weight of the moment. His hand rose as if to gesture toward the stairs, but he paused, seeming momentarily flustered by your nearness.

“Lead the way,” you instructed, your tone firm but not unkind.

Cinderella Choso nodded, his movements tentative but obedient. His face was still tinged with a soft pink hue as he turned toward the staircase. There was something in the way he carried himself—a nervous energy paired with a quiet joy, as though he were both overwhelmed and thrilled to have you in his home.

You followed him, your heart pounding in your chest with every step as the narrow staircase creaked beneath your feet.

As you ascended the creaking staircase, the air between you grew heavier, laden with unspoken emotions and tension. The narrow space seemed to close in, your footsteps echoing softly behind him.

Cinderella Choso’s shoulders were tense, his fingers gripping the hem of his apron as if it were his lifeline. His head was slightly bowed, and his messy hair shifted with every step he took. You watched him closely, the faint blush still dusting his cheeks, the nervous sway in his movements unmistakable.

Breaking the silence, you spoke, your voice low but clear. “I hope you remember me.”

Cinderella Choso froze mid-step, his foot slipping slightly on the next stair. He let out a startled squeak, his hands flailing briefly before he caught himself against the bannister. “Y-yes!” he stammered, the word escaping his lips in a hurried rush. His voice cracked slightly, and his entire body seemed to jolt with embarrassment.

But he didn’t look back.

His ears were burning red now, the flush creeping down his neck as he straightened up and hurried the rest of the way. His steps were uneven, almost frantic, as though the very act of facing you might undo him completely.

You bit back a smile, watching him fumble, his shyness endearing in a way that only made your heart ache more for him.

The attic was dimly lit, with only a small window letting in a pale stream of light that softened the space. Despite its modest size, the room was neat and organized, every corner reflecting a quiet diligence. A small dressing table stood to the side, its surface polished clean, with a few simple trinkets placed meticulously. A wardrobe leaned against the wall, slightly worn but sturdy, and a collection of books was stacked neatly in one corner.

The bed, just barely large enough to accommodate Cinderella Choso's broad frame, was tucked under the window, a faded but clean rug beside it. The air was still, carrying the faint scent of the ash smudged on his cheek and the warmth of the space he'd made his own.

As soon as the door clicked shut behind you, it was as if the world fell away. All pretense dissolved in an instant. You stepped toward him, and he barely had time to process before your lips were on his, the kiss urgent and consuming.

Cinderella Choso froze for the briefest moment, his body stiffening. But then his hands found your waist, and he melted into you, a soft whimper escaping him. His touch held the same urgency as the night of the ball, trembling slightly, but the sheer need in him breaking through his shyness.

Your hands roamed his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heart beneath your fingertips. His lips were warm, slightly chapped, but they moved against yours with increasing desperation. Your arms wrapped around him, pulling him closer, as though you feared he might disappear again.

Together, you tumbled onto the bed, his weight sinking into the mattress as he fell back. The window's light framed his flushed face, his hair falling messily around him as his wide eyes met yours. His breaths were shallow, his chest rising and falling quickly, but his hands never left you, roaming across your back, your hips, your thighs, like he couldn’t bear to let go.

Breaking from the kiss, you hovered above him, your breath mingling with his as you stared into his wide, vulnerable eyes. “Why did you leave that night?” you asked, your voice trembling, not with anger, but with a deep, aching hurt. “I told you to stay.”

Cinderella Choso looked away, his cheeks flushed as if the memory stung him even now. His hands rested on your waist, his grip firm but gentle, grounding him. “I... I didn’t want to,” he admitted softly, his voice raw with regret. “But I didn’t have a choice. It was magic.”

Your brows furrowed, confusion flickering across your face. He hesitated for a moment, then continued, his words tumbling out nervously, as though he feared you wouldn’t believe him. “The fairy godmother gave me everything for one night—just until 3 a.m. After that, everything... everything would go back to the way it was. My clothes, my life, all of it. I had to leave before it all unraveled.”

His gaze flicked back to you, searching for your reaction, his face tinged with shame. “I didn’t want you to see me like that,” he whispered. “I wasn’t supposed to be there in the first place.”

You studied him for a long moment, your hand cupping his cheek, thumb brushing over the faint smudge of ash still there. “Believe me, I know,” you said, your voice laced with understanding, a sad smile tugging at your lips.

His brows knit in confusion, but you shook your head gently, your fingers tracing the soft line of his jaw. “That’s a story for later,” you said softly, leaning in to press another kiss to his lips. Whatever questions he had about your words or your curse could wait. Right now, you were here, together, and that was all that mattered.

Just like that your roaming hands were back on each other again. Cinderella Choso kissed you with more fervour than before. His lips frantically moved against yours. His tongue slipped inside, the soft muscle gliding and tangling with your tongue.

Your breathing grew shallower, and your heart thundered in your chest as Choso's soft, desperate whimpers filled the air. His hands fumbled at the buttons of your coat, trembling as he worked to undo them, his touch clumsy with need.

But you caught his wrists, stopping him in his tracks. “Uh-uh,” you said, your voice firm, though a teasing smile tugged at your lips. “I’m not letting what happened that night occur again. You went wild, Cho—You'll let me call you that, won't you? I’d like to leave this house walking on my own two legs if I can help it.”

His eyes widened, his face flushing a deep crimson as he sputtered, “I-I didn’t mean—”

You silenced him with a quick peck on his lips before reaching for a piece of cloth from his wardrobe. His confusion deepened as you looped the fabric around his wrists, tying them securely to the headboard.

“Wha—what are you doing?” he stammered, his voice trembling with equal parts apprehension and excitement.

You smirked, leaning close so your breath ghosted over his ear. “Maintaining some control over the situation this time,” you said, your tone playful yet commanding. “I think we both know you lose all sense of restraint when you’re left to your own devices.”

Cinderella Choso whimpered, his hands tugging weakly at the bindings as you straddled him. His eyes darted down to his maid outfit, and he seemed suddenly hyper-aware of the fabric against his skin.

Taking a moment, you leaned back slightly, your gaze trailing over him appreciatively. “You know,” you said, tilting your head as your lips curved into a grin, “You look really cute like this.”

His blush deepened, and he turned his head away shyly. “D-Don’t tease me...”

“Oh, I’m not teasing,” you replied, your fingers tracing the ruffled hem of his skirt. “We could do this from time to time—have you wear something like this again.”

Cinderella Choso’s wide eyes snapped back to yours, his lips parting in a silent gasp. His embarrassed whimper made you chuckle softly, leaning down to kiss him again, savoring the way he melted beneath you, utterly at your mercy.

You pulled at the knot of his apron, undoing the fabric. Your hand slid to the back of his neck, slowly unzipping the dress, and he shivered at the touch. You give him a sweet, soft smile but the look in your eyes betrayed what you were about to do next. His eyes grew wide with panic and anticipation, his lips parting slightly as he took in small breaths.

You quickly slip his dress off next and settle between his legs. His pretty white panties had a not so innocent wet spot that only grew larger in size the longer you looked at it. Choso lets out a small whine and your devilish gaze met his excited, wide-eyed stare.

"Wha—what are you going to do?" He stammered, and his eyes dart between your lips and the bulge in his panties that was peeking through the translucent fabric.

You grin even wider and chirp, "Exactly what you're thinking right now."

Choso gasps when you pull down his panties, and his hardened cock springs out. It looks exactly like you remembered it—big and smooth with a gorgeous pink tint that's redder at the head. The paintings didn't do justice, the real thing was much better.

You bring your hand up to touch his tip and he shivers. Choso was trying his best to stay still, anticipating what's to come. But when you softly kiss the tip of his cock, his entire body shudders. A loud, high-pitched moan escapes his lips when you sink down your mouth on his length as much as you could.

You use all your strength to tightly grip his thighs with both of your hands, forcing him to stay still while you bring your head up and then glide it back down, taking him deeper this time.

The head of his cock touches the back of your throat and you slightly gag. Your eyes glisten with tears, but you don't stop. You start bobbing your head up and down on his length, which elicits a series of strangled moans and gasps from choso.

Your lips slide up his length, a mix of your spit and his precum covering the shaft. You suck at his head, then hollow your cheeks and go back down. Your actions pick up their pace, head rapidly bobbing, adding to his building pleasure.

With a loud cry, choso cums. The warm liquid that filled your mouth was salty with a slight sweet taste. Your hand replaces your mouth, moving up and down, helping him ride out his high.

You look up at him. His eyes are tightly shut, mouth parted as his chest heaves with the deep breaths. As he calms down, his half-open lidded eyes meet yours. You sweetly smile at him and tease, "Did you like that?"

Choso turned his head to the side and tried to hide his face in his bound arms, flushing this time with embarrassment.

"Yes," he muttered in a small, shy voice.

He then asks, "Are you going to untie me now?"

You shake your head, a playful smile on your lips. "Nope. We're not done yet."

You sit up and start unbuttoning your clothes. Choso's eyes follow your every action as you slip out of your coat, your shirt, and then your pants. You're sitting above him, straddling him, with nothing but your underwear on. Choso's eyes seem too bulge out of his head, and his ears burn redder at your half-naked form, as if he hadn't already seen it before.

You take off your bra next and your breasts spill out. Choso's gaze is fixed on the sight, then trails down to your panties and the noticable wet patch on it. You pull them down, there's a lewd string of your slick connecting to the fabric. Choso gulps at the sight, his Adam's apple bobs on his throat.

"Would you like a taste, my sweet Cho?" You tilt your head and drawl while looking at him. He nods frantically at your words, whining desperately.

"You're so big baby, and as much as I love it, you'll have to loosen me up a little before I take you inside, yeah?" Choso blushes at your words and whimpers, "Ye-yes, please."

You rise and move up to his shoulders, placing your legs on each side and settle your pussy down on his face, careful not to smother him.

Choso moans softly as he eagerly starts licking at the slick dripping down on his tongue. His knuckles turn white the moment his bound hands grip the headboard tightly. His eyes are closed, face flushed like a plum, and his soft whines and groans fill the air, mixing with your moans of pleasure. He looks so obscenely gorgeous between your legs.

Choso's tongue laps at your folds. You reach down and push your fingers in your pussy, and start pumping them in and out in an attempt to stretch yourself out. Choso sucks and lightly bites at your clit and it sends jolts of electricity down your spine. Your back arches as you push yourself deeper to his mouth, the coil in your core ready to snap. You're close, so close.

Choso lets out a low groan, sending vibrations to your sensitive flesh. He's hard again, precum dripping from the slit. He bucks his hips up when he gives a harsh suck to your clit that sends you spiralling, waves after waves of pleasure washing over you as you hit your high. You get off him and collapse to the side, both of you panting side by side.

You don't waste another moment; getting up and aligning your warm, sensitive pussy with his dripping cock and sink down on him, overstimulation be damned. A loud whiny moan echoes in the room, coming from you or him you don't know.

Once you started bouncing on him, Choso felt as though every inch of his skin was alive, buzzing with a heat so powerful it left him dizzy. His mind felt hazy, thoughts muddled, unable to cling to any single thread of rationality. The pleasure overwhelmed him entirely, a thick fog of sensation clouding every rational thought, as if his brain were melting beneath the weight of it, leaving only pure, unfiltered bliss.

Your warm, tight, wet cunt gripping him like a vice felt like it was milking him dry. You lean back, your palms resting on his thighs behind you as you use all your strength to ride him. Your breasts bounce with every movement, and the view is so lewd for our poor baby Choso that he feels like he's gonna cum right then and there.

You through your head back, mouth open as you drool and pant above him. All that sword training paid off, because you couldn't possibly have lasted without all the built up stamina. Choso's loud moans and groans, mixed with your own, ring in your ears, adding to your lust and fueling you to go faster and harder.

Choso throws his head back into the pillow, hands holding the headboard in an iron-grip, as his biceps flex and abs tightens, and he cums hard. His ropey liquid filling you up, and you follow right after, still riding him through both your orgasms.

You pant hard, body slacking to the side, and you look at him while you try to catch your breath. Choso is a mess, tears and drool is dripping from the sides of his face. His jaw is slack, and his face, neck and chest is flushed red. Little sobs escape his lips along with the gasps.

You quickly move to untie the cloth around his hands and collapse on top of him. You hold him close as you pepper his face with kisses. "You okay, baby?" You ask in a soft voice. But just then, before you could react, Choso flips you over. He's looking down at you with the same crazed look in his eyes that he had the night of the ball. Fuck! You made a mistake untying him.

Choso pins both your wrists above your head with one hand, and grips one of your legs up with the other, before thrusting himself back into you. "Cho-choso!?" You call out, startled. His eyes are blown wide with a wild look in them, no coherent thought behind the gaze.

"M-more... more pl-please. Not enough... This is not enough... need more..." He babbles. So you weren't walking out of this house on your own after all. The pleasure he gave you that night was soul-crushingly good, and you loved every moment of it. As much as you want it again right now, there's an entire knight squad waiting for you downstairs, dammit.

He holds you down while ramming his cock deep inside with full strength. His thrusts get meaner with each stroke, pumping pleasure out of you. He leans down, shoving his tongue in your slack mouth, swallowing all your moans. Oh fuck it! The knights can wait.

Each pulse of pleasure that rolled through you felt like a wave of heat, washing away any coherent thought. Your body trembled, each nerve alive, and your mind seemed to blur, its sharp edges softening into nothingness. Every sensation was amplified, the euphoria so intense that it felt like your very mind was being devoured by the pleasure, each wave more intoxicating than the last.

Choso didn’t stop, not until both of you were exhausted and sticky with sweat and cum that came from all the countless orgasms, the intensity of the moment lingering in the air between you. His movements were relentless, driven by an overwhelming need, and each time you thought he might slow down, he only pushed forward.

It was like that night all over again. You drifted in and out of the haze clouding you with each mind numbing high. The sun was setting when you both finally stopped, the golden light spilling through the window and casting a warm glow over everything. The room, once filled with the erratic energy, now felt quiet, the fading daylight creating a peaceful contrast to the intensity that had come before.

Choso was sleeping peacefully on top of you, his soft breaths rising and falling gently against your chest. His weight, comforting and familiar, made your heart swell with adoration. You watched him, his face serene in sleep, so different from his earlier untamed frenzy, and a wave of tenderness washed over you as you held him closer, not wanting to move, wanting to cherish the moment forever.

In the following days, the kingdom buzzed with excitement, preparations for the royal marriage taking center stage. The streets were filled with banners and flowers, and the air was thick with anticipation. Cinderella Choso, now at your side, was treated with the same reverence as any princess, though his gentle nature remained unchanged. You spent your days together, savoring the quiet moments, laughing, and talking about the future; and with his cock buried deep inside you when no one was around.

The royal wedding was a grand affair, a celebration of not just your union, but the love that had brought you both together. As the days passed, you realized that the magic and curse had only led you to something far greater than you could have imagined.

And so, with Choso by your side, you lived happily ever after, finding a peace that had once seemed impossible.

---

Check out the m.list. Which one should I write next?

Do not copy, plagiarise, translate or repost any of my content.

Likes, reblogs and feedback is appreciated <3

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the-s1lly-corner · 2 years ago

Text

How they react to you telling them you're pregnant

Obligatory reader is afab but like most of my posts they're gn/gendered pronouns aren't used

Slenderman;

Cue the confusion

Pregnant?

Surprised more than anything, he didnt think that he could get you pregnant considering you're both different species

And also he didnt think he was fertile; at least not in the normal sexual reproduction way

Kinda just

Accepts it

Now do I think he would be a good dad?

Maybe? He wouldn't be horrible or absent, but some human things are still foreign to him, including raising a child.. so hes probably going to need a decent amount of guidance

I feel like he'd also be a helicopter parent? He already watches you like a hawk, he'd probably start doing the same with his kid as they get older

"Hey (kid name) who's that tall white boy following you??" "Oh that's my dad"/j

Becomes more protective of you during the pregnancy and the weeks after

Takes it in stride tbh

Splendorman;

Pause

Before you start to worry he scoops you up

Also thought it wasnt possible, but is hyped when he finds out the news

He WILL pamper you... may also dip into overbearing territory, though

He just doesnt want you or the baby to get hurt

He says goodnight to the bump later on in the pregnancy tbh

Oh you know hes gonna be decorating their room and giving them loads of toys

Would be a good father but may dip into unhealthy habits

This dude struggles with toxic positivity imo, so that's definitely something that's gonna need to be addressed

Laughing Jack;

Okay obviously ALL of them are probably going to be sat down and told the news, but Jack is gonna need the most talking to given that he probably doesn't grasp the gravity of it

He KNOWS what pregnancy is, he KNOWS what a baby is; but he doesn't know the intricacies of pregnancy if that makes sense

Like he doesnt know about the soreness, or cravings, or how fragile those tiny human beings actually are. Dude already struggles with being gentle with adults

So it's going to require a long and in depth talk about everything that's going to happen if you guys decide to keep the kid

Reaction wise, he takes it seriously. Kind of uncanny compared to his usual silly demeanor

Again, due to him being a lil dumb hes almost under reacting

As a parent I think...

Okay he'd probably kinda suck

He would love the kid but he would be so so so irresponsible I'm so sorry

Gives the kid candy for meals (bro cant cook)

Get that man into some parenting classes PLEASE

Eyeless Jack;

Another "I'm surprised because I deadass thought I was infertile" one, given my whole lore/Hc for EJ

The most worried out of them all

"What if they're like me and are cursed? What if they hate me? What if they grow to hate me? What if-"

He baby proofs his cabin... before insisting that the baby stays at your place primarily (if you haven't moved in with him) because he's scared of his whole... eating people thing

Please give him loads and loads of reassurance, hes gonna need it

He'll work hard to be the best father he can be, though!

He takes the kid out for walks in the woods, teaches them different plants and bugs and tells them which are dangerous

"Oh I don't want to hold them, what if I hurt em?" *falls asleep while holding his baby after reading them a story*

Masky;

You gotta baby proof him and the house im sorry, hes feral

Another "you're gonna have to sit him down and lay down the rules" type deal

Hes already mellowed out around you but he needs to mellow out a touch more for an infant

Hard to gauge his reaction but he seems.... excited? Hard to tell when hes sitting still and wearing a mask

When the baby comes he, like slenderman, also watches them like a hawk

You will walk in on him sitting over their crib at 3am/hj

Surprisingly gentle when it comes to handling the kid, just casually walks around with them and shit

Great for looking after the kid during the night while you rest

Hoodie;

V similar to Masky but he's already naturally calm

Putting this here now before I forget but he would take his mask off to make faces at the baby to try to make them laugh

Mf doesn't take his mask off for you though ☝️🙄/hj

Surprisingly good at calming down screaming infants for some reason

Similar reaction as Masky; hard to read but way easy to guess its positive since he lightly boinks where his mouth would be under his mask to your cheek while papping your stomach

Hes a lil silly

But hes got the spirit

Good dad, me thinks

#creepypasta headcanon #creepypasta #creepypasta x reader #creepypasta x you #slenderman x reader #splendorman x reader #laughing jack x reader #eyeless jack x reader #masky x reader #hoodie x reader

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allastoredeer · 6 months ago

Note

Personally I think Alastor, Lucifer AND Angel are on the pretty boy side of the scale and none of that has to do with their preferences in bed. More like in... How to say it... Body type and behavior? All three are obviously men but don't quite adhere to the masculine/feminine dichotomy.

With Alastor it seems to me that he is closer to "masculine" but not in an alpha range, but in that he sees himself as a "gentleman" and at least a part of him consciously or unconsciously knows that the male representation has more privilege, but he doesn't particularly care as much

AAngel just does his thing, and I think Angel has benefited from and used looking more "delicate" or "feminine" more than once to his advantage in getting underestimated. I think that gender in general is quite fluid for Angel, but not so much because he has thought about it but because living and dead, roles have been imposed on him that he has taken as a mask for himself.I imagine he is very comfortable with himself now but the impression I got is that Angel oscillates between hating and loving his own traits due to how little control he has and how he is perceived.

(I'm thinking specifically about how he talks about his body and how attractive it is but sees himself as only important because of those kinds of things. After E4 it's obviously in a much better place. What I'm saying is that with Angel it's complicated because it's part his own feelings and part coping mechanis)

Lucifer actually exudes an aura of seduction, it's just those bedroom eyes and his whole vibe when he decides he's going to crush this guy he met 5 minutes ago. But I think the show did well to represent a beauty that tends more towards androgynous with him. And as we've already talked about, Lucifer gives off very versatile vibes, I think he would be the middle ground.

I definitely agree that all three of them are on the pretty boy side. Pretty, pretty, pretty boys

(I couldn't find a better gif of Angel forgive me)

Though, I do see Alastor more on the feminine side than the masculine side. He is a gentleman, but sometimes I think people lean too far into him being a gentleman.

Like, not to bring Websters Dictionary into this (Cambridge Dictionary technically) but the definitions of gentleman are:

A polite way of talking to or referring to a man. Obvious one, but not the definition people use.

A man of a high social class. Which, yeah, considering Alastor is an Overlord in Hell, technically he is part of a high social class. But that's not typically the type of gentleman he is depicted as either.

A man who is polite and behaves well towards other people, especially women: This is the one I think people lean on, which I find funny because Alastor is polite and he can behave well, but typically that is only aimed at women. Not people in general. I see him being a gentleman with women, but even then, not all the time - does that make sense?

Like, there are times he still acts like a mean little bastard, even to women (albeit less often) like when Charlie was having a break down in her bedroom cuz she found out her girlfriend has been lying to her for years and she'd essentially doomed everybody she cared about. Alastor had no sympathy for her, he didn't actually care about the situation, he went up there with the sole intent to get something from her. He was blunt, rubbed her situation in her face, and then gaslit, gatekeeped, and girlbossed his way into getting a deal out of her.

Yes, his words were crafted in a way that can seem gentlemanly, but that doesn't mean he was being a gentleman. He wasn't being polite, he was being a sassy, condescending little shit.

And I'm not saying Alastor isn't a gentleman, he definitely acts like a one when he wants to be, especially around those he likes or respects (like Rosie, Niffty, and Zestial - and yes, even Charlie and Vaggie). But like...most of the time? He's just a smooth-talking bitch with fancy words (affectionate).

Don't get me wrong, I definitely see Alastor as being a gentleman, but I don't see him being as much of a gentleman as people make him out to be, which actually might be the reason why he so often loses his clownish, trolling nature in fanon, because that gentlemanly characteristic he's been given implies some level of general politeness and good behavior, which cancels out when he's trolling and/or insulting people. He can be more passive-aggressively and subtle about it, like he did with Lucifer, but I still wouldn't call that being a gentleman.

I agree with Angel though! I think, while Angel has benefitted looking more feminine, he also enjoys presenting as feminine. I can see him being very fluid in it.

"the impression I got is that Angel oscillates between hating and loving his own traits due to how little control he has and how he is perceived."

THIS! ⬆️ Definitely agree with this. 100%. Perfectly said.

As for Lucifer, I do see the seduction side of him, even if I think it's overblown at times. He has amazing bedroom eyes. I agree that there is an androgynous beauty to him, but at the same time, idk a lot of the time, he still came off as very masculine to me. Could've been the way he carried himself. Could've been his voice. Could've been the way he spoke. Don't know for sure.

I think Lucifer can fluctuate before feminine and androgynous, but overall, he felt masculine most of the time.

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smegmafactory4ever · 18 hours ago

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https://www.tumblr.com/smegmafactory4ever/760320082464374784/hypothetically-speaking-if-andrew-tate-had-a?source=share

Alright, I'll take the bite and answer your question.

Would you still be gay if you fucked Tate's wet little pussy? Well, it depends on when Tate got his pussy. Was he born with it, or did he decide to have it surgically installed in his body? So we got

1. Ftm Tate and

2. Cis Tate with a vagina

I think both trans Tate with a vagina and cis Tate with vagina would identify as male and see themselves as male. So we will classify them as such.

Plus, there's different ways people view sexuality. To keep it simple, I will only use two categories.

1. The pro-trans view

2. The anti-trans view.

The pro-trans view is very simple and so I will keep it short. This way of thinking believes sexuality isn't determined by biological factors like genitalia or such, but rather on the gender identity. I believe you already know what I'm referring to, so I won't waste my time explaining it. If we were to follow this way of thinking, you would still be considered gay if you fucked both types of tates with vagina because both Tates identify as male and because you're fucking someone who identify as male therefore making the sex gay and making you gay.

Now the second option. The option that believes you are the gender you're born with and no amount of surgery will change your inante sex. These groups of people most commonly believe that trans people who undergo surgery (yes, even the bottom surgery) are still the gender they were born with. I also like to mention (or, rather, remind everyone) that these people thinks it's gay if a guy fucks a fully transitioned trans women (yes, even with bottom surgery).

If we were to follow this way of thinking, you would only still be gay if you fucked Tate who made his penis into a vagina. By following this view of sexuality, cis Tate with a vagina is still male who just has an inverted penis. If you fucked FtM Tate then you would be considered bisexual. Because FtM Tate is born as a woman.

But it doesn't matter if you're gay or bi for fucking Tate's wet little pussy. Because at the end you're just retarded.

Somehow this is so much more mentally ill than me getting horny for Andrew Tates tight little pussy wtffff man

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mercillery · 7 months ago

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DANTE WITH A SHY S/O

WARNINGS: GENDER NOT SPECIFIED + TOXIC STUFF

NOTES: Credits to frit_2 for the beautiful fanart <333

╰┈➤ ❝ I could devour you whole, and yet you hesitate. How delightful. ❞

No one could have ever imagined a man like him being with someone as timid as you, not even his own siblings. He’s the very embodiment of pride and evil. And then there’s you—an incredibly timid and shy soul who somehow ended up with someone so diametrically opposed to your nature. It’s an extraordinary and baffling pairing, so much so that it defies all logic and expectations.

Your relationship with Dante is definitely shaped by a constant play of power dynamics. Dante thrives on control and dominance, not just in his professional life but also personally. Your shyness and gentle nature provide a counterbalance, creating a dynamic where he often takes the lead. Depending on how you feel about it, this can either be a good thing or a bad thing—a bad thing because you may want to have your own voice, but Dante's leadership completely overshadows it. But most shy people might prefer having someone take the lead for them, right? If that's the case for you, then there's no need to worry—Dante will gladly take on that role. He's been doing it his whole life and has no problem continuing, especially for someone he so dearly loves. His natural confidence and ability to steer situations make him well-suited to guide you, leaving you with little to no worries about taking the lead on anything.

Dante is extremely possessive and protective of you, maybe even more so than he usually is with other women because of your timid nature. While this can sometimes feel suffocating, it also means he is always there, ready to shield you from any danger. His protectiveness doesn't come from a place of gentle care; rather, it's driven by a desire to keep what he considers his from any harm or interference. In Dante's eyes, you are a precious possession, and his protective instincts are fierce and unwavering. Again, this intense possessiveness can be overwhelming, but it also means you are constantly under his vigilant watch, never left to face challenges alone. I guess this is another thing where it’s up to you whether you like it or not.

It pains me to say this next part, but I have to keep him in character, you guys. I’m sorry. 😞

Dante definitely has expectations, and they're pretty high. Your shyness sometimes makes it challenging to meet those expectations, which can lead to him trying to change you—sometimes forcefully. Basically, he might try to mold you into his ideal woman. He'll push you to be more confident, even if you really aren’t feeling like it. However, these little conflicts usually don't last long. In the end, he might actually decide that your shyness suits you better than confidence anyway. Still, these mini-conflicts pop up in your relationship from time to time, and that can get pretty frustrating. It's like a cycle—you clash over your differences, he tries to change you, and then things go back to how they were until the next time. It's not always smooth sailing, that's for sure.

Dante is a master manipulator, and he sometimes uses his charm and power to influence your actions and emotions. He knows how to exploit your shyness to his advantage, subtly guiding you to rely on him more deeply. Over time, this creates a bond of dependency, where you find yourself increasingly drawn into his world and influence. This is the part where I told you how he believes shyness fits you better than confidence—because as much as he loves confident women, he absolutely eats up the way you’re dependent on him, something he craves more and more by the day even if you’re already as dependent on him as one can be.

Being Dante's lover means you're always close to the other members of the Dark Triad. This might be your very own personal hell because your shyness often makes you vulnerable in such a dangerous and intense environment, but Dante's influence provides a shield of protection around you! But still, you have to navigate the complexities of their group dynamics, which isn't easy. Earning the wary respect of those around him is a delicate balance. They know you're important to Dante, so they tolerate you and watch you closely. This constant scrutiny adds another layer of difficulty, making it even more crucial to find your footing in a world where power and loyalty are everything.

In summary, being Dante Zogratis' shy lover is a journey filled with intense emotions, shifting power dynamics, and deep, albeit complicated, affection. It's not always easy, and it certainly comes with its fair share of challenges. But at the end of the day, you're his golden possession, standing out among all others. That unique bond, for better or worse, sets you apart and ties you closely to him in ways that few others could ever understand. You’re the only case where he’ll gladly nurture you instead of crushing you—like a flower.

#dante zogratis x reader #dantezogratis #dante zogratis #zogratis #zogratis x reader

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prismatoxic · 5 months ago

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I know you've been having oc brainrot recently, (which, fucking epic btw I just now found out about those guys and they're really fucking interesting too) I was just wondering if you had anything sitting in your brain about promises to keep specifically, something about them that you just can't stop thinking about? Or a thing you really enjoy about their dynamic? Even something completely unrelated to chilaios that you always think about. I'd rlly love to hear abt what makes you tick!

this is such a nice ask wtf

glad you like the sillies, they fill my brain with worms. but as for ptk and/or chilaios...

i do still rotate ptk in my mind fairly frequently, and was actually re-reading it recently so try and get back into the headspace for it. (i got to chapter 4, i have to get back to it soon.) i do have a variety of disorganized thoughts about it

i've been deliberately drawing out the sex stuff, obviously. to tell you the truth i'm not someone who's beholden to realism; i chose to have them actually work their way up to penetration, and actually realistically negotiate the daddy kink, because i thought it fit the tone of the story and would draw things out in a satisfactory way. it also gives me time to explore the different ways their inexperience manifests, show them learning each other's bodies and desires, and explore chilchuck's view of his own body and his relationship to his gender via sex over a longer period of time.

which brings me to another part i put a lot of thought into--chilchuck's gender! i am a fan of a lot of interpretations of him, both cis and transmasc in ways other than what i've been writing. i have plans for at least one fic where he's post top surgery and on T. but i chose to make him pre-everything in ptk for a few reasons, and i'm honestly really pleased with the portrayal. some things i haven't gotten to mentioning yet are that half-foot names are considered unisex (not a headcanon i always go with, but i am fond of it), and he did voice training after he came out. it was more accessible than, like, hormones, at least back in kahka brud, and then he ended up pregnant anyway which delayed doing anything. eventually he decided he didn't really need any of it, anyway. (sorry to deprive everyone of tdick chilchuck 😔.) i like exploring his dysphoria, where it exists versus the many places where he's moved past it, his relationship to sex as a trans man and his concerns about a gay cis man wanting him... while i do insert some of my own experiences into the narrative, chilchuck's transgenderism does manifest in several ways mine doesn't, and it's really fun to figure out what makes sense for him.

speaking of things that are fun to figure out: worldbuilding!! i was told early on that the casual inclusion of "the dungeon age" as a phrase was a really genius method of suggesting the state of the world without exposition, and it very much went to my head, lmao. i do exposition every so often, but only when someone in the conversation doesn't already have the information. so laios explaining monsters and their history, and chilchuck explaining the social structures around half-foots and the differences between kahka brud and the northern continent, are easy ways to try and build on the world i've made--make readers see my vision--without it seeming too out of place. i do hope i'm doing that well, i worry about it when i'm not being subtle, lmao.

other than that--i've set up several plot threads i intend to follow through on later. i really enjoy calling back to earlier things, big or small, and using them in ways people might not expect. (like chekov's plastic wrap from chapters 3 and 10. sorry, chilchuck.) i also thought of a new one while rereading that i think will slot into the narrative nicely. it's going to be a fun ride!!

i hope any of this was interesting :')

#tox answers #fic: promises to keep

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tyrannuspitch · 10 months ago

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okay i've used the word homophobia to talk about a specifically bisexual character too many times recently, so let's talk about potential manifestations of specific *biphobia* in asgard.

please note that i have done no extra research on this (yet?), i'm just extrapolating from what i know about historical ergi stigma (and what i've already extrapolated from not very detailed info on that!), so this is firmly historically *inspired* fantasy territory.

i'm going to leave aside the matter of gender-conforming stone top msm for the moment, because while they are a group who Exist, they're pretty distinctly queer by modern western standards and straight by asgardian standards, which is kind of messy and not the central point here. (also, top/bottom/vers is not a question applicable to all possible sex acts, so the exact requirements of your stone top no-homo-ing are unclear; and the question of identity based in action vs identity based in desire is also possibly complicated, imo a lot more complicated than people tend to give it credit for... it's just super messy okay.)

instead, as the closest equivalent to "bisexual men", let us consider men who a) are definitely queer by asgardian standards (feminine and/or interacting with men as a vers or bottom) and b) are interacting romantically/sexually with women.

a number of possibilities for an asgardian opinion on them:

1: modern-style bi erasure. pffft, this relationship is clearly fake. a queer man could never be a REAL partner to a woman, so either she's covering for him out of pity or he's fooled her.

on one hand, i feel like this is slightly less likely than in the modern day, because it does seem to centre attraction as definitive of queerness, and hence the idea that you can only engage with one gender. on the other hand, the idea that queer and straight men are deeply, fundamentally different with no overlap is very affirming to straight men. so perhaps this could still be one manifestation.

1b. bi erasure specifically through inadequacy. it's not that we don't think queer men WANT women, it's just that they'll never be good enough for them. maybe he's got her fooled for now, but she'll realise soon enough.

these two options mostly invite ridicule, but could escalate into violence towards either partner to try and "prove" what a "real man" is.

2. a sense of threat / unfairness. women are only meant to like masculine men, but this feminine man DOES have a female partner. how? why is this feminine man reaping the rewards of masculinity?

2a. in which the fem man is a usurper and a sinister, dishonourable threat who is stealing/corrupting the woman. the woman is assumed to be victim but probably also victim-blamed, like an antieffeminate spin on the "woman hate nice guys" trope.

2b. in which we do Gender Arithmetic and decide that a fem man could only possibly be partnered with a masc woman. now the woman is the sinister usurper of masc/male power, and the man is the weak/foolish traitor allowing it. in theory, this relationship would be comedic, but actual examples of it would be extremely threatening.

this also raises the most interesting possibility to me - an attitude parallel to modern mononormativity, but instead of claiming that you can only truly be attracted to one gender, it claims that you can only truly play one gendered sexual role. a queer man must ALWAYS be a fem sub bottom, whether his partner is a man or a woman - so a man being queer proves a male partner of his straight, but makes a female partner appear queer too. which from a modern perspective is pretty wild!

anyway. these two options frame the relationship as a more direct threat, and as such, are more likely to result in violence (or to result in it sooner, or worse.) this is especially true if both partners are being interpreted as queer here.

lacking any historical info as pointers, i feel like all of these options are fairly plausible. and all, independently, pretty fucked up.

i'm not sure how to wrap up this post, but in general, when considering ergi stigma, i think it's important to account for the fact that (perceived) gender expression is central, not attraction, so being in an m/f relationship is not necessarily going to do much to protect you. which is also true of modern real-world biphobia to an extent - people can and frequently do experience biphobia in m/f relationships, and i'd be willing to bet there's at least one modern real-world example of every single specific attitude i described here, even if they're not all common. but the irrelevance of relationship status does bear repeating, especially when the central definition of ergi is often euphemised as "passive homosexual". like, yes, but no. it's not just about that act. it's about the gendered implications of that act, which, once acquired, can set you apart forever.

#space viking tag #meta #s: myth + history #(tangentially)#th: worldbuilding #(bc i am just making shit up now)#th: ergi #th: gender + sexuality #ch: loki #(not directly. but he is the fem bi man who prompted these thoughts)

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gon-and-killuas-mother · 2 years ago

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cishet white guy nursing student had a fascinating (and endearing) reaction to my experiences with hospitals

thinking about last week when i did the second queer-centered patient simulation for the new LGBTQ+ program at our university hospital. this is the same one i helped develop, and it's the first of its kind in our state (which is crazy!! i'm part of something groundbreaking!!)

at the end of it, the two other "patients" and i had to join the debrief, to share our impressions and advice with the students.

for the most part, as with any student, they were all nervous to interact with something new without any of the history or context, and all of them held a sizable fear of offending us. but each of them did wonderfully and treated us like any other patient: like humans.

one of the students was a guy in his thirties, and though he wasn't assigned to me he still listened to everything i had to say to all the students.

first i went "Congrats, y'all just met some queer folk!" as an ice breaker, bc i got the impression that most of them hadn't interacted with (openly) queer people before.

i also let them know that 1) they had the hard job when it came to pronouns; i don't refer to myself in the third person, as it's just me, myself, and i. and 2) don't worry about being accidentally offensive, bc if we got offended every time we got misgendered then every day would be exhausting.

and then, i ended with something a bit more personal but explained that many, many queer and trans people went through something similar.

i said, "Please understand, going to the hospital is a frightening experience for a lot of queer folk. Sometimes, the only way to ensure our safety and treatment, is to pretend I'm a girl. Until I know for sure I can trust you, I remain "undercover". It's not comfortable, but it's better than fighting for my identity every time I see a doctor."

the student mentioned before, the cishet white guy in his thirties, apparently got stuck on that. during the final round of comments, he spoke up and looked at me with a genuinely distressed expression.

"You mentioned you have to default to your assigned gender just to go to the doctor?" he said. he's a tall, broad man that had to twist and fold into the desk chair, and i guess he'd been working already from how frazzled and sweaty he was. nothing about him looked comfortable, but his expression, though pinched with concern, was open and listening.

"My current PCP still believes I'm a girl," I replied. "I've known him almost my whole life, but he's never given me any indication I can trust him. He's a kind old man, but there's always a fear that if I come out to him, then I won't receive the treatment I need. It's not a guarantee, but this has happened to many trans people before."

The concern in the student's face turned to genuine frustration. "I'd never considered that before, that's just," he tried. "That's just not right."

i'm reminded of the first time i read "The Ones Who Walk Away From Omelas" in high school. our English teacher wanted us to decide for ourselves, would we stay in the utopia that depends on the suffering of one person, or leave?

a surprising amount of my classmates said they'd stay, bc there was nothing to be done about the one in suffering. and yeah, most of the class were white middle/upper class cishet people

i was horrified. when it was my turn to answer, i said, "I would leave."

"Why?" my teacher asked.

"Because it isn't right," i insisted. i couldn't put words to the disgust i was feeling. how could i possibly remain somewhere i knew for a fact relied on suffering to exist?

the teacher tried to get me to think past "right and wrong", or at least to find words to explain why this scenario was so wrong to me. and even then, i knew he was in agreement with me. but it was a philosophical question designed to make the reader think, to examine their beliefs when faced with a choice that many claim impossible. and the teacher informed us that our society is already like this due to colonialism and capitalism.

but i was stuck, because this was the first time i saw just how many people were ok with Omelas, and i got sick to my stomach so couldn't get past "This is just wrong, it's wrong!"

my twin brother, who had the same class with me, had what i thought was the best and most practical answer (and i was so so relieved)

"I'd walk away," my brother said. "I'm not going to rely on someone else for my happiness, not if I can help it. My home and health will be my own responsibility."

that nursing student had his Omelas moment. he'd never had to consider if he could trust his doctor or not, he'd never had to fight for treatment just because of his gender or sexuality. but he finally saw the metaphorical unnamed human being suffering in silence as the rest of society went on with their blissful lives.

i don't think i've ever been so happy to see someone so frustrated. and i made sure to tell him how much i appreciated it, it's not something you can easily explain to cishet people but he caught on fast enough that i'm fully convinced he's going to be a kind, compassionate nurse one day.

#tink rambles #queer stuff #happy pride 🌈#also shoutout to the black woman in my group who had to be late thirties early forties #it wasnt part of the script but she and her assigned partner asked if i'd ever considered or attempted suicide #so i 'broke script' and told them about my real suicide plan i'd had in college #i'd never attempted it but i was so miserable that having an exit strategy gave me a sense of control #i DID make the plan as complex as possible with too many steps for me to easily achieve #and this lady looked in my eyes and leaned forward and told me #with all the love and warmth of a black woman that even if you dont know her you cant just tell how much she cares about YOU #and she said 'we are here for you and we are so proud of you for making it to today'#cue me blinking back tears bc i wasnt prepared for that!!!!

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pregcule · 2 years ago

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Silly Little Pinned Intro Post

Hi! Though all of us have SFW personal social media, we decided it would be fun to create a Tumblr account to chronicle our pregnancy journey as a polycule including the sexy aspects of it since we all have pregnancy kinks of varying sorts. Here we are introduced in alphabetical order!

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Guess I’ll be starting this off. I’m Charlotte, I’m 32 and I’m a trans woman who uses she/her pronouns. I’m a stay-at-home mom who also runs an Etsy store selling LGBT-themed fibercrafts.

Glenn. 31. He/they. Butch. I’ve only started dating these folks recently but I already feel very valued and loved. I’m not currently pregnant but I had a child with a previous partner.

Name’s Frankie. I’m 29 and I use she/her and he/him pronouns, just be sure to mix them up. I’m the resident girlboy fagdyke and I’m currently pregnant with twins. I work as a tattoo artist and I’ve also got a lot of tattoos and piercings myself.

I’m Horatio. I’m 27 years old and I’m a pan trans guy who uses he/him pronouns. Even though I’m pregnant I’m still hard at work pursuing my PhD in English, and considering that I had my first kid while I was still in grad school I think I can get through this. I’m married to Judah.

Jo. 37. She/they. Trans butch. Probably won’t be posting here much. I work as an electrician.

I’m Judah. I’m 26 and I use he/him pronouns. My husband likes to call me “cis+” because I went through the process of questioning my gender before coming out the other side still identifying as a man. I met Horatio in college and I knocked him up while he was in grad school, oops. I’m a stay-at-home dad.

Sup. I’m Nadia and I’m 24 and I use she/it pronouns. I’m a trans girl and I got a super cool surgery that means that I can carry a child. I’m currently pregnant with my first kid and I’m nervous but mostly excited and grateful. I also stream on Twitch.

I’m Roxxi! I’m 27 and I use xe/xem and it/its pronouns, but you can basically use any neopronouns for me as long as they’re fun :3. Cringe culture is dead and I killed it myself, I’m a scene kid who’s all grown up now and, unsurprisingly, I’m pregnant :3.

Heyyy I’m Spencer. I use they/he pronouns and I’m 22. I met Nadia at a con and the two of us hit it off pretty quickly and well the rest was history. Just a hairy pregnant trans guy cosplayer I guess.

---

Some of us may end up posting on this blog more than others. Feel free to send us asks and we’ll try to answer all of them in a timely manner.

[Disclaimer: this is a pregnancy kink roleplay blog. All the characters and events that are depicted are entirely fictional.]

#pinned post #tmpreg #tfpreg #nbpreg #fpreg #mpreg #preg kink #pregnancy kink #nsft #nsft ask blog #preg rp #pregnancy rp #pregnant rp #pregnancy roleplay

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homiro · 2 months ago

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Today is being wildly eventful and I'm just high enough to spill on here

- Woke up at 4am after going to sleep at 2 and couldn't fall asleep again because stress and lack of meds and also sperm donor being an egotistical ungrateful piece of shit

- A friend paid for my meds so I went to the city to get them

- Got an email from shitty prof saying we have classes tomorrow but I can't fucking go especially since it's not even a real fucking class and I don't have money to come to the damn city again

- For some reason ADHD meds are hard to get without ordering them and it was sold out or something in 6 different pharmacies. Save for one who miraculously had one bottle

- I was crying by then and had to walk a lot

- Decided to go to a church to feel the energy maybe shake off the goddamn evil luck

- Unsure if that worked

- Walked to get the meds and had to keep focused all the way because everything was overwhelming

- Got meds, then went to sit and have some tea

- While having tea a guy and a girl sat down at the table in front of me and started talking about the wildest stuff while the meds hit for me. She looked and by the sound of it was some sort of mini IG model and he looked like he was part of a podcast. She was wearing foundation two shades lighter than her skin (she was white, mind) and it was absolutely caked and I don't mind saying that because she randomly started slut shaming other women while the guy just laughed awkwardly. Then they started talking about jail and torture. I think they both had ofs because they kept talking about taking pictures and "doing things for money" before the random jail talk

- I wasn't hungry at all so all I had was a cup of caramel coffee and a cookie from Subway

- Decided to take the bus because it was cheaper than the Uber and I was in no condition to walk more especially considering that I still have to walk home (on the train rn)

- At the bus stop I stood up to let this old lady sit and she was very grateful

- Lady didn't know my gender and said like 'oh thank you sweet girl or boy I can't tell but you look lovely'. Made this miserable week feel less shit. Yes it's only Tuesday. Pray for my ass I guess lol

- Went to get some drawing paper for my brother. Some old man at the shop was asking the clerk for glue and she pointed him towards the glue but apparently he wanted dentures glue lmao and was trying to get it from irl AliExpress

And that's all for now, let's hope the rest of the week is mostly uneventful because I'm losing my mind already

My phone also said: gender.

- Adding because it's still going. Someone on the train is becoming the joker over a cancelled appointment very eloquently calling out incompetence absolutely spitting bars still going slam poetry who barely even stuttering goddamn power to this person. And someone was singing the Homer Simpson Spider-Pig song and is rooting for this person.

-Update: Made it home. But not before more wacky stuff. Saw this old lady who had some cats and was doing crochet in her van and said my sperm donor should die while saying she hoped god blessed me my brother and my mother and also my uncle and showed me this religious pamphlet thing. Then right after I saw a man training some sort of bird to be outside. After that I saw a man with his goats and finally I got in the house intact somehow.

Nobody cares but look at the goats. Yes I'm very rural and my phone's quality is pretty bad. Adds to the charm. All the goats had bells.

#homiro said some shit #random shit idk #not having a good time but at least i got my meds #but i swear my days can never be normal and this week is feeling like a lifetime #long post #queer #intersex #androgynous #personal

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thranduilsperkybutt · 3 years ago

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GIRLS ON FILM

Photo sources: 1 | 2

Pairings: Steve Harrington/Reader

Warnings: NSFW; smut; fluff; amateur corn production; literally no proof-reading; plot? what plot?

Word Count: 6,001 words

Reader Gender: Female

Author: Meg

Summary: You need a subject for your photography class assignment. Luckily, your boyfriend is more than willing to help you out. Some pictures, however, might be better off left between just the two of you...

A/N: Caught you in 4k 📸 Had to bang this out before volume 2 crushed my soul, so, here you go 🤡🤡 I’m in full clown-mode denial that anything is going to happen to my faves at all rn---

Hoisting your bag onto your arm, you make your way out of the lecture hall, still dwelling on the newest assignment your professor had given out. You were supposed to photograph someone important to you in your own unique portraiture method, which had set off a few groans in class when the professor had first announced it. There were clearly several people who had no idea who they were going to make the subject of their assignment, meanwhile your mind had immediately gone to one specific person.

Steve Harrington was perhaps the most important person in your life right now, which makes sense, considering your relationship with the man has been serious since last March. It was perhaps the only thing he was serious about at this current time in his life, with how he was still undecided on his major after nearly a year and a half’s worth of college courses.

His father wanted him to go into tech, but Steve had been so uncertain that any chance at getting into somewhere other than the community college a county over from Hawkins had flown out the window. It was still a touchy subject, and the fact that his wealthy parents still had him working part-time at the Family Video store, despite pursuing an education, was evidence enough that his father hadn’t forgiven him for not applying himself harder. He has a little over a semester’s worth of classes left until you both are set to transfer to state, and he has to decide on something to do with his life by then in order to appease his parents.

Well, something other than dating you, because you’re the only thing in his life right now that Steve’s absolutely certain he wants.

And you’re absolutely certain that Steve is the man for this assignment.

He’s already helped you set up a few of your other projects for this class, between studying for the few classes you share together, so you’re pretty sure he’ll help you out again, if you ask him nicely.

Pushing past the double doors leading out to the parking lot, it’s not difficult to find his beamer parked right where it always is. Steve’s sitting in the driver’s seat with the window rolled down, undoubtedly enjoying the temperate weather after having got out of his own class that ends thirty minutes before yours. The closer you get, the more you can hear the music on his radio, and it becomes clear that he’s either taking a nap or has his eyes closed behind the sunglasses perched on his nose, because he makes no move to acknowledge your approach.

Leaning on the windowsill, you bend into the car swiftly to place a peck on his cheek, “Guess who?”

“That better be my girlfriend, or I’m in trouble,” he grins, raising his head from where it had been leant back on the seat to look at you through his shades. “How was class?”

“Same old, same old,” you roll your eyes, pushing off the door to go around to the passenger side. Dumping your bag into the back seat, you slide in beside him, continuing, “Dr. Tanner gave us another assignment.”

“Oh?” Steve hums, shifting gears to drive out of the parking lot. “She likes to give you guys a lot of things to do, huh?”

“Yeah, she always is saying that the more we practice, the better our photos will be. I guess she’s right,” you sigh, sinking into the seat and deciding to test the waters. “How about your day? How’s it been?”

Steve groans, jaw clenching as he turns his blinker on, “You don’t want to know. My dad’s gonna’ kill me when I make a C in biology.”

“You got your test back?”

“Unfortunately. At least yesterday I still could live with the hope of getting a B—”

“I’m sure there’s some way to improve your grade. There’s still one more test before the final, right?” You lean towards him, reaching out to give his shoulder a comforting rub, “I’ll help you. I’m doing alright in biology since Dr. O’Malley explains things pretty well.”

“Yeah, but O’Malley at least teaches you what’s gonna’ be on the tests! I feel like every time my guy gives us a lecture, he’s telling us what not to study, because it’s never on his exams!” Steve huffs your name with frustration, “I made a fifty-eight. A fifty-eight! That’s like if a nuke hit my B-average.”

“I’m sorry, Steve. I know you studied hard for it,” you murmur, knowing there’s nothing you can do about it now, and instead focus on perhaps cheering him up, “Want to get drive-thru before we hit the interstate? Like KFC or something? I know you must be starving.” It’s about an hour’s drive back to Hawkins, and food is the only thing that you can think of that might make the situation at least a little better for now.

“Yeah, I guess I could eat,” he doesn’t sound convincing.

You give his shoulder a squeeze, feeling him relax slightly at the touch, “You’ll feel better after.”

The side-eyed glance he gives you lets you see a glimpse of his dark eyes beyond the sunglasses, and you offer him an encouraging smile that he returns, “You’re probably right. Man, I’m moping, aren’t I? Sorry to be such a downer.”

“No, it’s okay. You know you don’t have to be on all the time with me,” when he stops at a red light, he reaches from the gear shift to rest his hand on your thigh, leaning into your touch when you move to caress his cheek. “We’ll work through it together, yeah?”

Steve nods, smile spreading into something more genuine, something that reaches his eyes, when he sighs softly, “What did I do to deserve you, honey?”

“Probably something amazing, I’m sure,” you giggle, before retreating back into your seat and turning up the radio just enough to hear a familiar song you liked.

The wind flowing through his open window ruffles his hair as he continues driving on the turning of the light, “That assignment you were talking about— what’s it going to be this time?”

“Well, I have to take a series of photos involving someone I care about, and make them unique to my personal style.”

“Ah,” he begins, “so who’re you gonna’ ask—?”

Rolling your eyes, you snort, “You, obviously! Who else?”

“I don’t know! I thought, maybe, like, Robin, or your parents, or something—” he quickly runs through his options.

“Of course I was gonna’ ask you, Steve. You’re pretty much the most special person in my life—”

“Aw,” he grins, teasing, “I’m special to you? That’s so sweet.”

“Shut up,” you fight against the warmth rising to your cheeks. Even after all this time, he still can make you flustered, and you know he knows it, “Well, will you?”

“Will I what?”

“Be my subject!”

“Uh, sure,” he hums, “I just gotta’ work this weekend. I’m off Sunday, though, so we could do it then, unless you’re busy.”

“Sunday works,” agreement on your tongue, you’re glad you’ll have a few days to figure out what kind of set up you want for the photos. “You could bring your bio books, too, and we could study together.” Steve groans his reluctance until you point at him, “Hey, I’m gonna’ make sure you get the grade you need, mister!”

“Sunday’s supposed to be a day of rest or something, isn’t it?” he whines, taking the turn towards the restaurant.

“There ain’t no rest for the wicked, Steve,” you tease, grinning, as he shoots you a look beneath a raised brow.

“The wicked, and college students, huh?” Steve shakes his head, a smile lingering on his lips as he pulls up behind the cars waiting in line at the drive-thru, “Come on, tell me what you want.”

Reaching around the seat, you grab your bag to rummage through it in search of some cash, “I’m treating you today, okay? Because you had a bad day— no arguing!” You can tell he wants to, by the time you plop back into your seat with your wallet in hand, but you silence whatever protest he’s about to start into when you lean into his personal space, his eyes darting to your lips when you repeat, “No arguing,” before kissing him.

Trying to keep it proper, considering you were still in semi-public, you don’t give Steve much attention before you’re pulling away, and he’s pouting, but concedes all the same, “Fine, but I’m getting it next time.”

“Mhm,” you hum, biting into your smile as you flip open your wallet.

“I am,” Steve leans towards you, catching your attention with a playful look of determination, shooting your own words back at you. “See this face? No arguing!”

“I’m not arguing!” Gesturing to the car in front of you which had driven forward in the time it had taken for him to get distracted, you refocus him, “Pull up, Steve!”

“Uh-huh, that’s what I thought.”

A wide grin cuts along his teeth, like he knows he’ll get his way, which he will. He almost always does, when it comes to treating you to little things like this. Steve was the kind of guy who liked to feel like he was taking care of someone, but the truth was, he needed you just as much as you needed him. Maybe neither of you were truly reliant on each other financially, but when it comes down to the little moments of every day you spent together? Without that, you’re certain you’d simply wither up and die.

Steve had been your safe place, whenever something was going wrong in your life. You knew you could confide in him about anything, and he’d try to support you through it. Maybe that’s why you can allow yourself to give him the same, because Steve Harrington made loving you look easy, even when you knew it wasn’t always the case.

Comfortable is a forbidden word to some couples. They’re so used to the high of a honeymoon phase, or the anxiety of a struggling relationship, that when the lull of everyday comfortability sets in, it’s mistaken for boredom. For something being terribly wrong. You’d been that way once, before him, and judging by what he’d told you of his past relationships, he’d been victim to that same uncertainty in the past.

The truth is, you wouldn’t rather have him any other way. Slipping into this sneaky vulnerability that comes with the soft comfort which spreads through your soul every time he touches you, or calls you his, is a state you’d gladly live in for the rest of your days.

You’ve been head over heels for him for far longer than you ever realized.

That’s why the next couple of days were hard. Whenever you were separated by work, only able to see him between classes and shifts, as silly as it sounds, you’re missing him by Sunday. Sure, he called you the night before— he always makes sure to call you on the days you can’t see each other in person, but you’re still a bundle of nervous excitement as you set up the finishing touches for the photos of him you had planned.

It was a photography studio on a student budget, also known as a sheet pinned against your shoebox of an apartment’s wall, with strategic lighting positioned around it. You’ve decided on seeing what you can accomplish with polaroids, rather than the film processing you’d have to do otherwise.

You wanted to focus on minimalism, on just him, hoping that maybe the lack of focus on anything else would show how little everything else matters in comparison. Or, at least, that it’ll get you a good grade on the project.

Sighing, you plop down onto your bed to get as much a distant look at the set-up as you can in the cramped space, before deciding that it was as close as you had imagined in your head as you were going to get for now. The sound of the key in your lock lets you know it’s just in the nick of time, too, because within moments Steve is pushing open your door.

“Your model has arrived,” he calls out, before catching sight of you on the bed. He does a dramatic little spin to show off his outfit, which consists of a blue sweater and gray slacks, before shutting your front door behind him with a grin, “I’m ready for Vogue.”

Chuckling, “Perfect timing! I just got done setting everything up.” He’s tucking his keys into his pocket when you look around him, “Did you forget your biology book?”

“Ugh,” he groans before collapsing beside you on the bed, pushing himself up on his elbow to affix you with a reluctant, “it’s rotting in the trunk of my car. I was hoping you’d forget about bio…” blinking up at you, he bats his eyes as if to persuade you, “since I’m being such a great guy and helping you out with your project, and all…”

“Steve!” you huff when he pokes you in the side, swatting at his hands, “It’s for your own good!”

“I’ve just accepted my fate at this point—”

“No, come on,” you shift to turn towards him more fully, dangling one leg off the bed with the other crossed beneath your hands. “There’s more fight in you than that! Look, how about we do the shoot, then we can study a little, and spend the rest of the day doing something fun together? At the very least, we should go over your test together…”

A smile slowly parts his lips, as Steve jokes, “Alright, professor, we’ll do it your way,” before sitting up properly to sneak a kiss at your cheek. “So, tell me all about where you want me for this shoot.”

Escaping the way his hands have started to snake around your waist, you move towards the camera you’ve set up on the small space of a kitchen counter that you have, “I’m thinking, polaroids this time. I did regular film for the last project, but the professor is giving us more creative leeway with this one. Besides, I’ve been wanting to do something serious with this thing for class ever since you got me it for my birthday…”

“Oh, yeah,” Steve nods, as if he’s said anything different when you told him the last few project ideas you’ve come up with, “I think that’s a good idea.”

“I’m not finished telling you everything about my idea,” you begin, picking at the camera in your hands as you confess the one point you weren’t entirely sure if he’d be okay with. “I wanted to do a minimalist kind of thing, and you can totally say no if you want to. I’m sure I could make it work otherwise—”

Steve raises a brow at your rambling tone, “What?”

“I was thinking… about maybe taking a few pictures… without your shirt? Like I was going to pose you so it’s like, this artistically minimal kind of thing, and it would only be shots from the waist up, but I totally get if you’re not comfortable with doing that—” your voice dies in your throat when Steve stands up and simply tugs his sweater over his head, laying it over the rails of your bed’s iron footboard.

Moving closer, he smirks at having successfully silenced you, “You want me to sit on the stool?”

“Yeah, um,” you tear your eyes away from him, towards your setup, and the stool sat in the middle of it. “Kind of with your back to me— I’ll show you.”

When you have him successfully positioned, in the stool, pushing his hair the way you want it to look, he grins at your look of concentration, “Can’t get enough of this pretty face, huh?”

“Quit smiling,” you snicker, before pulling back to look at him through the camera lens, “I want a neutral look on your face in these shots.”

“Neutral, huh?” he proceeds to frown.

“Neutral, not frowning! Think of, like, clean laundry, or something that makes you feel calm—”

“Clean laundry?” he was heavily judging your choice, “That’s what makes you calm?”

“Steve,” you whine, lowering the camera from your face, “just think of something calming.”

“Okay, okay, just gimme’ a second,” he relents, as you bring the camera back up to line up the shot. Finally, he breathes, “Got it,” before his face settles into a calm neutral expression, dark brown eyes looking at the camera just the way you want.

“Perfect,” you snap the shot, before hearing the whirr of the film as it gets ejected. Fanning the picture until it starts to appear, you feel your smile spreading when you begin to make out the photo. It turned out great. Setting the picture on the counter, you turn back to Steve, “Alright, just keep doing that. I’m gonna’ get some different angles.”

“Okay. Just make sure you make me look cool,” of course that would be his one concern.

Before you can reposition him again, you try out some different angles. You want to have multiple shots to choose from, so you don’t wind up having to take more pictures of him later. You’d learned your lesson before about not getting enough shots, and it was more of a hassle in the long run than just taking your time while you had everything set up. You spend almost half an hour taking the shots between soft banter with Steve, which is honestly less time than you’d expected it to take, but Steve was more focused today than he usually is.

Flipping through the stack of polaroids you’ve taken, you hold out some for Steve to see, “Wanna’ take a look?”

“We done?”

“I think so. They turned out really nice. I’ll have to narrow down my favorite ones to submit for class…” Steve’s fingers brush yours as he takes the pictures from your hands, looking through them. You hope he thinks they look as good as you do, “What do you think?”

“I think,” his eyes flick up from the pictures to catch your waiting stare, “I’ve never looked better.” You let out a breath of relief, taking the pictures back from him to sort out on the counter, while Steve plucks the camera into his hands, “This is a nifty little thing, huh? I didn’t expect it to be able to make pictures that good.”

“That’s the technology of the ‘80s for you,” you joke, only for a flash and the sound of the camera going off to catch your attention. Whipping your head from the pictures on the counter to Steve, you find him grinning mischievously at you as he fans out a picture of his own, “Steve!”

“What? The photographer never gets to be photographed?” holding out the picture, you watch as the candid image of you sorting through the pictures comes into view, “Look at how beautiful you look.”

“Stop,” you can’t stop your giggles when he slides up into your personal space, positioning the camera like he’s going to take another picture, “you’ll waste the film.”

“It’s not a waste. I could use a few more pictures of you.”

Looking towards him skeptically, “You have pictures of me—”

“Yeah,” he sighs, brushing your hair out of his way to kiss you against your temple, “I could always use more, though.”

“What you should use is that biology book that’s in the trunk of your car,” you turn to face him, leaning against the counter as he rolls his eyes at your cheeky changing of the subject. Backing up, he appears to be thinking, before he turns to go and sit on the edge of your bed, still picking at the camera in his hands.

“You said we wouldn’t study until after the shoot,” Steve mumbles, placing the camera to his side.

“Yeah, and I’m done. I got all the shots I think I need.”

“No, you haven’t,” he begins, and you know better than to play this game with him, when he gets that look in his eyes. You know whatever he’s got in his head can only be a bad idea, but you step forward anyway.

Arms crossed over your chest, it’s too fun to give into him to resist, “Oh? What makes you say that?”

“I was just… thinking…”

“That’s dangerous.”

“Shut up,” Steve chuckles, reaching out when you’re within arm’s reach to tug you closer by the loops in your jeans. “I was just thinking about, maybe… you letting me take some pictures of you. Just for me.”

“Just for you, huh?” you lean your hand on his shoulder, steading yourself from where you stand between his knees. “What kind of pictures?”

“Nothing too bad, just… the last picture I have of you is the one in my wallet, and it’s practically falling apart,” he sighs when you card your fingers into his hair, scraping your nails along his scalp. “How am I supposed to brag about my girl with a picture that looks like it’s been through a world war?”

“And who’s fault is that? I gave it to you brand new—”

“I know, I know, but,” and there are those wide eyes of his again, staring up at you with that pleading look that made you melt to his every whim just about, “I want to remember how you are now, when we’re alone together. Not just some professional photo— though, you look nice in those, too.”

Now, how were you supposed to say no to that?

“Okay, fine,” you sigh, knowing full well you’d let him take as many as he wanted to, “just one picture.” He could use the rest of your film up, if it meant seeing him grin at you like he was. Reloading the camera again is a small price to pay.

“Really?” when you nod, he urges you down into his lap with a firm tug at your hips, until you’re left straddling him. His hand finds the side of your neck, dragging your lips against his in a kiss that’s soft, slow, but laced with his hint of grateful excitement before he pulls away with, “Thank you.”

“Jeez, if that’s the thanks I get for letting you take a picture, I’ll let you take them more often,” you laugh, as he picks the camera off the comforter. “How do you want me to sit for the picture, Steve?”

“Hmm,” he hums thoughtfully, bringing the camera to his face to look at you through it, “that’s a good question. I think… I want you to take your sweater off for it.”

“It’s a cardigan,” you correct, reaching down to unbutton the garment.

“Whatever,” Steve lowers the camera, watching you toss the cardigan onto the footboard of your bed, where his sweater still hangs. It leaves you in the casual tank-top you’d been wearing beneath.

“Do you want to use the set?”

“No, no,” he brings the camera back up, still seemingly deciding on how he wants the picture, “I think I want you to sit on the bed.” Before you can move from his lap, he adds, “It would be more normal. I want it to be kind of natural.”

“Alrighty, then,” you shift, crawling off him and to the side in order to lay back on the bed, until he gets up. When you sit upright, Steve’s standing off the end of the bed with the camera, seemingly mimicking the way you had been lining up your shot earlier.

Noticing the strap of your tank top has slipped down your arm when you shifted positions, you go to push it back up, only for Steve’s voice to stop you, “Uh, can you leave it?”

“What?”

“It just makes you look comfortable,” is his only explanation, but you lower your hand all the same, leaving the strap hanging slightly off your shoulder.

“Is this good?” you ask, but there’s a tension in the air, and judging by the strain in his voice, he can feel it, too.

“Yeah, uh,” you watch as Steve swallows, “can you just, lay back a bit?” Doing as he says, you relax against the comforter a little, and he comes closer. His knees brush the edge of the bed between where your calves dangle off the edge of it. He takes another second, before the shutter goes off along with the flash, and then another picture is ejecting from the camera.

Steve fans it a little, while you raise your foot to press into his abdomen, “Did it turn out how you wanted?”

His eyes are a little glazed over, when he looks from the picture to you, as if he were lost in thought for just a moment, “Um, yeah, take a look.” You take the photo when he offers it to you, only to see yourself spread atop the bed, hair spread around your head like a halo, the strap of your tank top falling off your shoulder. The slight smile on your face only adds to how comfortable you look, and you have to admit, you don’t hate this picture of you.

Steve’s hand comes to your ankle, pushing your foot from his path as he kneels into the bed, settling over your body while you stare at the picture, “I did good, huh?”

“You’re quite the photographer, Mister Harrington,” you tease, casting your eyes upon him again to find that he’s so close. It takes only a shift of his body weight to lower himself enough to capture your lips with his, but while this kiss might be slow, it was far from soft. There’s an edge there, a need in the insistence of his lips against yours. The taste of his tongue scrambling your thoughts until you completely abandon the picture in your grip, leaving it somewhere beside you on the bed, in favor of the feeling of his skin.

Your hands snake up his sides, dragging him closer just as much as your legs do, while Steve kisses you senseless. His fingers splay beneath the end of your shirt, pushing until he can feel the soft press of your stomach, and inching upwards with each passing second. The last thing on either of your minds is studying for biology, and any chance you have at returning to the plan for the day is quickly slipping through your fingertips the more his body presses down into yours.

It crumbles away entirely when he pulls back just enough to utter a breathless, “I need you so bad right now,” before delving down your jaw, dragging his lips along the column of your throat.

“Steve—” you’re just as breathless, and you don’t know if it’s the few days you’ve spent apart, or the fact that you have both been so wound-up over school, but you need him just as badly.

“Please,” he groans against your throat, leaving open-mouthed kisses there that were undoubtedly going to leave a mark thanks to the fervor with which he’d descended upon you. You hardly mind. You’ve missed his marks on you, ever since the last ones had faded.

Your tank top is pushed over your chest, a fist in the fabric keeping it up while his other hand presses against your hardening nipples through the bralette you’d chosen to wear today. You hadn’t planned on going anywhere, and wanted to just remain comfortable, but that was backfiring on you now, because you can feel almost everything through the thin fabric.

As if arching into his touch wasn’t enough, Steve questions, “You want it, too, right?”

“Yeah, Steve,” catching him by the jaw to drag his head back up, you mewl against his lips, “I want you.”

His breath shudders from his lips before he draws you into another kiss. Taking his time to strip you down is nothing new, but the words he utters as he pushes his own pants from his hips are.

“I can’t stop thinking about how good you look on camera,” Steve groans, taking himself into his hand, stroking languidly as you shift beneath where he’s knelt himself over you on the bed. Fingers slipping down your thigh, he drags you a little closer, kissing the inside of your knee. You suck in a breath as he pushes himself along your core, spreading your wetness along his length, all the while with a heated look swirling in his dark eyes. When he finally positions himself against your entrance, your mouth falls open, sucking in a soft breath at the feeling of his familiar stretch, but it’s his words that set you on fire, “Now that’s a sight I’d like a picture of.”

It’s an off-handed comment, but now you can’t stop thinking about it. Drowning in the feeling of the slow, steady pace he sets, the idea has time to marinate in the back of your scrambled mind.

You’re reaching for him, brushing your fingertips against his abdomen as you moan his name, but Steve huffs, “Touch yourself,” as he drives his hips into yours once again.

Blinking up at him, you’re struck by the idea of how he would look if you took a picture of him at this very moment, and that thought is perhaps what sets the most foolish words on your tongue, “The camera— Get the camera.”

His hips stutter, and a choked sound comes from him, before he manages to form a sentence, “Are you serious?”

“Just for you,” you nod, and he abandons his grip on your thigh to reach for the polaroid that had wound up against the pillows.

His pace almost stills until he can get the camera in a good enough grip to lift it to his face, and that’s when his thrusts return in long, languid strokes that have you writhing beneath him with the assistance of your fingers pressing circles at your clit, “God, look at you.” His voice is heavy, wrapped around a moan of his own as he presses a hand down against your stomach, pushing your hips down onto his cock in a way that almost makes you cry out, “These are gonna’ turn out great.”

There’s a certain vulnerability to being in front of a camera, and stripped as bare as you were already, you’re practically raw, rubbed against him when the flash bursts upon your skin, camera shutter mixing with your moans as he fucks you slow into the mattress, “Steve, ah—!”

He abandons your stomach to take the photo that slips from the camera, fanning it until it develops enough for him to see the still image resulting from his touch, “Oh, look at how pretty you are.” He holds it out for you to see, but you barely manage a glimpse at yourself before he’s tossing the picture to the side, bringing the camera back up to his eyes.

“You’re— taking another?” you gasp, arching up into your own touch as he hits you deeper with the next roll of his hips.

“Yeah, that’s right. Just a few more—” Steve groans reaching to slip his hand down your thigh, pushing you open even more, “Can you spread your legs a little more— yeah, just like that—” and the shutter’s going off again, the image of you burned into the film as much as it will be in his memory.

You clench around him when the photograph falls onto your chest before he can reach for it, and you hope you’ll never forget the whimper that escapes him when he lowers the camera just slightly. A glimpse of teeth digging into his bottom lip to keep the sounds threatening to spill from him at bay, when he opens his eyes from the feeling, he sees you watching him in a way that seems to spell out your desire in every way words seem incapable of accomplishing right now.

All you can manage are your own sighs of pleasure, when his fingertips overlap yours to press into your clit. Lowering the camera to the bed, he refocuses on turning you into molten lava with every steady, sure stroke, building up the pleasure until it reached a boiling point. Lost somewhere between overstimulation and the peak of your desire, you’re both chasing this feeling and trying to draw it out for as long as it will last.

Your mouth is dry, so you lick your lips, thankful you’re able to think just barely enough to say, “I-It’s not fair. I won’t have any pictures of you.”

“You want some of me?” Steve repeats, as if he didn’t quite hear you right. For all he knows, he hallucinated it at this point, because he’s nearly out of his mind with how good you feel wrapped around him.

“I do,” you shift, using all the energy you have left to push him over, until you’re sitting on top of him. “It’s only fair.” Grinding your hips down into his, his hands catch against your thighs, aiding in your attempt at riding him with just a torturous pace as he had set.

“Oh— Okay,” his head falls back against the bed as he moans, “Yeah— We gotta’ be fair.”

The camera’s in your hands as soon as you can reach for it, but you’re slower than he was. So lost in the feeling that it takes you more time to drag your mind back to the task at hand, until his lips part when you drop your hips down onto him a little quicker than before.

That’s the one.

The snap of the camera seems to only make him rock himself further into your thrusts, and you wind up quite pleased with the way your picture turned out, “Steve, look—” He squeezes your thighs before one of his hands releases you in favor of taking the picture by his index and middle finger, bringing it up to his face.

“Oh, fuck,” he whines at the sight, and you place your hand on his chest in order to get enough leverage to drag yourself almost completely off his cock, just to drop your hips again, and he nearly shouts at the feeling. You’re both shaking, and it shows in the next picture you take of him, but the blurriness is hardly obstructing the view of him, still looking at the photo you’d snapped moments before it.

He falls apart just seconds before you do, fingers digging into the flesh of your thigh as the photograph falls from his grip. Fingers carding through his own hair as you ride him through the brunt of it, desperately chasing your own pleasure at this point, until it detonates with the fullness that comes from his shuddering release.

Steve’s weak call of your name falls on deaf ears as you nearly collapse atop him. Shivering white-hot pleasure down your spine until it settles in the involuntary fluttering of your core around him. He supplies a few overstimulated, shallow thrusts as his arms wrap around you, holding you to him for dear life, until you both manage to float down from the devastation you’ve reaped upon each other.

You’re just glad you didn’t drop the camera, because you would hate to have broken it.

Instead, it lays against the mattress much like the rest of you, though you don’t think you’ll ever be able to use it again without thinking back to this moment. Steve’s fingers trace up your spine, as you feel him slowly beginning to even out his breathing beneath your chest.

“Holy shit,” he murmurs into your ear, and you giggle against him.

“Yeah…” moving off of him, you collapse into the bed, careful to avoid any stray polaroid pictures evidencing your love-making that were strewn along the bed.

Steve tilts his head to look at you, chuckling, “I think I should get a video camera for your next birthday—”

“Shut up.”

#steve harrington fanfic #stranger things fanfic #stranger things female reader insert #female reader insert #newstuff female reader insert #fanfiction #fanfic by me #author meg #smut #nsft

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de-bauchry · 2 years ago

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Tense

?pairing; tokita ohma x gn reader!!

?warning; suggestive, teasinggg, mentions of hand kink, bruising, cut man reader!! nurse reader?? choking no gender implied

?a/n; this was gonna be like a male reader insert but I just idk I haven’t been describing any body parts or just implying gender in my writing lately and would rather leave that up to u guys until idk feel like assigning a gender to my writing?? 💀💀 I hope u guys enjoyyyyyy pls lmk if you want a pt 2 or not

tokita had quite a match today but nothing he couldn’t handle. despite red and purple blotches of bruises scattered all throughout his body, he was still an formidable force to be reckoned with. leaving the match with the opponent in broken bones, in need of a new face entirely, and more than likely unable ever to fight again. so compared to the other guy these bruises, aches, and pains were nothing; at least he was still able to have a fighting career.

but you on the other hand were not taking this lightly you knew that Ohma is used to pain and is pretty good at handling it, but you know once that adrenaline and excitement from the win washes away? the pain begins to settle in, and he’s not doing enough to keep his body in shape. as his cut man seeing him like this only upsets you everytime he came back with this oh-so-nonchalant attitude about his busted up body. his opponent did a great job of dealing a plethora of jabs at ohma’s shoulder, abdomen, and sides pretty good, a few cuts on his face here and there nothing too serious, but ohma’s shoulder and ribs were bound to breaking damage. they could snap in any minute if his movements are too rough or even just standing up too quickly or even stretching.

“hey. y’ gonna keep ogling me or are ya gonna patch these up or what?” tokita asks turning his head to look over to where your standing. arms folded and tut across your chest, staring him down with a laser focused look in your eye as you examined him, to ohma you looked good when you were focused like this.

“shut up, no one’s checking you out fool I’m looking at your wounds.” you insult whilst walking towards him. grabbing some wrapping bandage, an ice pack, some painkillers, and a wet rag from behind you before setting the items down beside him, and settling yourself between his legs, squat down in front of him. silence enveloped the infirmary room as you began tending to his wounds, splaying your hand out against his side where a major darkening bruise was, his abs gracing your fingertips. you huff in disappointment at the wound before looking up at him. “think you could sit up for me?”

tokita who was a bit surprised that you weren’t chewing his head off already, the emotion not apparent on his face figured he was in deep shit because of your silence, deciding to comply without pissing you off just in case. tokita rises up slowly, pain immediately striking his ribs from the action a grimace escaping him from doing so. he tried again to sit up from his hunched over position but the pressure you started putting onto the fracture had made him stop.

“I can’t sit up if your gonna break it.” he says through gritted teeth as he looks at you confused on what your getting out of furthering his pain. “im only trying to stop you. clearly you can’t sit up Mr. Dramatic.” you take your hand away from it gently replacing it with an icepack that you could tell immediately soothed him from the way he groaned. “you’ve gotta stop letting them hit you so much.” you were looking up at the fighter with genuine sincerity and concern as you had one of his free hands in your own.

tokita looked down averting your gaze, eyes landing on your thighs in deep thought as he was considering what you were saying. in honesty he wasn’t too happy with your words, he was an unstoppable man a wound meant nothing to him, a broken arm was like another day, a broken rib wasn’t nothing either so why was this one taking such a toll on him? he couldn’t feel the full affect that it was taking on him yet but the pain was definitely slowly starting to weigh in. hunched over he replaced your hand holding the ice pack with his own to keep it in place. “I know what I’m doing. the day I’m not the strongest will never come.” tokita replies with a strong affirmation, lifting his head to finally meet your gaze with his serious one.

“if you know what your doing then stop letting them hit you. you like to rile up the crowd and even your opponent by putting your body on the line, but if you keep doing this you won’t have a body to fight with! so take this seriously. take your health seriously. you can’t be the strongest if your bodies broken down.” you spoke with passion and conviction, giving him a little stare down of your own before going back to tending to him, grabbing his hand to look at his knuckles. they were bloody and a little swollen like you had anticipated, delicately wiping the blood off his knuckles treating him with subtlety.

your words had struck something within him, he didn’t think you cared so much and quite frankly he was at a loss for words, letting a comfortable silence take over as tokita just watched you take care of him now. eyes roaming over your features and the way you treated him with care. just how soft you were being while cleaning him up, the way he couldn’t exactly deny your statement, how brazen and challenging you are towards him, the way your eyebrows would knit in concentration, your pretty (e/c) eyes, the way your cool strong hands felt against his skin, the way this position with you between his legs made you quite vulnerable. ohma’s muscular form and height towering over your average one making you look much smaller than you happen to be.

you followed your wiping ministrations up toki’s arm to wipe away the previous fighters blood off him and all his wounds but you can’t say you weren’t getting distracted. it was something about the way toki’s veins were gorging from his hands up his arms that made things a bit “complicated” for you. who were you kidding it was undeniable that ohma was attractive, and you may have a bit of a hand kink because of him.

as you wipe along his knuckles, your movements had started to become more languid and precise as you went up his forearm and biceps, your eyes glossed with heat as you tried to focus, fixated and tracing along every vein that went along with your movement, drool starting to pool at the corner of your mouth which goes unnoticed by you a thick tension brewing in the air.

tokita caught onto you rather quickly though. watching the way you’ve started to pay extra attention and particularly to his hands or arms, how you were eating him up, and don’t think he didn’t notice you drooling. this made him wanna tease the oh-so-professional you by taking your hand and placing it on his rock hard chest, giving you a feel as he looks down at your doe eyed shook expression with his usual mean mug.

“don’t play coy now my perverted little nurse. help yourself”.

“I-I n-no this isn-“ you stammer over your words nervously as tokita’s strong hands cutting off your air supply had stopped your sentence, veins looking rather threatening now, lifting you from your previous sitting position now on your knees before him, faces inches apart. “huh? lying are we? I don’t really like dishonest people nurse.” a smug smirk spread across ohma’s face.

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primofate · 3 years ago

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Genshin [Volleyball Team AU - Inspired by Haikyuu!] What it’s like to be their manager Headcanons

Note: I think a lot of people misunderstand the role of the manager XD It’s not that the whole team is dating you. It’s that the whole team treats you like their family/sister. So you’d better bet that all of them are gunna be hella protective of you XD

Scenario: What do you do for the team and what do they do for you? :D

Warnings: not proofread, fluffy, might have some swear words, platonic relationships

Characters: Zhongli, Diluc, Kaeya, Albedo, Tartaglia, Kazuha, Xiao, Tohma, reader as the team manager

Other works in the Volleyball Team AU Series: Click Here

Genshin Volleyball Team manager

It’s just fuckin’ chaos

On your first day you’re already bombarded with questions by Tartaglia and Kaeya

“So which class are you?” “What’s your height?” “Are you single?”

Captain Zhongli just cannot be bothered to reign them in anymore.

So Vice Captain Diluc does it and grabs their collars. “You idiots, you’re scaring her off!”

Possibly Kazuha and Tohma are the ones you really try to rely on, on your first few weeks.

So how do you gain the trust of your team? Let’s start with each player shall we?

#1 Zhongli (Captain/Wing Spiker/Ace)

Zhongli is just handsome and mature. He’s strict and needs to be the pillar of the team.

You’re intimidated by him the first few weeks and he just seems...a little far. He’s always so focused that you can’t seem to catch a moment to just chat with him.

There’s a day where you notice that his form is a little off, you suspect that he hurt his wrist a little.

You fidget uncomfortably in the gym as they practice, but finally turn to the coach “U-Umm... The captain is... I mean! I’m not sure, but... I think he needs to take a rest,”

The coach calls for someone to substitute Zhongli and suddenly asks you to check on him.

“Huh?! Me?!” the coach pushes you towards him, and Zhongli is just looking at you quizzically, you can practically see the question mark on his face.

“C-Captain, d-do you need some bandages on your wrist?”

Zhongli is taken aback, but silently puts his right wrist out for you to wrap.

Only when you’re done tending to it does he look you in the eye and ask.

“How did you know?”

“...Because I always watch, and all I can do is watch. If I can’t even spot that out then I’m not a very good manager am I?”

Zhongli has a newfound respect for you. He thought you were just a meek and shy thing sitting around and passing them balls but he feels his heart swell that someone like you is seriously watching over them.

#2 Diluc (Vice Captain/Wing Spiker/Defense Specialist)

Diluc is probably the second hardest to get along with or break the ice with.

But he gradually warms up to you when he notices that he’s always the first one you pass a towel and water bottle to.

You’re not doing that on purpose, it’s just him who always comes up first.

After a few days he deliberately goes to you faster cause he always wants to be the one to receive a water bottle and towel from you first. Secretly a puppy.

The moment he realized that you were reliable was when you stayed behind to help him practice when everyone else went home already.

You didn’t let up in your constant praise of “nice receive”, “great spike!” and “that’s so cool!”

He thinks he saw stars in your eyes at some point.

“Hey, Diluc, it’s getting late, let’s leave some energy for tomorrow, yeah?” he could tell from your mannerisms that you were tired too, but you tried not to let it show on your face and still cleaned up with him.

“I’ll see you tomorrow then!” you wave but you’re stopped by a quick. “No,” from him. You tilt your head in wonder and he just looks at you as if it’s the most normal thing in the world.

“It’s late, I’ll walk you home,”

#3 Kaeya (Middle Blocker)

You don’t have to impress this guy, anyone of the female gender impresses him.

lol jk

safe to say it’s not difficult to befriend Kaeya, just bring him a cheering squad and some food.

all jokes aside the way to this guy’s heart is through his stomach.

He’s not a particularly hungry person but there’s this one time he forgot to bring lunch. He was running late, or something of that sort, honestly not something new for him.

He ALSO didn’t bring money so he couldn’t eat food from the cafeteria.

Ask his friends for money you say? Tartaglia would go, “Haha no way!” Albedo would go, “Let this be a lesson for you,” his brother would go “Serves you right,”

By club time he’s famished and dramatic. “Guys, go on without me, this is as far as I go,” as he sprawls on the gym floor.

You ask if he’s okay and he doesn’t answer so Diluc is the one that answers for him. “He forgot his lunch, as always,”

You make a sound of understanding and the next thing you know you’re taking out a lunch box and Kaeya has lifted his head up, sensing food.

“I packed onigiri for everyone today, actually... In case someone was hungry. It’s not much but--”

Kaeya comes alive from the dead and clutches your hands to his chest. “Manager you really are an angel,”

Diluc jump kicks him away from you.

#4 Albedo (Setter)

You also don’t know how to approach this guy

He always looks mad or stoic or something. Like he’s always thinking about something.

He low key actually is always thinking about play strategies and how to set the ball better for his teammates.

You really do think he works so hard while the game is going on, so you decide to help him out a little bit.

You watch a few more of their games and somehow come up with a list of what kinds of sets are better for each different spiker in the team.

There’s surprise in his eyes when you pass the document to him and modestly exclaim “...but, it might not be accurate, since I’m not that experienced,”

He still nods and says “...It’s the thought that counts,”

When he does read your report and try the techniques out he notices that it does hold some merit in it

Is amazed like how Zhongli is amazed. He thought you were just there to hand them bottles and cheer for them but he had never been so wrong as to what a manager’s role is.

Will trust you enough to ask you about his set performance.

Will sometimes slam Kaeya with an insult. “Kaeya, your spike sense is horrid, Y/N can read the moves better than you,”

#5 Tartaglia (Middle Blocker/Wing Spiker)

It’s not that he has a hard time trusting people but let’s just say he has the tendency to make you feel like he likes you but then he actually does that to everyone.

For example: He’ll throw compliments like “Oh that’s amazing Y/N!” but then back in the classroom you’ll hear him say “Oh that’s amazing!” to, like, every other person.

That kinda disappoints you cause then the comment doesn’t really hold that much meaning to it if he keeps on saying it to others too.

He encounters a crisis mid year because this guy is just... he struggles with his grades.

Captain Zhongli has told him he can’t play volleyball if he fails even one subject.

This boy is panicking and has semi-accepted this is the end of his volleyball career.

So you offer to study with him and he’s legit stoked.

Intensive and strict study sessions commence. Note taking, pop quizzes, surprise questions and even sudden random calls from you wherein you ask him a question and he has to answer within 5 seconds.

You’ve pulled all the study techniques you know here, this man better pass everything.

Welp, he still fails History....but since he worked so hard Captain Zhongli excuses it.

He’s so happy that he can’t hold back the stupidly wide smile on his face. He turns to you and for the very very first time in months, he bows and THANKS you.

You realize that he’s never thanked you before. Not even when you pass him water bottles or towels.

You consider it a win, getting rare and sincere appreciation from him.

#6 Kazuha (Decoy/Middle Blocker/Wing Spiker)

One of the easiest to get along with but at the same time, he’s so mature that you feel like you’re not even in the same age range as him.

Definitely someone you can count on though, so you ask him many questions on the first week.

Still, it’s one of those things where you can kind of talk to him but there’s still a wall between you two.

One day while walking around in school there were these boys who were commenting about his height, and questioning his abilities as a volleyball team member.

You didn’t really think much about it when you speak up, “But he’s a really good middle blocker and spiker,”

Those boys look at you weirdly and you realize that you’ve unconsciously spoken up. So you hurriedly walk away.

Little did you know that Kazuha was in some secret corner and heard the whole thing.

Just like that, the next day, it seems as if the wall between you two was gone, and you’re able to talk freely.

That, and he seemed to like asking you to help him practice his spikes and throw balls for him now.

#7 Xiao (Libero)

is deceivingly easy to get along with. Just has a rough exterior but is actually a softie if you squint.

You know this because there are subtle things he does.

He doesn’t speak to you much but then he would be the one picking up the balls with you, or sometimes there’s magically a new set of clean towels on the bench that you don’t remember taking out from the storage room.

This guy is passionate for the game, so he really beats himself up when he isn’t able to receive a ball during actual games.

You worry about his mentality sometimes. I mean, it’s a team game, it’s not like he alone can save the whole game

So you talk to him about it the other day

“You’re already a really good libero Xiao, I mean... I’m not saying you should stop practicing but you don’t have to feel so bad...” you pause because this doesn’t feel like the message you want to convey

“Sorry, what I mean is... You CAN feel bad, but share the burden with your team, you know?”

He knows what you’re saying and contemplates it for a while. He knows that his team has his back, but sometimes just needs reminder about it.

He looks at you and asks, “...Can I share the burden with you too?”

You blink “Huh?”

“You said I can share the burden with my team, but can I share it with you too?”

There is a blush on his cheeks at this point.

“Oh, yea! Of course! I don’t play but I’m still part of the team you know!”

Ever since then, during games, if he feels a little frustrated he’d glance at you on the bench and you’d give him a thumbs up for a job well done.

#8 Tohma (Pinch Server/Middle Blocker)

You’re like bffs the moment you see each other

lol jk

You’re still awkward with him the first few days cause that’s just how first meetings are.

But he is very easy to talk to and always makes you feel at ease

Will always be the one to ask how you are if you need any help or if class was okay in general

Seems like the type of person to care more about others than himself

So he’s surprised when you come into the gym and you beat him to asking his usual questions.

“Tohma, how are you today? Did you have a proper lunch?”

“Tohma, are you getting tired? Want some water?”

“Tohma, how was class today?”

All the other members of the team turn to look at the two of you, thinking ‘Why does Tohma get extra attention?’

Tohma certainly doesn’t get extra attention you just TALK to him more. The other members deadass are also getting cared for by you, just in different ways.

This boy has some insecurities though, when it comes to playing the game. He hasn’t been in it for long so he’s the least experienced and that gets to him sometimes.

“Oh, really? But you play really well! I couldn’t tell that you’re new”

His serves are really amazing though.

“Also! You always score points for us with the serves. Sometimes, your serves are my favourite part of the game!”

Has practiced extra hard so as not to let you down.

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#genshin au #genshin volleyball au #primofate #genshin headcanons #zhongli x reader #diluc x reader #tartaglia x reader #childe x reader #xiao x reader #kazuha x reader #tohma x reader #albedo x reader #kaeya x reader #genshin fluff

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