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clawsdevour · 5 months ago

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fogged up

wc: 1.9k content warning: smut, post-time skip, established relationship, shower sex, small mention of slapping, oral (m!receiving), reader x kiyoomi sakusa, oneshot, not proofread

note: to be honest. this plot and like little scenario has BEEN simmering in my mind since like 2020 LMFAO i jsut never started writing until this summer..

ꕮ * ׂ.﹑

It was currently 7:33 PM, and the other day you invited your boyfriend, Kiyoomi Sakusa, to sleep over at your place for the night since he’s got volleyball practice near where you resided. He’s supposed to arrive around eight which is usually the time he gets out.

Twenty-seven minutes.. Good amount of time for an everything shower before he gets here, you thought to yourself. You’re grabbing the cute pjs you saved to wear for the night you invited him over, along with a pair of some lacy panties to add with your sleepwear if things get a bit intimate.

The cold bathroom air hits your face when you twist open the knob and set your clothes on the marble counter. Turning on the water, as you wait for it to get warmer you start stripping yourself naked before hopping in and closing the glass door.

You do the usual routine starting with double shampooing, a nice and hydrating hair mask, wash it off before letting your condition sit in your hair. Despite hearing all of the water shooting down onto you and the hitting the tiles, you heard something else from another part of your house. The front door. Someone got into your house. Fuck.. Is this gonna end up like that one movie where that girl dies in the bathroom?? Keep in mind, you lived alone. The door creaked to a close when you heard a heavy thud and footsteps heading towards the noise you created in the bathroom.

You were just halfway into your everything shower when you saw the doorknob move side to side through the glass walls of your shower. The clunk of your handle slowly twisted the door open, from outside you’re staring at an eye that pierced back at you to which you knew who it was. Oh thank god, It’s just Kiyoomi!! Sighing in relief before you realized you’re completely left exposed, vulnerable and completely wet, trying to hastily cover up with just your hands.

“O-Oh.. I’m sorry” his husky voices mutters out, realizing you’re helpless naked and showering while he slams the door shut in awkwardness, still standing right outside. Both of you were in a bit of shock at the sudden interaction, the tension rose to its high even though you were separated by the door.

“Wait Omi! Do you… wanna join me? You just got back from practice so you must be feeling really sweaty and gross right now!” peering your head out of the glass door to stare back at the blank wall that’s dividing you two. His head hung back up to ask through the walls if it was okay, to which you obliged.

He creaks back open a sliver while asking you to excuse him for his intrusion. His tall muscular body walks in, dark eyes wide open, face slightly flushed and tried their hardest to resist seeing your bare figure covered with the sheen layer of water that glistened with every movement.

Kiyoomi brought in his clothing and set it aside next to yours as he began to undress in front of you, to which you watched from the corner of your eye while he strips his articles of clothing one by one. His lean long torso, and toned arms left you salivating. Especially when he slid down his boxers to reveal that he already had an erection that coiled out, a large and tall one at that, leaving you in shock while he’s a bit ashamed.

“I can’t help myself.” He’s standing face to face with you with the glass shower somewhat opened, looking down at you and your perky, shiny breasts. You let out a subtle giggle as you grabbed his hand to lead him in the shower with you. His deep black curls, saturated and drooped down as the water catches onto his thick hair.

Turning around to face the showerhead as you wash out the conditioner that was in your hair for a while, you felt Kiyoomi’s large hands hover around your slick waist. His head, in the crook of your neck planting a soft peck on your jaw. You felt his bare cock press and increase in size along the curve of your ass.

“Did you miss me at practice, Omi?” you could feel his mouth form into a small grin along your neck. He’s gradually sliding his dick up and down on the crevice of your ass, as he nods into you. One of his hands let go from your waist and slide up to your boob, feeling it up and flicking around your nipple as you let out small whines from his cheeky antics.

“How’d you know?” he’s moving his hand up from your nipple to your chin to position you for a kiss on the lips as you gaze back at his eyes that’re filled to the brim with lust and desire. The tapping sounds coming from the water hitting onto you two and the floor made it inaudible when you and Kiyoomi started to full on make out in the shower.

His hand on your waist eventually slid down to your slippery clit, rubbing it in slow sensational circles while you continue to receive his loving, sloppy kisses that enhanced your experience. You were the first to pull away from him to catch your breath while you turned around and kneeled in front of him to face his raging boner. He’s flushed to a rosy pink hue as you started to stroke his cock aggressively since the water made it easier to slide your fingers around his dick.

“Shit.. if you do that, I don’t know what I’m gonna end up doing with you.” His thumb reaches down once more, but to open your mouth while your undivided attention was set on him as he’s toying with your warm tongue that swirls around his calloused digit. When he took out his thumb from your slobbering mouth was when you started going down on his length.

The warmth your mouth provided him was overwhelming, his hot breathless puffs ringing in the little heated glass room and mixed with the humidity. The amount of slick your cunt produced kept getting washed down by the water, but sucking him off made you feral and crave him even more as you bobbed your head repeatedly on it. His long fingers were buried in your sopping wet hair as he held your head to use your mouth like his own personal flesh toy.

His dick twitched like crazy in your mouth from the unbearable pleasure that he had to pull out before he came in your mouth. But you absolutely refused, you wanted all of his release in your mouth.

“Ha.. you’re kidding me…” he snickered whilst holding eye contact with you, your eyes penetrated his while he pumped his warm gooey cum into your mouth before taking it out while he watched you swallow it all down. Sticking your tongue out to playfully taunt him, he can’t help but snicker at how you just took it all like that down your throat.

“Put it in please, I can’t wait any longer Omi.. it’s been so long since you’ve been back” stepping closer to the glass wall of the shower, your hands spread across the glass that fogged, ass sticking out with the water shimmering as it runs down your back, your head is turnt to peep at him with eyes that begged with sin.

“You’ll get what you want.” Kiyoomi splashed behind you as he closes in between the gap, his hands gripping your hips to get closer to his. You watch impatiently from behind as he’s lining up his tip with your slick entrance, the water making it a bit slippery before you felt your hole widen as his head presses into you, letting out an immense moan that rippled along the walls.

“O-Omi..!” Moaning out his name as he starts to thrust his size into you, creating banging sounds that recoiled with the water that hits from above.

The side of your face pressed against the shower to watch him at work drilling into your pussy with all the wet squelching that echoed and mixed with sounds of the downpour. Your tits were pressed against the glass and moved whenever he pounded into you, creating foggy looking silhouettes around you. The shadows and your nipples squished around, as you’re able to watch this all go down in the mirror across from you.

His tightening grip was bruising, but you loved it. You also loved whenever he lands a finishing strike across your ass that stings a bright red on your cheek as if your ass was a volleyball that he spiked. Your whimpers and that lewd look on your face powers him further to fuck you even harder. Whenever you call out for him, he can’t help himself but pick up the pace to pleasure you even further.

Kiyoomi’s watching you get pounded by him in the mirror, enjoying every second of it. His soaking wet hair brushes against your skin whenever he peppers kisses along your back, while he smells the scent of clean soap wash off your body the more he pounds into you.

“You feel so fucking good you know that?” You babble out words that you couldn’t even make out the moment your slurred speech comes out of your mouth. Your hand reaches down for your clit to stimulate you further to get closer to your release which he noticed. Kiyoomi’s quick to grab ahold of your hand and keep it pressed against the glass as he continues to groan into your ear, saying you don’t need to do that when you’ve got him.

“M’not letting you cum alone.” Kiyoomi pauses for a brief moment before taking out his cock from your gaping hole, causing you to whimper from feeling so empty without him being in you.

When you turn around to face him with a slight pout on your face, he picks you up and slams you against the cold glass. Awoken from the mind numbing pleasure, your headspace is in for a slight shock when his slightly swollen lips meet yours for another long kiss as if he were a starved animal.

He’s backing away to slip back in his throbbing cock into your dripping entrance as he’s pressing your back further onto the glass walls of your shower. Kiyoomi’s holding onto you so tight, not letting you go anywhere as he continues to fuck you brainless, feeling all the sensations when your bodies continue to rub up against each other.

His twitching dick and your throbbing cunt, the lust in the atmosphere, the sounds that echo off your wet bodies as the shower runs, Kiyoomi’s almost at his end point. Both of you are sore and stimulated to the max as he releases his white cum into you, coating your plush gummy walls with his white paint. You’re both still, trying to pick back up your unmatched breathing.

“I’m sorry.. I got carried away,” he’s panting while pulling out, kissing your forehead as a gesture to ask for your forgiveness as you continue to cling onto his broad shoulders.

His essence seeps out of you and drips onto the bathroom tiles as it gets washed away due to the warm running water. You’re trying to regain your composure as he continues to hold you in his arms, Kiyoomi’s fingers moving away the stray wet hairs that clung onto your forehead while looking into your starry, but droopy eyes peer back into his while you mumble out an it’s okay.

“You’re too beautiful” he whispers to you before setting you down to help finish washing you up before bed.

masterlist here

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grxndprix · 1 year ago

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𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐢𝐚.

𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴 — 𝘺𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘦! 𝘮𝘦𝘨𝘶𝘮𝘪 𝘧𝘶𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘨𝘶𝘳𝘰 𝘹 𝘧𝘦𝘮! 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

𝘵𝘸 — 𝘳𝘢𝘱𝘦/𝘯𝘰𝘯𝘤𝘰𝘯, 𝘴𝘮𝘶𝘵, 𝘢𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘩 𝘰𝘧 𝘯𝘰𝘯𝘤𝘰𝘯, 𝘦𝘹𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘦 𝘺𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘦, 𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘴𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘪𝘮𝘢𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯, 𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘰𝘧 𝘯𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦𝘢, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘭 𝘦𝘹𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘬 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵

It’s an odd thing, she realized. Practically lunacy. Rapt, her hand traced the outline of her collarbone, eyes following the motion in the mirror. Maybe she hoped for a lag in the reflection. This was a trick mirror, it had to be.

The muted olive walls of the bathroom closed in on her. Dim lighting, an orange-ish tint to the bulbs. Far too saturated, suffocating, she was choking herself out as thoughts swarmed around her mind. Lips parting in a quiet denial of the situation, she almost missed how her whole body was trembling.

[name] ran fingers through her hair in an effort to ground herself. Purple bruises and red bitemarks littered across her neck and collar, she flinched at the memory that came with them. She didn’t wear concealer, so she wouldn’t have any in her purse. Imperfections of her face bubbled up, but it wasn’t enough to rip her attention away from the marks.

Jujutsu High was supposed to be a safe haven. It was supposed to be somewhere she could focus on strengthening her skills, somewhere she could escape her ignorant and awful family — But tragedy tends to follow those who combat it the most.

A shaky breath, and [name] crumbled to the floor in a heap. She could hardly breathe, scratching at her skin, rubbing furiously at her body as her cries echoed in cracked whispers, “God, please get it off— Get his touch off— I-I can’t—” She hiccupped, tears rapid in their descent down her face.

Her knees ached from the coldness of the tiled floor, bathtub in her peripheral suddenly looking more like a coffin than anything else. She wondered, for a moment, — If she filled the tub with water and let the crystal substance fill her lungs, would she feel clean?

Bring her to the forest, dump her body on the grass. Nature will be gentler than any man.

Megumi Fushiguro wasn’t a bad man. That’s what [name] believed. She saw his stoicism as gentleness to the world. She saw his silence as peace. And, of course, she saw his potential as a sorcerer. She was the one who brought it to his attention, just before Gojo even got the idea to talk to him.

The girl had approached him just before he was to close his room’s door for the night.

[name] smiled softly, eyes not meeting his as she tried to step out of her comfort zone. “I just think you have a lot of amazing things you’d be able to do! You can bring out your potential, I just— I think you can pull it out of yourself, hon’, I really do…” She dared a glance up into his eyes, suppressing a wince when he had been looking at her the whole time. “If that makes sense, of course! Sorry, I don’t know why I—”

She was cut off by a quiet laugh. It wasn’t harsh or biting, not even mocking — It was a genuine, soft laugh. Finally turning to look at him properly, her heart almost fluttered. He was smiling, eyes crinkling upward at the notion. Despite her hesitation, he looked so… happy. He was shining, honestly.

“ Thanks, [name]. I, ah, needed that.” He ran a hand through his fluffy raven locks, gunmetal hues resting on her face. Unmoving. His cheeks were dusted a light pink. She internally breathed a sigh of relief, laughing with him. Her own smile was made even brighter than before, cheeks starting to hurt.

Megumi almost brought his hand up to affectionately ruffle her hair, but stopped himself. He could hold on for a bit longer, he could— He observed the crinkle in her eyes, the bags under them, the moles, the light in her pupils, and suddenly, he recognized life as short.

[name] had to depart, she decided with a glance at her phone. She didn’t want to ruin the moment, but she’d promised Itadori a hangout. She was about to wave goodbye, the words settling on her tongue— If not for his hand shooting up, grabbing her wrist before she could even try to pull back.

The countdown started. Megumi liked to believe he was great at keeping all of his true thoughts and feeling under wraps.

[name] didn’t flinch. Why would she? She’d gotten comfortable with Megumi, there was no reason for her to—

Oh.

His eyes had darkened. She didn’t think it had been possible, really, but all the memories of her family had come rushing back. A tidal wave of sin, the sudden recession of an ocean. She looked at their intertwined hands, then back up at his face. Something in the air had shifted.

The girl gave a cautious tug at her wrist, eyes no longer possessing the strength of contact with his. “Ah, I gotta go hon’—, Promised Yuuji I’d hang out with him.” She experimentally tugged again, but to no avail. Her lips turned the slightest bit downward.

Perhaps the scariest part was Megumi’s silence. The way his eyes fell dull, completely unlike the smile on his face just moments before. Was his previous grin sardonic? Did she not catch the undertone? His grip on [name]’s wrist only tightened a considerable amount, brows creasing together in a look that mirrored— What, betrayal? Annoyance? Was she being annoying for trying to leave?

“...Megumi?” Cautious. She realized her tone was cautious. What changed? Just a few minutes ago she felt completely comfortable with him, she was at peace and felt that he was someone she could trust, but now—

She didn’t get the chance to respond. The quiet of the hallway sank in quickly as he yanked her feeble frame inside. A yelp, but it reached no one as the door slammed shut.

[name] turned to Megumi, eyes wide and pupils just shaking with fear. Silence, as it was, spoke fucking volumes. She hadn’t noticed it before, the way his gunmetal blue eyes dragged along her body, sizing her up like lamb to the slaughter.

He took a step forward, dorm floor creaking with the notion. She took one back. It took a second, but her flight instinct kicked in. Turning on her heel, [name] went for a mad dash for the backdoor. It led to his balcony, so maybe if she jumped and ran for Yuuji, or Gojo Sensei, or Nobara—

A single hand caught on her hair and pulled. A wounded whimper left the girl’s throat, body crashing right back into the ravenette’s. She struggled as much as possible, but it didn’t do much when he just got her right up against the nearest wall.

Those gunmetal eyes carried the embers of hell, she thought. Despite her weak whines and cries, the devil’s whispers painted fluttering kisses to cloud any sane thought she hoped had burrowed into Megumi’s mind.

He pinned her wrists above her head, frame completely devouring hers as he dove in for a kiss. She squirmed under him, trying to turn her head, but one of his hands only held her chin in place. This was her worst nightmare turned ten times more malicious.

His hands roamed her body with the desire of Eros, the pursuit of Persephone from Hades, the longing of Pothos — A man possessed by tragedy. She had to be his lyre, the instrument he used and used and used and used—

[name] cried out as his teeth sank into the soft of her neck. His tongue seemed to lap up the blood easily, as if an apology for his unbridled animosity. He treated her like glass he knew could be repaired. Delicate, but made for shattering.

Megumi seemed to hardly use any strength to rip the front of her shirt open with one hand, leaning down to pepper his kisses down her chest. The tattered remains of her shirt and bra fell to the floor, leaving the upper part of her body completely vulnerable and to his mercy. Teeth on skin, marking, sucking — He was making sure no inch of her didn’t carry him.

A breath, and [name] almost thought he’d come to his senses with the way his ministrations paused. However, she was proven wrong when he moved to remove her bottoms too. His free hand reached down and began to rub circles on her, now, exposed clit. She writhed as much as she could, breathless pleas falling from her lips as his long fingers worked their way inside of her, eliciting even more pained cries.

The boy didn’t offer a response, much too lost in everything about the moment. She was under him, whimpering because of him, this wet because of him— What else could he ever ask for?

In one swift movement, Megumi lifted her thighs to rest around his waist. He had pulled his sweatpants down enough to rub his erection against her bare pussy. She winced at the movement, head thrown back against the wall as his grip tightened around her wrists. A quietly strained groan left his throat, the first noise he’d made this whole time.

[name] bit her tongue so as to not offer any other response that may satisfy, resorting to quietly struggling against him again. He, of course, did not budge one bit. The horror she felt before only increased when the head of his cock started to push into her. A strangled cry, eyes squeezing shut as he sunk deeper and deeper into her warmth.

He groaned quietly again, just letting his hips rest against hers for a moment. It didn’t last very long though, as he slowly started to roll his thrusts into her, face buried in her neck as she kept her head held high against the wall.

The thrusts started off fairly slow, but he really just— couldn’t get enough. Megumi hissed a quiet ‘fuck…’, pace increasing a great amount. She tried to hold back, but her back had already arched the tiniest bit, canines digging into her lip.

The brutality of how he fucked her just got worse and worse, and soon enough the whole dorm was full of both of their strained moans, skin slapping against skin, thumps against the wall. She couldn’t take it anymore, tears streaming down her face for a while now as she begged him to just stop, stop, stop—

But it doesn’t take a genius to see how he was far too deep in to tap out now. Megumi’s groans and soft whines echoed against the wall, and he couldn’t care less that Yuuji could easily hear them from the next room over. If anything, that was good — Maybe Yuuji’d take the hint after hearing her moan his name instead.

[name]’s breath quickened, climax approaching, but the sick feeling of being taken advantage of like this, the dirtiness that came with an orgasm from such a sick person— She couldn’t do this. She didn’t want to, she never wanted to.

Pitch black hair bounced with each pronounced thrust, but his pace grew sloppy. [name]’s breath hitched at the slow realization. It felt like the world had come crumbling down in an instant, and her fear grew impossibly larger.

“M-Megumi— Not in– Not inside, please—” She stammered, but it really only came out as a whine or whimper than a command.

Like always, he didn’t offer a response. He just kept fucking into her at that same brutal pace, before his hips stuttered along with her pleas — And before she knew it, he was shooting ropes of white into her tight walls.

Breathing heavily, Megumi’s hips stayed against hers again, just relishing in the heat pulsing between the two of them. After a few moments of panting and an intimacy she wanted to rip from her body, he let her thighs uncoil from around his waist.

The boy pulled out, juices running down both of their thighs as he tucked himself away. [name] slumped against the wall, in a pool of her own ripped up clothes, completely open and vulnerable to the man who had taken advantage of her. She tucked her knees into her chest, eyes blank and empty as she tried to catch her breath.

Megumi ran a hand through his hair, light sweat catching onto his skin. He clicked his tongue gently, seeming to weigh his options before pulling her up into his arms. She flinched violently, and that only got another click of his tongue. He brought her into the washroom, running a warm bath and shutting the door for the sake of privacy. Ironic, isn’t it?

Which… leads to…

Right now.

[name] ran a hand down her face, breaths significantly slower but still short. She was completely out of touch right now, eyes swirling with fatigue, blankness, and something akin to horror.

Standing up, she found it in herself to at least wash the parts she felt most dirty, but as she pulled on the spare clothes Megumi had given her, it didn’t make her feel any better. She took a heavy breath, giving it a once-over in the mirror. The oversized shirt hung low enough on her neck to expose all the marks and bruises littered all over the skin, and he hadn’t supplied her with a bra either. No matter what, she was exposed to him.

She blinked the fatigue in her eyes away for the sake of trying to figure out an action plan. If she can exit his dorm right now, get to one of the higher ups and report this, hell, even Yuuji—

Yeah. She can do that. She rubbed her eyes, lashes damp with still fresh tears. She can do this. Her hand went to the door knob—

But the door swung open itself, Megumi stepping in and shutting the door behind him. He thought himself to be good at keeping his true thoughts and feelings under wraps at all times, he really did — And yet, as he pushed the terrified girl up against the sink, teeth sinking into her neck once more, he knew it was bullshit.

Rome wasn’t built in a day, but it sure as hell burned in one.

𝘱𝘭𝘴𝘴𝘴𝘴 𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘴 𝘨𝘶𝘺𝘴 𝘪𝘮 𝘣𝘦𝘨𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘪 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘧𝘶𝘦𝘭 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘥𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘪𝘴 𝘢𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥𝘥𝘥 𝘰𝘬 𝘱𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘦𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘹 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘶 𝘨𝘶𝘺𝘴 ☆

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holdinbacksecrets · 11 months ago

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shadow, my shadow, my shadow

seungcheol: his name in your phone is cherries. no one gets it. it confuses all your friends. people don’t take the time to dissect what’s right in front of them. instead, they hope the answer will drop, release from its stem all on its own. here it is: he stains your skin; he fills your belly with laughter, with love, and it’s deep, an alluring maroon. the only color you ask for at the nail salon. the only color painted across your lips on a friday night. the only color saturating the sky in your dreams

jeonghan: he’s always just a telephone call away. he’s always just a handful of dialed digits away. he’s always close enough to touch before slipping away. he’s never close enough to believe. he’s a really fucking good dream, but it falters as soon as you wake up. he’s an almost. he’s an if only i had better luck

soonyoung: his embrace is overwhelming. it used to burn your skin. it used to keep you up for a night or two. it used to make you shake and press your hands against his chest, whispering too close, you’re too close to me. so you started to lay out in the sun and welcome the warmth. you started to visit tucked away cafes and drink delicious beverages. you started to welcome the love without argument, and his embrace became divine comfort, soft serenity, warm weather

wonwoo: your ceiling is beautiful. you’ve watched it for hours like a science project or a call to worship. sun rays display themselves so beautifully across it, covering crevices, blanketing stark white in something ethereal. you called in sick to work and haven’t looked at your phone since. you’ll stay just like this until nightfall and an embrace turns you away from the canvas high. he pulls you into him, whispers your name against your skin. you wonder if he says it as a reminder

seokmin: he’s beautiful. his constellated moles create your favorite sky—stars close enough to touch, and you’ve always wanted to touch stars. you drew fishing poles for three years as a kid, imagining a bucket filled with stars knocking your leg on the journey home. it sat beside number one on your christmas list, hoping santa clause would make a dream come true. he let it simmer, kept you waiting for a decade, kept you waiting long enough for the desire to slip, kept you waiting for so long that the real thing surpassed the imaginary

mingyu: he baked cookies for your birthday because you don’t like cake, and there’s something about the texture of frosting you can’t quite get behind—can’t trust the silky smooth. he brought home the milk that comes in a glass bottle. it’s delicious and thick and warms your heart with sweet nostalgia. you open his gifts first because he asked you to, and you find a beautiful goblet that’s the color of summer peaches. he fills it to the rim with glass-bottle milk. he fills his goblet too and presses a candle into the stack of cookies. the wish arrives as soon as you close your eyes

chan: he stands behind you in the kitchen, rests his chin on your shoulder while the sun rises. you’re early risers too. never were before. then this love unraveled in your living room, and you crave more of the day

#seventeen imagines #seventeen scenarios #seventeen reactions #seventeen blurbs #seventeen angst #seventeen fluff #seungcheol scenarios #jeonghan scenarios #soonyoung scenarios #wonwoo scenarios #seokmin scenarios #mingyu scenarios #chan scenarios

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risuola · 1 year ago

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ummm hello! idk how to say this without sounding like a request :)) but I read some of your writings and I really love them 😭🫶 when you have the time and inspiration, or if you want to write something really fluffy and comforting and idk romantic with teen geto? like idk, both reader and geto are studying in jujutsu high, they are best friends and one night reader can't sleep and sneak into geto's room and talk with him about things idk and they end up together.

just if you want. thank you 🙏

SLEEPLESS NIGHT — GN. READER x GETO SUGURU

It was one of those nights that kept you up. You just couldn't fall asleep, no matter how much you tried and the view of your own ceiling began to drive you insane. You decided to pay a visit to your school friend.

cw: pure fluff, both are 18 years old — 1,8k words

a/n: asking me if I want to write fluffy suguru? the answer is yes, always. thank you for the suggestion! also, thank you for the kind words! it means the world to me that you enjoy my writing dear 🖤

You couldn't sleep. It was one of those nights when thoughts kept piling up in your head and you couldn't find any comfort in the softness of your pillows. Listening to music didn't help either, your concentration was off, everything seemed wrong, and as you lay there with your eyes wide open, staring at the dark ceiling, you decided to get up before you completely lost your mind.

Maybe some water would help? Or a snack. Yes, a snack would be great. With that in mind, you pulled a hoodie over your pajamas, the one that you stole from one of your classmates, and headed for the vending machines outside the dorms on tiptoe, careful not to make too much noise. Everything had been dark for hours now, the clock read almost 1am, and the last thing you wanted was to be scolded by Yaga for walking around campus at night. The man had no chill.

"Gotchu," you mumbled, fishing the chocolate bar out of the compartment at the bottom of the machine. On your way back, you noticed the faintest streak of light coming from under the doors of one of the rooms. Suguru's room.

It took you a minute to think, staring blankly at the door. Maybe he was asleep and forgot to turn off the lamp? Or maybe he couldn't sleep, just like you? Both of you had been under a lot of stress lately, and you know from your own experience that if you try to hide your problems during the day, you will definitely suffer at night. So, you approached the door, carefully pressed your ear to the wood, hoping to find out if he was sleeping or not, and finally, you gave in and knocked softly. The quietest hum answered, and then a series of small sounds that led to the doors opening.

In the dim light of his bedside lamp, Suguru's form met your eyes. His hair was down, slightly disheveled, and he wore only shorts. He clearly wasn’t sleeping yet, but probably tried to force himself to doze off.

"Come in," he whispered, pulling you in gently before anyone noticed you weren't in your own room. "Can't sleep?"

"Yeah..." you sighed and followed him to his bed. "You?"

"Same," he motioned for you to get in, and as you slipped under the covers near the wall, he did as well, making sure you had enough blanket and a pillow. It wasn't the first time you sneaked into his room late at night, you'd been in his bed before, but usually the two of you were on top of the sheets, so this was new. You didn't complain though, you're quick to get chilly. He turned off the light so no one would notice your little escape to his room. The darkness was comforting and you were sure if that’s because of his warm presence next to you. Darkness in your own room seemed cold.

"What's bothering you?" he finally asked when you were both comfortably on your backs. The question got you exhaling deeply, melting into the cushioned surroundings, saturated with his scent. The comfort of his room, his bed made you wish it was a place you could come back to every night. You always look forward to any activity that involves Suguru Geto and sometimes you’re lucky to share a mission with him. There is a suffocating feeling of longing inside you that you couldn’t really act upon.

"I don't know, it's just... it's a lot of everything lately. I feel like I'm not good enough to be a sorcerer, I find myself helpless more often than actually useful. It sucks," you muttered, and it felt good to get it off your chest, to say it out loud. Joining Jujutsu High was something that gave you hope and the opportunity to help people. You wanted that, to use the weird things that your body can do to bring safety to others, but somehow you couldn't find a place for yourself. "Everyone around me is so amazing... I mean, the first years, Nanami and Haibara are both so cool. Shoko is amazing with her reverse curse technique. And then there's you and Satoru on a completely different level."

"You're too harsh on yourself, y/n," Suguru said, his voice soft as honey, and without fail, the tone in which he speaks your name always makes your heart skip a beat. Geto has a way about him that really draws you in. To say that you have a little crush on him would be an understatement, but you kept it to yourself. Having him as your best friend is enough for you, you wouldn't trade it for anything else in the world, and you would never risk making your relationship with him awkward if the feeling wasn't reciprocated.

"You're strong," he smiled, still looking up. "And you really are doing great. It's just our reality that not every time we can help others. Sometimes, we fail. Even Satoru fails, believe me. I fail too."

That made you chuckle.

"You always seem so perfect in everything you do."

"Oh, don't be fooled," he shook his head slightly. "I am far from perfect."

"Thank you, Suguru," you whispered finally. "What bothers you?"

"I'm not even sure..." he exhaled and tucked one of his hands under his head. "There have been a lot of missions, a lot of stressful situations, and Satoru obviously takes everything so lightly because he can. I mean, he processes everything in his own way, I'm sure, but for me... I feel like it's weighing me down a lot."

"There's a lot on your shoulders. Strength always comes with responsibility," you whispered, grabbing the hand he'd raised from its place on his stomach and stroking it with your fingers. It was a small gesture, but it made Suguru sigh softly as the warmth of your fingers radiated through his palm. Somehow, the smallest touches from you, even the accidental ones, held a power over him that he himself didn't quite understand. Sometimes he'd catch himself thinking about you, his mind wandering to where your image was saved and his body aching for anything connected to you. Those tedious car rides when your thigh would be pressed against his as you sat between him and Gojo, or those long train rides the two of you had to take sometimes when you would stand up with your arm wrapped around his middle because you couldn't comfortably reach the top handle so you held onto him instead. Every little brush of your fingers against his hands, every single one of your touches is stored in his mind and cherished, along with every mental picture he took of you smiling or scrunching your nose so cutely. Yeah, Suguru is head over heels for you, and those sleepless nights when you come to his room are sacred to him.

"I guess so," he said finally, letting his body relax, pushing away the tension. "But I feel the same way you do. The people here are out of this world, and even though I'm, let's say, strong or whatever, I often feel like I'm still lacking so much. It's frustrating. And my technique... Disgusting, really."

"I find your technique amazing," you muttered quietly. "I mean... you told me about the taste, and I get it. But I feel like... I don't know, most of our techniques are purely destructive. Isn't it incredible that you can take the curses that already exist and use them to do good? To fight, to protect people, shit, you can fly with them. That's so dope."

"You think so?"

"Yeah, I do."

He sighed, as the quiet once again filled in the air. Silence between you two always was relaxing. It felt natural, carrying no awkward undertones, as you focused a little longer on drawing circles on the palm of his hand, and he allowed you to do it without thinking much about it.

"It reminds me a bit of our first days here," you began again, keeping your voice down, not much above a whisper. "We were both so clueless about everything, and after the first few days, we met here and talked about everything on the floor."

"And we ate the frozen pizza that we tried to heat up on the stove," Suguru chuckled as the memories flooded his mind. "God, it was awful."

"Hell yea, it was," you joined in the laughter. "But I loved it."

"I liked it too. Time with you. It's always grounding. Not the pizza though."

"Definitely not the pizza," you agreed.

Suguru was a safe place for you, and as the two of you continued to talk about sweet little nothings, reminiscing about the two years you had already spent together in Jujutsu High, sharing muffled laughs and long exhales at everything you found funny or sad, you found yourself urging to tell him about your feelings. You shouldn't, you knew that, but sometimes you felt like maybe, just maybe he might like you back? He is always so warm and open to you in a way he isn’t even to Satoru and they are basically brothers.

"Suguru?", you finally called his name after a little while of silence. Flipping to your side, you analyzed his slow and regular breathing, his eyes closed, and you thought he might be asleep already, but he hummed softly in response, encouraging you to continue. "I... I like you. I really like you." Your voice was barely a whisper, but in the silence of the night, you were impressed that you could speak so loudly about the feeling you’ve been keeping to yourself for almost two years now.

You watched him for a moment, his beautiful profile that even in the dark you were able to admire, but nothing changed in his stance. His features were still neutral, his chest was still rising in serenity, and you thought that maybe he really was sleeping. Maybe the hum he gave you was not a response, but rather a random noise he made. That's probably for the better, you thought and closed your eyes, exhaling and hoping to get rid of the tightness in your chest. But Suguru shifted, slowly turning his body towards you and carefully wrapping one of his muscular arms around your frame, pulling you to his chest. Your entire being heated up in shock, but somehow the tension quickly faded, leaving you relaxed as never before.

"I really like you too, y/n," he whispered against your hair, planting a kiss to the top of your head. Smiling, you snuggled even closer, pressing your ear to where his heart beat.

"We're gonna get in trouble if I stay here," you whispered, having no intention of getting up.

"Yeah, probably," he murmured, tightening the embrace, closing every gap between the two of you, and you could feel him relaxing as sleep began to overtake him. "Seems like a tomorrow problem; Not gonna worry about it now."

"Good night, Suguru," you smiled, closing your eyes and melting against him.

"Good night, y/n."

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chouxsardine · 11 months ago

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Warm Honey---Jake Kiszka x reader

A short blurb where me imagining getting high with Jake and listening to classical music ended up turning into some jake-playing-guitar worship and stream of consciousness smut. I just feel it's so sexy when your partner can feel the effect they have on you, and I'd like to think Jake loves that. 18+ content below cut. Enjoy!

Warning: 18+! Minors DNI, Drug use (marijuana), sexual content, body worship (kind of)

🎧: Scriabin Sonata No.4 in F sharp major, Op.30

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He is all that you can think of, all that you feel.

Whenever you smoke joint with Jake, you always like to describe your mind as being “in a stake of Jake”. He is not occupying the space as the subject. Instead, he wraps around it in an all-encompassing way. He exists as the warmth of a blanket, a scene from the rear view mirror, the tingling on your skin as the wetness from an open-mouthed kiss evaporates.

Jake is sitting on the floor with his back against the couch, you are lying down with your head on his lap. The air is damp, saturated with the earthy smell. Jake just lets out a puff of smoke. You look up and blink. The light of the floor lamp is hazy through the smoke like the moon halo. Rachmaninoff is playing at a low volume in the background. The title of the melody escapes you. It could be Symphony No.2 or something like that. You are too far gone to put any effort into trying to recall it. Life feels really good at this moment, and that’s all you want to focus on.

Jake’s hand is resting in your hair, occasionally scratching your scalp or swirling the soft strands near your hairline around his finger, sending buzzing shivers under your skin. You squirm a bit, reaching above to grab his hand in yours. The sensation of being in touch with human flesh clashes with your stupefying illusion. Suddenly, Jake’s hands become the most interesting thing in the world.

If Jake is sober enough to look down, he will find you staring at his hand intensely with dilated pupils. The skin around your eyes is tinted with a fluffy shade of pink. And you are staring with the fervent passion of a child looking into a kaleidoscope for the first time, stunned and in awe. His hands are warm. Nails always blunt and well-trimmed, receded tamely behind the finger tips. Veins visible under his skin, knuckles strong and sturdy. You hold up his hand higher to the ceiling, looking at the light seeping through the slits between his fingers as if he has magical powers.

His hands truly are magical. The way he makes his guitar whine and moan on stage. You close your eyes briefly, recalling the way his right hand firmly grasping the neck while the palm of his left hand resting on its rear body. Sometimes he does that devious thing where he pushes the guitar back and forth as if shaking someone’s shoulder, the intensity of it cushioned by their connection through the strap, thereby creating a tensile and magnetic stretch between them. Once, you asked him why he would do that; “it helps with the trills and echoes,” he said, flashing you a smirk. You don’t believe him for one bit. When his fingers slide across the fretboard in an elegantly frantic speed, you wonder why there aren’t sparks bursting out because it surely looks like swiftly striking the head of a match against the side of the box. And you love the way he does tremolo, oh, the dazzling movement of his fingers on the higher end of the fretboard, his ring finger and pinky curved, alternating so smoothly that it looks like he is tickling someone. Well, it surely tickles your heart. And your pussy, if you are being honest. That’s when you feel it. The wetness sneaks up on you slowly. Jake always turns you on at the flip of a switch, the blink of an eye. Normally, you are already soaked as your mind is preoccupied with the yearning for his mouth, his fingers, and his cock. However, the weed amplifies all senses. This time, you can almost feel the titillation trickling down your spine, like morning dew collected on rose petals.

Without much thought (not that you can form any coherent ones now anyway), you hold up his fingers, make them spider-walk across your belly before lowering them down into your panties.

Jake lets out an amusing humph. With all the sensory stimulation stealing his words, he’s not much of a talker when he’s high. Your communication during times like these are almost telepathic—you could tell from just a simple raise of his fingers that he wants another handful of chips, and he could tell just by the slightest turn of your head that you want another hit. He always jokes that you read each other between the lines. The reassuring silence weaves a velvet blanket that falls and lands on both of you in a floating manner.

You look up and find him looking down on you with a lopsided smile. So lackadaisical that it’s almost goofy but smug nonetheless. He quirks his eyebrows, and you put up a finger against your lips.

“Shh.”

You’ve always known that Jake loves to watch. He gets so hard just by watching you getting yourself off, using all of his willpower not to come in his pants while somehow managed to take mental notes of your preference. He always looks down the moment your bodies connect, whether that’s him entering you or you sinking down on him. His mind is always blown by the way he disappears into you bit by bit and your malleability to adjust him. It’s almost like you were made for each other. The combination of the visual image and the physical sensation short-circuits his brain. The sigh and moans that escape him drive you crazy. Jake loves the process as much as he enjoys the maddening pleasure. And this time, with the weed delaying the need to fuck each other, you would like to let him experience that.

At first, it’s just his dry and warm palm covering your lower belly, his finger slotted between your fold, with his finger pad resting against your hood and finger tip grazing your clit. You feel he move, instinctively wanting to rub it.

“Nuh uh,” you tightens your grip, “I want you to feel it, babe.”

You are certain you are getting there. You can almost picture it, like honey slowly descending down the wall of a glass tube. It’s an agonizingly slow process, like a golden snake with malicious intent, twisting and turning its body; its expected sweetness drawing out the moisture of the mouth, causing one to salivate.

Ah. Here it comes.

Without meeting his gaze, you know that Jake feels it too. His fingers have long familiarized themselves as the hierarch of the territory which is your pussy. He has learned, through time and experience, the prelude of your arousal. Every respond is picked up by the tactile receptors on his finger pad and his muscle memory. Much like with his guitars, Jake is always caught in an affectionate paradox when it comes to your pussy—he walks this ground with confidence and pride over the possessiveness he has over it, albeit constantly carrying a veneration for its beauty and the sincere humbleness to learn and explore.

The previous friction has now transformed into a gentle rise of temperature and the coated slickness provided by your discharge. Your clit presses more firmly against his finger tips now that it starts to swell and throb.

“Damn, love, can almost feel your heartbeat.” Jake grunts, his words a bit slurred.

“That’s the point,” you arch your back, feeling vainglorious about your little trick, “my tell-tale heart. Feel what you do to me by simply existing?”

“Gosh, you’re gonna end me one day,” Jake tilts his head backwards, his eyes rolling back too, “but I wouldn’t want it any other way. And the epitaph would say, ‘gone doing what he loves’.”

You laugh, knowing that the filter between his brain and mouth has melted away now. Meanwhile, you are getting silkier and warmer by the second. Jake feels like he dips his finger into a jar of honey, the snugness of your walls trapped him there. He’s an insect preserved in a sea of saccharin, captivated by the moment as the waves wash over him again and again, reminding him that he is the reason why his girl is so turned on, he is the reason why this body lying against him coordinates all its nerves and cells to produce such an amazing response to his touch.

You can hear the clarinet playing in the symphony. If your memory serves you right, it won’t be long until the allegro vivace of the last movement kicks in. You look up at Jake’s face again. He swallows, his Adam’s Apple trembles in a way that makes you want to take a bite. With his eyes closed, his eyebrows pulling together, and his lips pursed, that man looks like he could be having an orgasm right there. It’s almost whimsical, given that he is the one who has his hand in your pants. You let out a low chuckle.

“What?” He cracks open an eye.

“You know they said weed slows people’s movement?” You quip, tapping your fingers provocatively over his, a sultry tone in your voice.

“Oh,” Jake’s eyes darkens, the familiar devious smile shine through his relaxed features.

“Now, those are fighting words, doll. You wanna test them out?”

--------------------------------

#jake kiszka #jake kiszka smut #jake kiszka fanfic #greta van fleet smut #gvf fanfiction #jake kiskza x reader #jakedown

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theresattrpgforthat · 4 months ago

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Do you have any recommendations for games with fantasy pirates and tactical combat? I've really been enjoying running Pirate Borg, but I'm missing my crunchy strategy mini games. Thanks for everything you do for the community!

Theme: Tactical Pirate Fantasy

Hello friend, so by ‘tactical’ my best guess as to what you’re looking for is games that provide your characters with multiple options when it comes to resolving conflicts, with some options being better than others. This may or may not include maps in combat, but I think it might also include environmental considerations, buffs or de-buffs for using specific pieces of gear, and accounting for range or position when firing a gun.

However, really tactical games are much harder for me to find, probably because there’s so much math that goes into them. I did my best to give you a range of options, but I’m not entirely sure how well any one of these pirate games match your definition of ‘tactical’.

Bilge Rats, by Games by Cass.

Take to The Sea of Mischief and gamble your life away on high seas adventures as ratfolk pirates. Chase buried treasure, hunt wannabe pirate lords, and engage in some all together unsavoury action in Bilge Rats: A Sea of Mischief. This 78 page guide has everything you need to get your adventures on The Sea of Mischief up and running--except for the d6 dice, cups, and pencils you're gonna need. So, dust off your tricorn caps, get your cutlass shined, and get ready to set sail!

Bilge Rats’ form of strategy is probably unlike what you think of when you think of a tactical game, but I think it’s interesting and worth taking a look at! The basic system is centred around a game called “Liar’s Dice”, which involves rolling, bluffing if you don’t succeed, and calling other’s bluffs. You roll a pool of d6’s, with the difficulty being determined by a) the minimum number to beat to be considered a success and b) the number of successes you need to do the thing. As a player you’ll have to decide when a roll is worth bluffing, and if you enter PVP, it’s also about determining when your opponent is bluffing - challenge someone when they’re right, and you’ll pay the cost!

That being said, I think the most tactical part of this game comes into play during naval battles. Your character type is called a “Duty”, which determines your role upon the ship, your order of initiative, and a number of skill values. You’ll also have to consider wind speed, wind direction, and the roughness of the waves every time you engage in combat on a boat, so making strategic choices to improve your odds is probably pretty important.

The Runed Age, by Stormforge Productions.

In a world where magic and technology have fused together, where the limits that man is capable of have been broken, where a man can destroy the world with a stroke of a pen, the poor starve and the rich prosper off the blood of innocence. A world that should be a utopia has been turned by greed and pride into a battlefield where the poor wage war in the shadows for the ambitions of the wealthy. You are one of these scoundrels, these rogues, these pirates who struggle for the sport of the rich to achieve the glory, the riches, the power to break your chains and surpass the limits of The Runed Age.

The Runed Age is built on the Sigil System, a robust d100 roll-under system that allows you to play as narratively or simulationist as you want. The d100 genre of systems is a tried a true roleplaying method, and what sets the Sigil System (and thus the Ruined Age) apart from the rest is its combat and wounds system, which reflects the stresses and rigours of combat on the body to make combat as realistic as possible. This means that every fight in the Runed Age is a gritty, epic and lethal struggle for survival where you need to be prepared to do your best just to outlive your opponent.

The Runed Age is saturated with magic, using Runes as a mechanic to write your own spells. The openness of the system means that players have a lot of control over what they do with their magic, but the game definitely rewards system mastery because every time you try to write a spell, you’ll have to consider fiddly bits like power, range, and control.

When it comes to rolling dice, the system is heavily inspired by Call of Cthulhu. One review I found for this game mentions a possibility for tactical play, so I’m assuming that combat is more survival than CoC. If you want magic to be a significant part of the game, you probably want to check out The Runed Age.

Blood & Thunder, by Black Flag Printing Press.

You are a cutthroat aboard a pirate ship, seeking the fortune and glory that awaits those strong enough to take it. Brave the waterways of Erda and get rich or die trying in this nautical piracy TTRPG.

Lethal combat meets reactive gameplay at the infantry scale. Board, capture, or sink enemy vessels with naval play. Boasting rules for three dimensional range-finding and movement, even a regular swim in the ocean can become a deadly hazard as you're ripped apart by sharks, sea monsters, or something far worse.

Blood & Thunder is definitely fantastical, just judging from the races that you can choose from. Like D&D, your character choices are pre-packaged with stat bonuses and special abilities, but unlike D&D, you us a d100 for most of your rolls. Difficulty levels range from 0-100, with a limit on what you can even attempt to do depending on how high your skill rating is. If you can roll, you’ll aim to roll under your max skill rating.

Character levelling is also strategic; you need to meet certain requirements to take specific careers. Combat is also pretty dependent on a grid map, which I interpret to mean that range and positioning are two factors that you’ll have to consider, as well as an action economy that ensures that you’ll have to make your moves count.

Pirates and Musketeers, by Andrezj Buhlak.

The 17th century was rich in interesting events, political intrigues, bloody wars, and sea voyages. This book is a gateway to this fascinating period of history. If "dry history" is not enough for you, you can spice it up with fantastic assumptions, including vampires, werewolves, sea monsters and ancient ruins.

Pirates and Musketeers uses the Year Zero engine, which provides you with a number of d6s to roll that come from your base traits, character skills, and character gear. You have the ability to “push” your roll should your initial effort fail, which you will likely do often, as only 6’s are considered a success. However, should you “push” (or “re-roll”) your roll, any 1’s that you roll will also inflict penalties, doing damage to a stat or your gear. This means that in many stages of game-play, players will be balancing how much they value success against how many consequences they’re willing to face.

Language-wise, I’m not really a big fan of the way the game uses the term “savages.” The time period in this game is at the strength of many colonial empires, and some of that definitely bleeds through, so pick up this game with caution.

Caraval Crew, by iotsov.

A low fantasy TTRPG that focuses on sailing ships.

Right now, as far as I can tell, Caravel Crew is untested, but it has a lot of pieces for you to pick up and fiddle with. Combat has a lot of different kinds of options for your characters to exploit, with different outcomes if you bash, stab, shoot, parry, grapple, etc. There’s different weapons that are useful for different skills, and getting new weapons costs gold - an important resource to track. You’ll have a number of resources that you’ll need to keep track of and monitor, including hit points and something called EP.

On top of that, there’s also social and survival rules, so if you want a game that gives you engaging combat while still giving thought to other parts of the game, maybe pick up Caraval Crew and take it for a test drive!

24XX Skeleton Crew, by Jonah Boyd.

Dead men DO tell tales… on the other side. Skeleton Crew takes place in the sailor’s purgatory, Davy Jones’ Locker. When one dies at sea, their soul is brought to the Locker for a vast voyage to judge their fate. Some sailors only spend a few days in the Locker, but many form swashbuckling crews to preserve their non-lives for weeks, months, or years before judgement calls.

24XX games are another approach to the OSR (the same house of game design that fuels Pirate Borg), but use different-sized dice to represent a larger skill. I think there’s still more chance than strategy here, but again, this is a game that you could probably pull things from and then put into another system if you’re looking flavour.

The few fiddly bits that do exist in this game are things like different kinds of ships and different toys to put onto the ship - two things that you might be able to tack onto a game that doesn’t currently think about them, and thus opening up more pieces to consider should you get into a fight. Your ship could also come with flaws - what happens if you get in a fire-fight with a ship that has misfiring cannons? How might that complicate the battlefield?

You can also combine this game with another similar 24XX game, such as 14XX Golden Age to broaden your character origins or give yourself a few extra rules toys to play with.

Islands of the Far Sea, by Kindred Spirits, and Lilliputian, by ManaDawn Tabletop Games.

Islands of the Far Sea is a pirate-themed hack of Chris McDowell's Into the Odd, taking place in the Islands of the Oddworld. Play as one of seven Failed Careers in your new days as a Treasure-Hunter!

Lilliputian: Adventure on the Open Seas is an adventure game about exploring the vast and expansive ocean, filled with uncharted islands, hidden treasure, weird weather and unspeakable horrors. Character creation is fast, fun and random, classless, and relies on fictional advancement. It is based on Mausritter by Isaac Williams, Into The Odd by Chris McDowall and Cairn by Yochai Gal, as-well-as so many more.

Into the Odd and Mausritter use the same bones, and both of these game books acknowledge that inspiration, although Lilliputian also draws quite a bit from Cairn. I don’t consider either of these games to be tactical games - but what they do have is possibilities that can be imported into other games. The Failed Careers from Islands of the Far Sea are packaged skills and gear that you can give a character to start with. They will then have to figure out how to make their kit work for the problems they walk into.

Lilliputian also has specific rules for naval combat, as well as lots and lots of random tables. I think more than anything it communicates a specific vibe, but taking a little bit from one game and a little bit from another is one way to customize your experience - as well as give your players more options when trying to figure out how to tackle their next salty obstacle.

#pirates #seafaring #sailing #indie ttrpgs #tabletop games #game recommendations #dnd #asks #indie ttrpg

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poundingprincess · 5 months ago

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Blushing and Beeps

Here’s another, much, much longer piece about a cardiophile couple below the cut! It might be slightly unrealistic because I don’t know if vital sign monitors actually have audio or not, but oh well!

Summary: a cardiophile woman who’s just had an operation (successful - we love fluff over here) and her cardiophile boyfriend enjoy how the vital signs monitor has an audible ECG. (Mostly fluffy, somewhat smutty? Nothing explicit.)

Ryan can tell when the anaesthesia has worn off because Jessie is no longer slurring her words, but the biggest giveaway is how her wide eyes dart back and forth between the vital sign monitor and her boyfriend’s face.

“You good, baby?” he chuckles, amused at how her eyeballs seem to be playing ping pong - up to the monitor containing her heart rate, blood oxygen saturation and respiratory rate on her left, then up to him sitting in the chair on her right.

“I didn’t- I didnt realise it was audible,” Jessie stammers, referring to the high pitched beep, beep, beep in time with each heartbeat.

“You were pretty out of it, but I didn’t expect it to affect your hearing too. You seemed to reply to me pretty fine.”

His eyes study her face - she’s avoiding his gaze, a telltale sign that she’s feeling shy. He fights the urge to smirk - it would be pure evil to revel in how flustered she’s getting, right?

“Well,” he snorts, “not exactly fine, you were saying some weird things…”

“Shit,” she hisses, dropping her voice to a whisper, “I didn’t mention… you know, did I?”

He laughs, a little too loudly, then covers his mouth, not wanting to wake anyone.

“No, baby,” he smiles, leaning in towards her ear, “you didn’t mention your raging heartbeat kink.”

He pulls back, relishing the sight before him - a bright red paints her cheeks. Their gaze remains locked for half a dozen or so rapid beeps before he averts his eyes over to the monitor.

“85 BPM, huh?”

“Funny how you said it was my you-know-what,” she teases, “I haven’t looked at the number once.”

“Liar,” he scoffs, “now that you’re not preoccupied with your surgery worries, I’m sure you have space in that kinky little brain of yours to indulge while you can.”

Jessie realises he has a pretty good point - she wasn’t able to enjoy the ECG and the pulse oximeter earlier because she was so tense. But now the stakes are practically zero, so indulging in her cardiophilia kink would be a low risk, high reward activity. And a good way to relax.

But is it ethical? And how, exactly? It’s not like she can rub one out or fuck in the middle of a ward.

She glances down at her boyfriend’s crotch and is greeted by what’s at least a semi peeking through his sweatpants.

“Uh,” she giggles, “Ryan-”

“Don’t,” he groans, being the one to blush now, “I know.”

“Sooo, how come?”

“I-” he sighs, leaning in again, not wanting anyone to hear, “I promise you I wasn’t like this before. I couldn’t be, not when I was stressed - I promise that I am turned off as fuck when there’s a genuine medical reason as to why your heart is being monitored.”

“Trust me,” she smiles, feeling strangely relieved and even more fond of him (if that was possible), “I couldn’t be either. It’s funny how context plays a big part.”

“I think it’s because I know you’re okay now. Like you normally are when your heart’s the focus of my attention.”

She bites her lip. “I can’t lie, knowing that you can hear every beat right now is so fucking hot.”

“God,” he groans, and she shivers from his hot breath against her ear, “it is. It’s making me want to make it even faster.”

As if they’re both thinking the same thing - what effect did that have? - they glance at the monitor in unison.

83 BPM.

“I really wanna see a PVC on the ECG in live time,” she whispers, “but I don’t know if that’d set off the alarm.”

“Tr-”

Before he can agree that it might be risky, the curtain is pulled open by a too-cheery nurse.

“Jessie!” he smiles, “good to see you more alert. I’m just going to run some obs if that’s alright.”

Ryan flashes a discrete wink in her direction as the nurse reaches around his neck to retrieve his stethoscope. Stethoscopes have always been his girlfriend’s kryptonite.

“O-Okay.”

“Is that a Littman?” Ryan asks, moving his hands in front of him to cover his semi.

Fuck, Jessie thinks, I am going to kill him. His tone of voice would be perceived as innocent to anyone else, but only Jessie - just as intended - is able to hear the air of ‘I enjoy flustering you, my love’ that his question is laced with.

“Uhhh,” the nurse murmurs, turning over the bell (but thankfully not his face towards Ryan), “yeah, it is! Do you work in healthcare?”

“No,” he says, before a hearty laugh escapes his throat. “No, I, uh- it’s a cliché, right?”

“I mean, they’re the best of the best,” the nurse shrugs, “clear heart sounds are essential for diagnosing things like heart murmurs-”

He clears his throat, interrupting himself. “I’m sorry, I’m rambling. I forget that I can’t nerd out to people like you guys.”

“Yeah,” Jessie says shakily, forcing herself to laugh a little.

If only the poor nurse knew.

“Alright,” he sighs, “it looks like I can’t get this under your annoyingly long gown without the bottom being lifted up. Is that okay?”

Jessie nods, her tongue darting out of her mouth to wet her suddenly dry lips. She hikes up her gown to the middle of her torso, grateful that she’s wearing underwear - the only man who’d ever be allowed to listen to her heartbeat whilst she’s naked was not the one currently holding the stethoscope!

It takes everything in her to not whimper as the diaphragm touches her chest.

She wonders if the nurse can still hear the beeps of the vital signs monitor, then realises that both her and her boyfriend can hear just what he can, minus the lub-dubs of the valves. Knowing that they can both hear how fast her heart is racing makes her clit pulse.

Jessie looks at the nurse and prays he doesn’t see her eyes widening. When she realises he’s looking past her, she lets herself quickly look at the BPM displayed on the monitor.

85 BPM. Real cool, Jess, her inner monologue tuts.

Her eyes dart back over to her smirking boyfriend. As smug as he’s trying to appear right now, his cheeks are also flushed, which amuses her.

“Take a deep breath in for me and hold it, please.”

Jessie’s cheeks burn as she complies.

As she holds her breath, she can feel her heart beating harder against her chest. Against the diaphragm. Her clit throbs again - it’s all becoming too much for her, and she’s sinking into that sweet, fuzzy headspace of submission.

“And exhale for me.”

Her exhale is embarrassingly shaky, and she hopes it isn’t picked up on.

The nurse pulls the diaphragm away, and Jessie is reluctant to let herself relax. Surely he’s going to auscultate her chest throughly, or go to her back next, but he doesn’t.

“Sounds good,” he nods. “I’ll be back in a bit.”

The couple watch him put the stethoscope back around his neck and smile at them before walking out and closing the curtain again.

The second the curtain closes, Ryan stands and stares at Jessie in disbelief.

“I didn’t know “some obs” meant a brief listen to tricuspid before fucking off.”

“Ry!” she gasps. “Don’t be so rude.”

“I’m not!” he says, throwing his hands up in the air, “I’m just saying that I would’ve done a much better job at listening to you and making sure you were okay.”

The look in her boyfriend’s eyes - a stern gaze of lust and possessiveness - combined with his words makes Jessie swallow. She feels so small and protected right now.

“I know,” she whispers, as he walks towards the bed.

Ryan sits down on the bed and leans forward, brushing a few stray hairs behind Jessie’s ear. He leaves a long, gentle kiss on her cheek, then leans back and stares into her eyes.

“Listening to your heartbeat is a fucking privilege, Jess. It’s the thing that keeps you being you - my beautiful girl.”

Jessie can’t fight the smile that tugs at her lips in response to his affection.

“I know it’s silly, but I was worried while you were under. You know, like, what if you didn’t wake up or something.”

She giggles. “You know that’s rare, right?”

“Yeah,” he shrugs, “couldn’t help it though.”

A warm fondness fills Jessie’s chest - her boyfriend wasn’t usually one to be so lovey-dovey and vulnerable, so he must’ve really been worried.

It’s the worry that’s making him so affectionate… right? Surely not being able to hear every beat of his girlfriend’s heart?

Ryan places his hand in the centre of her torso, a hesitant look on his face. “Can I?”

She bites her lip. “You know it’ll probably make me… you know… right?”

“What?” he whispers, “horny?”

Jessie nods.

“Are you comfortable with being horny here? It’s totally okay and understandable if not.”

“Yeah,” she gasps, “I mean, I already, uh…”

She swallows and squeezes her eyes shut, suddenly shy and unable to finish her sentence.

“Awww,” Ryan laughs, “does being stethed really have that much of an effect on you?”

“Mhmmm,” Jessie squeaks, her eyes still closed.

Ryan taps in time with each beep of Jessie’s pounding heart against her sternum. “Can I move my hand up, love?”

Jessie frantically nods her head, and Ryan’s heart skips a beat at the view - his girlfriend looking utterly adorable and flustered, her cheeks bright red.

He drops his voice to a low, quiet rumble. “Use your words, princess.”

“P-Please,” she murmurs, “please feel my heart racing for you.”

Ryan beams at her, and wishes she could see how precious he thinks she is.

“Open your eyes, baby,” he coos as he places his hand over her left boob.

Jessie does, and is flooded with complete overwhelm that sends a warm pool of pleasure straight to her lower stomach.

Her boyfriend’s bright blue eyes filled with love, the rapid beeps of her heart rate filling the space between them, his hand placed firmly over her heart… it’s all so much, making her involuntarily whimper.

And then they both feel it - her heart stumbles against his hand.

If they weren’t so caught up in the moment, they would’ve heard it too - a very messy beep-beep, beep.

Their heads both immediately snap over to the continuous ECG on the monitor, and there it is - a tall peak followed by a pretty little dip in the graph, along with a reading of 90 BPM.

Jessie’s cheeks burn at the sight - she feels like she’s just been caught doing something utterly filthy. Her boyfriend just gave her a PVC, and there’s undeniable proof in front of them both.

And he’s going to milk this to tease her with forever.

“What was that, hmmm?” he teases.

“Oh, God,” Jessie groans, burying her head in her hands. “At least it didn’t cause some kind of sound like I was worried it would.”

“Nuh-uh,” Ryan says firmly, gently pulling her hands away from her face, “you’re going to look at me and tell me what that was.”

“You know what that was!” she whines. “You’re so evil!”

“I want to hear you say it,” he grins.

“PVC,” she huffs in a hurry, unable to make eye contact.

“I guess I’ll accept that,” he chuckles, “what caused it, huh?”

“I-I don’t know! I just feel so…”

“Exposed? Vulnerable? Observed?” Ryan offers, repositioning their hands into Jessie’s lap.

“All of those,” she breathes, “how’d you know?”

He can’t help but smile. “Because if I were you, I’d be feeling the exact same way. I’m fucking dying to get home and listen to her beat for me.”

“You kinda already can, though.”

“I can hear how fast she’s beating, but I can’t hear her.”

“Put your head on my chest?” Jessie asks.

“That’s an offer I’ll never refuse.”

Jessie shuffles to the right side and Ryan walks around the bed to lay on the left.

“I wish the monitor was on the other side,” he groans as he gets comfy, “I’d love to see the electrical activity as I listen.”

“I think we should buy a portable ECG,” Jessie muses. “Hey, watch the electrodes! You’re not supposed to even be in this bed.”

“Sorry, baby,” Ryan laughs, “I don’t know where to put my head. I kinda forgot about these because they were covered.”

Jessie pulls up her gown, making Ryan accidentally moan at the sight.

He clamps a hand over his mouth. “I hope no one heard that,” he grimaces.

“So… you like?” Jessie asks, her voice coming out smaller than she’d have liked - she was going for sexy, and ended up seeming timid instead.

“Fuck, baby,” Ryan breathes, “I love. Can I take a picture?”

“You can take a video if you want. Of all of this.”

Ryan jumps up from the bed and grabs his phone from the chair. He stands at the foot of Jessie’s bed and nods as he hits record.

Ryan walks over to the viral signs monitor.

“86 BPM,” he hums, “babygirl’s been loving this. We witnessed a PVC on this a minute ago too.”

His phone pans over to Jessie who doesn’t know what to do with her face or her hands. She settles for a wave.

“Pull up your gown, princess. Show me how pretty you look with the electrodes on your skin.”

Jessie complies, her clit throbbing at his praise.

“So gorgeous,” Ryan murmurs, “looks like we’ll be buying ourselves a portable ECG.”

He then pans his phone down to the outline of the boner in his sweatpants.

“I’ve been loving all of this too,” he says, dropping his voice to a whisper, “I wish we could listen to her heartbeat as she cums for me.”

Ryan locks his phone, throws it on the chair and climbs back into bed next to a speechless, blushing Jessie.

“Can I kiss you?” he asks.

Jessie gasps and nods, already breathless.

His hands cup her cheeks as he pulls her head towards his.

Jessie wishes she could focus on both the rapid beeping of her heart rate and how soft and warm his lips are, but the latter seems to be winning.

Ryan softly sucks on her lower lip, and Jessie gasps into his mouth.

“You like that, baby?” he murmurs against her lips.

“I’m so wet,” she whispers, “I need you so badly.”

“Not today, princess, I’m sorry,” he whispers back, “you have to be a good patient, don’t you?”

Jessie shivers at “good patient” - somehow it hits just as much as “good girl” does for her. Probably because she’s spent countless hours fantasising about Ryan being a pervy doctor who rewards his good cardiophile patients with lots of praise and attention on their hearts.

“Can we roleplay this? When we buy the portable ECG?” Jessie asks, eyes still closed and lips still touching Ryan’s.

“If you’re a good patient.”

“Fuck,” she breathes, “stop calling me that.”

“Why?” he asks, his voice laced with amusement, “will you have another PVC for me?”

“Maybe,” she giggles, before closing the distance again.

One of Ryan’s hands travels up to Jessie’s neck - a safe place to feel her pulse, since there’s no electrodes there. He pushes his pointer and middle finger against her carotid vein in classic fashion.

Jessie can’t help but whimper at how awfully clinical that, and all of this is.

Ryan pulls away and admires the mess he’s turned Jessie into - her parted lips slightly swollen, heavy breaths escaping them, and her eyes wide and desperate, screaming I need you.

“I’m not risking us getting caught,” he laughs, fondly. He glances over at the vital signs monitor and smiles.

“20 breaths a minute, huh? Do I really make you that breathless, baby?”

“I guess so,” Jessie pants, both loving and loathing his constant (and secretly successful) attempts at flustering her.

“Well, you know what I say - good girls get to breathe, so breathe for me, sweetheart.”

“I already am!” she laughs.

“No, no,” Ryan playfully tuts, sitting on the edge of the bed. “Look into my eyes and breathe when I tell you to, like a good girl.”

“Fine,” Jessie whines, squeezing her thighs together.

“Breathe in and keep looking at me,” he says.

Jessie complies, butterflies swarming in her stomach.

“And out.”

Jessie exhales, but Ryan tuts again.

“That was too quick of an exhale, my love. We want to slow your breathing down, don’t we? Try again.”

Jessie breathes in again and waits for Ryan’s instruction to breathe out, but it seems to be taking a while.

He has a cheeky grin on his face, almost testing his girlfriend’s ability to be obedient. The longer she’s holding her breath, the more prominent each of Jessie’s heartbeats are, which doesn’t help with her horniness.

“And breathe out.”

Jessie tries her best to exhale for as long as possible, but she really wants to complain, so she second she thinks she’d exhaled for long enough, she groans.

“Fucking hell, Ry, I’m not a swimmer! I can’t hold my breath for that long.”

“Don’t worry,” he says, “I was only messing with you, I like you alive and breathing, and you could’ve breathed whenever you wanted. But look, it worked.”

Jessie looks at her respiratory rate, which now reads 12 breaths a minute.

“Much better,” he says softly, “good girl. That heart rate is looking better now too - 68.”

“You know that talking about it makes it higher, right?”

Ryan can’t contain the massive, cheesy smile that stretches across his face at her cuteness. “I love you so fucking much.”

He never thought he’d find someone like him - someone with such a niché turn on. But he did, and she’s his, and she’s okay.

“I love you too,” Jessie purrs, “I wish you could always see just what you do to my heart.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Whose heart?” he jokingly asks.

“Oh, yeah,” Jessie giggles, “my bad. Your heart.”

Suddenly, the curtain opens again.

“What’s all this about hearts?” the nurse from earlier asks.

“Oh, you know,” Ryan says, trying to play it cool, “the usual romantic shit, nothing medical.”

The couple lock eyes, Jessie’s sending a silent plea of my heart rate’s about to go up if he steths me again and Ryan’s saying I hope you’re getting discharged.

#cardiophile #cardiophilia #female cardiophile #heartbeat kink

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saintsugu · 1 year ago

Text

BAD HABITS. KINKTOBER DAY 2

rating: mature; mdni

pairing: rindou haitani x fem!reader

wc: 6k

content warnings: explicit content, bonten timeline rindou, sort of cnc/dubcon, drugs (pcp + laced weed) + a fairly unrealistic depiction of a high (rindou’s side), mentions of violence/murder, degradation, slight slut shaming, choking, oral (f!receiving), slight usage of a safe word/action.

author’s note: reposted fic !

You let out a deep breath as nicotine saturates your senses. It’s a feeling you’ve been familiar with for a while now. Your body feels lighter and your mind is more at ease. You know that it isn’t true peace, but it’s nice to feel it momentarily—even if it’s fake.

Everyone has their vice, their own little escape from this wretched life that they lead. Drugs, sex, alcohol, whatever it might be. Whether we recognize it or not, we use it, and we abuse it to help ourselves.

You haven’t really found yours. You’ve found small things that help you calm down and cope a bit, but you haven't found that special depravity. You’ve smoked several times with Sanzu— even dropped acid with him on occasion— but it never appealed to you as much as it did him. Ran’s invited you to go drinking as well, but you aren’t a heavy drinker like him. No matter what it is, nothing gets you off like it does with the other people here. Maybe it’s because you have a bigger chip on your shoulder— or maybe there’s no reason at all.

The sound of traffic has always helped calm you, though. You figure that it’s because you grew up around it. Since getting high or drunk doesn’t scratch that itch, over the years you’ve found that the best thing you can do is go up to the roof for a smoke.

“Thought I’d find you up here.”

“I came up here for peace and quiet,” you don’t need to turn around to know who’s standing behind you. “It’s no longer peaceful or quiet with someone else up here.”

“Funny.” It’s as if you can hear the way he rolls his eyes when he speaks.Rindou knows exactly why you come up here, so he sees straight through your answer easily. “Why’d you really come up here?”

“Sanzu’s high out of his mind and it’s annoying me.” He hums in agreement, but doesn’t say anything; as if he’s waiting for you to continue. “And I’m sick of all this infighting,” you begrudgingly admit.

Today, nothing went as planned and everyone’s been blaming each other. Takeomi pissed Rindou off during the mission, so naturally, Ran is pissed at Takeomi. Sanzu somehow believes that Kakucho is at fault, and like usual, Kokonoi has done nothing but fuel the fire with his snide remarks. The worst part about it all, is that you don’t even care. You just want everyone to shut the fuck up— or for better lack of words, you just want some goddamn peace and quiet.

“There it is.” Finally, you turn your head around, solely to shoot him a glare. “Come back inside with me. I’ll get your mind off things. We can fuck around, it’ll be fun.”

“Wow. Way to sugarcoat things, Rin’.”

“I didn’t mean it like that.” You hear his quiet chuckle decorating the words, and you swear your lips curl up in amusement at the sound.

“So what, you have new drugs you want to try?” You raise an eyebrow, exhaling a cloud of smoke into the air.

“Correct, but you don’t have to try them with me. Just want you to keep me company, in case I, you know, go into cardiac arrest or something.” A small laugh bubbles out of your throat, despite the joke really not being that funny. You worry about Rindou a lot— all of them, truthfully. Your feet feel heavier than usual as you follow him back down the stairwell.

Rindou is a lot different when the lights go dark and you’re left to yourselves. He’s a lot less guarded. You figure it’s just because he doesn’t have to worry about keeping up appearances, with Bonten or his brother, but either way, it makes you feel good that he trusts you enough to be a little vulnerable around you.

“So, what is Sanzu on for him to be pissing you off so much?” He muses.

“Shit ton of acid,” you answer, cringing at the memory of the man talking in his circles. He was rambling on and on, yet you couldn’t even understand his words due to the speed at which they left his mouth. You nodded in your head out of pure confusion for nearly 15 minutes before escaping to the roof. “He was about to snort a line before I left, too.”

“I don’t blame you for leaving.”

Currently, you’re staying at Bonten’s base. Most everyone has their own place, but sometimes they still stay here regardless. Sometimes it’s safer, and for others, it’s just more convenient. For you, it’s the latter.

The only current people occupying the building right now are you, Sanzu, and Rindou. Haruchiyo’s access to drugs is more limited when he’s at his own place— due to Mikey’s rules— so he ends up spending more time at the base. And Rindou is only here because his brother’s fling of the week is staying in their shared apartment. You, on the other hand, don’t really have a reason. Just like them, you have your own place and you go back to it sometimes, but it feels so lonely compared to here.

The elevator stops on the fifth floor, which serves as a lobby and leads to everybody’s rooms. When the doors open, Sanzu is sprawled out on the couch. Little white lines decorate the glass coffee table, as well as a credit card and a few opened pill bottles. Sanzu isn’t going to die from a gun or a blade— you swear his own addiction is what will kill him in the end; you pray that you won’t be around to see it happen.

“What do you have in store for us today?” You ask as you follow him into his room and he closes the door behind you.

His room is fairly bland. The walls are coated with the same base of gray that decorates yours as well as every other executive. The room’s layout is similar to your own, but with his bed against the middle of the wall, it feels a little less spacious. Small piles of clothes clutter his wooden floor— taking up whatever space isn’t already covered by his rug. It’s not exactly messy, per say, but it’s not spotless, either.

It’s probably because you were just outside, but you can’t help but notice how incredibly hot it is in Rindou’s room. It’s nothing he hasn’t already seen, so you have no qualms about unbuttoning your dress shirt and letting it hang open. Still, you don’t miss the way lavender eyes flit down to the blue fabric for a moment.

“Let me find it.” His words are mumbled together as he kneels before the nightstand beside his bed. “I hid it in case that little shit out there came looking for it.”

It’s noisy as he knocks around things in the drawer, not trying to even be remotely gentle as he looks for it. It doesn’t take long for him to shut the drawer and stand up with a small baggie of pills in his hand.

“Ta-da,” he simply says, sliding onto the bed with you.

You aren’t as knowledgeable as the two bonten executives when it comes to drugs, so you ask, “What is it?”

“Angel dust.” There’s a small grin on his face as he opens the bag. “Knabbed it off the shipment from last week.”

“Ah,” you nod, watching as he pulls out three of the little white capsules. “You seem excited.”

“Cause I am,” he chuckles. “I’ve been wanting to try this shit for ages. Do you think three is too much?”

You softly nod your head in agreement. “Maybe a bit,” watching as he drops a pill back into the bag and the leftovers into his mouth.

There’s a soft smile on his face as he turns his gaze to you. “Now we wait.”

For a while, you were against this—the drugs, but you learned to deal with it, even to participate in it. You’re a fugitive, a truth that came a little too harshly for you. You realized that in the end, it really didn’t matter for people like you. You’re able to gamble with your own life as much as you want because you have no idea the next time you’ll come home from the field. So, people like Sanzu and Rindou will find their freedom in little white pills, while you sit back and watch, silently hoping nothing will go wrong.

A few minutes of silence pass before he speaks up in an alarmed tone. “Oh shit, I got something special for you, too,” he mumbles as he crawls off the bed and returns to his place on the floor. “I almost forgot.”

His search is faster than it was the first time, but as he stands up, you watch him stumble a bit. His hands are quick to grab the edge of his nightstand and you swear that his grip is so tight that he could splinter the wood.

“Rin, you okay?” You figure the drugs are kicking in, but even so, neither of you know how thiswill affect him.

“Yeah.” His voice is shaky and you watch as he squeezes his eyes shut; more than likely trying to focus on something other than whatever shit he’s currently seeing. “Just give me a moment.”

You’re sitting up now, eyes trained on him and chest filling with worry. He takes a deep breath and then returns to his spot on the bed. “‘m okay now.”

While he changes the cart in his wax pen, you settle behind him. You let your hand run up the sides of his arms until they reach his neck. He lets out a low and quiet moan as you dig your fingers into the skin. You continue on and when he drops his head, taking it as an opportunity to press a kiss into the side of his neck.

His voice sounds light as he chuckles, “Shit, you’re good at this.” You feel him shiver as you lick a stripe up his neck and he’s quickly turning his head away. “Stop distracting me or I’ll never get this shit done.”

He returns to the work he was doing and you lean your chin on his shoulder, eyes fixed on his hands and the way they move. He swaps out the carts and throws the old one into the trash can a few feet in front of him. “Here, it’s for you.”

“Ooh, lucky me,” you chuckle, taking the device in your hand and lifting it to your lips.

You take three large inhales and return to your assault on his neck as you wait for them to take effect.

In contrast to your usual highs, it only takes about five minutes for it to start to settle in your system. The hits wash over you like a tidal wave. Usually, three would barely be anything for you, but this… “Holy shit, this isn’t regular weed, is it?”

“It's spiced,” he answers, words sounding tired and a bit slurred.

Intense wouldn’t even be the right word to describe it. You can feel everything and it’s almost nauseating. Even the low-light of Rindou’s ceiling fan is overwhelming your brain. There’s an odd buzzing from outside in the hall, and it’s far too loud for your liking. God, even your clothes make your skin itch. In an attempt to feel better, you lay back down on the bed. As soon as your back hits the matress, he’s there right next to you, greedy hands pulling you closer to him.

You’ve had highs like this before, but never from a pen or weed in general. You’re too aware of everything going on. Rindou’s hands on your body, his warm breath on your skin, the cool draft coming from the vent in the corner of his room—hell, even the clothes you’re wearing.

You flinch as his tongue makes contact with your skin and it’s no surprise that you’re also more sensitive. You suck in a deep breath, trying to focus on something in the room to calm yourself down. “You didn’t just bring me up here for drugs, did you, Rin?” You both know the answer to that question and it’s only confirmed when he chuckles into your skin.

“Maybe not,” he mumbles, not giving you any sort of warning as he sinks his teeth into your tender skin.

“Fuck,” you swear, eyes snapping shut as soon as you feel it. It feels good, yet it’s nearly overwhelming. For some reason, you think eliminating your sight will help rein yourself in. “Rin, you can’t just do that.”

He doesn’t respond, simply flashing you a lazy smirk—that you can’t even see— and tonguing over the fresh mark. “Baby,” he slurs out, fingers beginning to dig into your waist. “Want you.” He lays a kiss on the base of your neck. “Need you.” Another on your collarbone.

It feels so different from every other time you’ve been with him. You’ve been high during sex before, but it’s never been like this. Every touch lights your skin on fire, every word makes your mind cloud with lust. At this point, even if you aren’t voicing it, you’d do anything to fuck him.

“Then take me.” What’s meant to be a statement, comes out as a quiet moan.

If someone were to ask, you wouldn’t be able to pinpoint when exactly this started happening. You’ve known Rin for years and it just of…of…a happened.

You aren’t able to remember the details, but you can remember the fact that you were both drunk and in desperate need of physical contact. It started off as a mistake, then an outlet for stress, and then somewhere along the lines, it morphed into a habit.

Deft fingers fiddle with the waistband of your slacks, and you can tell that he momentarily forgets about the zipper and button because he lets out a frustrated grunt as he tugs at them. You move to do it yourself, but he quickly realizes his mistakes.

You lift your hips when you feel him clutch the fabric and he’s quick to tug the clothing as far down your legs as he can. You help him the rest of the way and your pants end up somewhere on the floor.

“Fuck,” he groans as he sits up, movements a bit sluggish from the drugs. A chill is sent down your spine as his hands grip both of your thighs, spreading them a bit and making you involuntarily clench at the feeling. You swear you can see him drooling a bit at the view.

You try to close them, to push against his hands, but like every other time you’ve tried before, he’s far too strong.

Today’s mission was especially stressful for the both of you. Unncessary killing took place, and while that wouldn’t normally be a big deal for someone as famous as one of the Haitiani brothess, he knows how you feel about shit like that. You aren’t proud of your ‘line of work’, no one here really is (with the exception of Sanzu, maybe), but he can tell that your moodin particulary gets affected by that.

When you two got back— even though you weren’t sure when it would be— you knew you should be ready for him to pull you into his room and fuck you into the mattress.

You made a point of putting on Rindou’s favorite lingerie: a lace and flowery set, a thong with a matching bralette, in a teal color that ‘reminds me of my hair in the old days’. Now, you’re starting to rethink your decision, due to that look in his eyes when he sees them.

“Shit, Rin, give me…wait.” Words are failing you. Your brain feels very overwhelmed. It’s not that you don’t want this, you just don’t know how well you’re going to be able to handle it.

He easily keeps them spread, pinning them to the sheets as if to prove some kind of point. “Gotta taste you ‘fore I go insane.”

He’s painfully slow as he licks a stripe against your clothed cunt. Even though he’s out of it, he’s still using his old tricks.

With your eyes pointed at the ceiling and your stomach tightened out of pure anticipation, you feel the man tap his fingers against the soft skin of your thigh.

“Eyes on me, doll.”

Even his words are setting off something inside of you. It’s as if whatever you took opened up a whole new part of your brain and your body. Now your eyes are staring deep into his as he carefully pulls your panties down. The tips of his fingers drag alongside your hips, the calloused skin tickling your own in a way that makes you almost shiver.

You can’t tell if it’s from the contact, the anticipation of what he’s planning, or just simply the look in his eyes. With the flimsy material out of the way, he runs his tongue over his upper lip and leans closer.

It’s easy to feel his hot breath against your bare skin and it drives you crazy. He starts by leaving messy kisses on your inner thighs, sucking multiple bruises as he goes. He’s surprisingly teasing for a man who’s desperate.

“Rin, fuck,” you swear, breath shaky. “Just do something.”

The first contact his tongue has with your clit, has you quietly moaning, head pushed back a little as you savor the feeling. Sadly, the feeling is short-lived as he quickly pulls away and presses a kiss against your thigh to get your attention.

He stares up at you through tired eyes, and you swear that you have to hold back a moan at his words. “I gave you an order, didn’t I?”

Once your eyes are trained back on him, he returns to his previous actions. His tongue licks a long stripe in between your folds and then a few kitten licks against your clit. He repeats this a few times and it easily gets you borderline panting—especially with the added effect of the drugs.

Your hand finds its way to his hair, and he lets out a deep groan as you grip the strands and push him deeper into your pussy. After one last lick, he takes the puffy bud into his mouth, eliciting a heavenly sound from you. He moans in harmony with you, fingers digging deeper into the flesh of your thighs.

He finds it so cute the way you’re fighting the urge to close your eyes— the way you’re trying your best to obey him. After all, it’s the least you can do after shutting him out all day. He was really worried about you, and it’s up to you to make it up to him with those pretty moans of yours.

You don’t question the way one of his hands leaves your leg, but your eyes shoot open when he pushes two fingers inside of you.

“R-Rin,” you manage to say, the feeling more intense than it has been in a long time. “I don’t think—”

You whine at the loss of contact as he pulls his lips away to speak, resting his head against your inner thigh. “How do you think you’re gonna be able to take my cock, if you can’t even handle two fingers?”

You don’t even have a response, too focused on the way the pads of his fingers brush against your g-spot with ease. He’s sloppier than usual. He doesn’t have those precise and practiced movements that usually have you screaming his name. The drugs are probably responsible for it, but your own drugs are making the experience more than enjoyable.

“Rin,” you moan out, barely even sure of what you’re about to say.

“What is it, doll?” His voice sounds tired, yet it maintains that teasing lilt.

While you struggle to answer what exactly it is, he busies himself by sucking on the fat of your thigh; no doubt littering it with marks.

“I need more.” You barely choke out the words, eyebrows furrowed as you stare at the man in between your legs.

“Sweetheart, no offense, but you can barely handle this.” To further get his point across, he abruptly presses hard into your sweet spot.

You can’t control the loud moan that leaves your lips as your eyes roll back. Your hips jerk against his mouth and you know that you’re almost at your breaking point.

“Besides, weren’t you just complaining that it was too much?”

It’s that unparalleled confidence that has always drawn you towards him. Even though he’s probably tripping out of his mind right now, he’s still as cocky as ever. As an executive, you have a lot riding on your shoulders; a lot of responsibility and a lot of choices to make. So it’s nice to have someone take control every now and then, even if it’s just during sex.

“Please don’t stop.” You can’t even register how loud your cries are, your mind too focused on him to worry about keeping quiet. “Please, Rin, please.”

He can feel the way your thighs shake beside his head and goddamnit, it’s really been way too long since he’s gotten you like this. There’s only been time for quickies before meetings or after missions. He hasn’t had enough time to get you shaking for him in a long time, and fuck, has he missed it.

“R-Rin,” you whine. “Rin. Want to—shit.”

“What’s that?” He hums, a condescending tone clothed by faux sympathy. “What do you need?”

You sound high out of your mind when you slur the words, “I want to cum on your cock.”

He can feel himself twitch when you speak. On one hand, he wants to make you work harder for it, but on the other hand—the compulsive hand that currently has a lot more control in his decision-making— he wants to fuck you, and he wants to fuck you right now.

“Fuck, you’re so needy.” The strangled grunt he lets out sounds animalistic as he pulls away from you.

You whine at the loss of contact, but he successfully shuts you up with his mouth on yours. His hands fumble with his belt as he nips at your lips, too high to worry about how he’s wasting all of your arousal by accidentally getting them on his pants. The kiss is sloppy, all teeth and tongue as he leans his frame against you.

You’re too busy entangling your hands in his hair to notice how far along he is in stripping, the only way you can know is when you hear the sound of his belt hitting the floor.

“Gonna fuck you real good.” Everything he does and says gets you even more drunk. You’re drunk on his taste, his touch, just him. It might be an exaggeration, but you’ve never wanted to fuck him more than in this moment.

You whine his name, hands grabbing at his jaw to pull him closer to you. You moan into his mouth when you feel his tip push into you, slowly starting to stretch you out.

“Fuck, you’re so sensitive,” he curses at the way you tighten around him, making it almost impossible for him to even bottom out.

If it wasn’t for the drugs numbing his senses, he might’ve not been able to handle this. The way you're squeezing him and calling his name, even in this drugged-up state, he’s going to need to get a grip or else he might not last for long.

You arch your back against the mattress as he finally fills you up to the hilt. Your hands travel down to his back, and he moans when you drag your nails against his skin, leaving bright red lines in their wake.

During the time you’ve spent with him, you’ve learned all of his little tells, and he’s done the same with you. You know what makes him tick, what his breaking point is, and how exactly to get him there. You also know that he has a fixation with pain.

Neither of you have talked about it; there hasn’t been a need. It was understood that he liked it in a sexual sense, but for a long time, you didn’t know the nature of it. He can be sadistic when he fights and has always gotten a sense of fulfillment when his skin is painted red, but that doesn’t transfer over to the bedroom. When he’s here with you, he wants to be hurt. Whether that be you pulling his hair or digging your nails into him until he bleeds, it drives him crazy.

His strokes are messy. It’s more of him rutting his hips against yours, rather than fluid motions. Even though it isn’t precise like it usually is, it still feels so damn good. His face is buried into the crook of your neck, hot breath fanning against your skin.

Your chest is pressed against his, nipples rubbing against him through the thin fabric of your bralette as you push your head into the pillow. “Rin,” you gasp out as his teeth bite down on your neck, quickly soothing the mark with his tongue. When his hand slips down and he messily rubs the pads of his finger against your clit, you cum on the spot.

He lets out a growl into your neck as you clamp down on his cock, whispering words of how fucking dirty you are. He wants to cum so bad, wants to fill you up to the brim so much that it hurts, but due to the hallucinogens in his system, he needs extra stimulation to get to that point.

His pace never falters, continuously fucking into your abused cunt. It doesn’t take long for tears to well up in your eyes.

“Rindou, s-slow down.” Unfortunately, your cries fall on deaf ears. He’s too focused to listen to the weight of your words. “Fuck, I can’t—”

“You can and you will,” he grunts.

It hurts but you’d be lying if you said it didn’t also feel good. You don’t know if you physically can take it, but goddamnit, you’ll try your best. You know that no matter how fucked out of his mind he is, he’ll stop if you say the safe word, so you’ll keep that tucked away until the last possible moment.

Tears fall down your cheeks and Rindou has to admit that it has to be one of the prettiest sights he’s seen. There’s part of him that feels bad for this, for pushing you to your limits, but seeing you like this makes him want to tear you apart. He wants to get you to those limits and push you beyond that point.

“God, you’re so fucking tight. Acting like you don’t like this… dirty fucking slut.” His words are followed by a loud and almost pornographic moan. “Sucking me in like this, but bitching about how you can’t take it. P-Pick one—fuck.”

It doesn’t take long for you to cum again. It’s more forced and rushed this time, but it still feels euphoric all the same. Now, as he still fails to slow down, you think you might actually pass out.

You’re sobbing at this point, moaning and whining, begging him to stop, but he doesn’t. He just keeps fucking you like an animal in heat— a beast.

“Rindou, please.” You sound pathetic, you know that, but if he keeps going, he’s going to break you.

“Shut up,” he growls, his hand finding its way to your throat. “You’ve whored yourself out to the rest of Bonten, you can handle this.”

His palm presses against the skin, fingers wrapping against the sides of your neck as he applies minimal pressure.

“I haven’t, please, Rindou..!” You deny his accusations, desperately shaking your head.

“Stop lying to me,” he speaks through gritted teeth as he ruts into you. “You’ve slept with my fucking brother, so you’re gonna take what I give you.”

You and Ran fooled around a long time ago, and it was also a while before anything happened between you and Rindou. He knows it was purely sex and it doesn’t bother him that much nowadays, but sometimes, the thought of anyone else getting to see you like this sends him into a feral state.

His speed picks up and his grip on you tightens. His release is close by, right there on the tips of his fingers, but in chasing it, he’s hurting you. He should feel bad, he partially does, but it feels so blissful that he can’t bring himself to stop. How can he when you’re sucking him in like this?

His palm squeezes your throat in an uncomfortable way, and just like that, your ability to breathe is out the window. It always feels good when he chokes you, but it’s not exactly rare for him to accidentally o a bit overboard.

You lightly tap your fingers against his wrist, three times to signify the ‘safeword’ just as you have every time before, but he doesn’t stop. Your eyes widen in surprise as he keeps applying pressure. At this point he’s pressing you down into the mattress.

You repeat the action, a bit harder this time. You’re starting to panic but he continues. You trust that Rindou would and will never hurt you, not on purpose at least, but this is alarming. It’s never happened before and you don’t know why it’s happening now. Until it hits you.

You didn’t calculate the drugs running through him. His senses are numbed, he probably can’t even feel it. You tug on his wrist with both of your hands, but it still doesn’t get through to him. You're losing your strength due to the foggy feeling in your head, and you’re starting to run out of options. You don’t know what to do. You try and pull his hair, but his only reaction is a muffled moan into your neck.

You’re scared. You’re tired, weak, and far past overstimulated. Now you can’t even breathe. You want to be done. You’ll suck him off so that he cums, but you can’t do this anymore—

All of those thoughts leave your head as he buries himself deep inside of you one last time and reaches his orgasm. As soon as you feel him start to fill you up, you’re cumming with him.

“Fuck, baby—fuck, fuck, fuck,” he rambles, too lost in pleasure to make coherent statements.

His grip starts to loosen up after his high peaks and you gasp for air as it does. Your body is still shaking despite the pressure on your throat being gone. You genuinely thought you were about to pass out. That’s…never happened before. Rindou has always been tentative and in tune with your reactions. The only other time you had to use your safeword, he was backing off in an instant. You let out a shaky breath as you try to gather yourself on the comedown from your high.

When your eyes finally land back on Rindou, he looks scared shitless. Even though he’s exhausted, his energy comes back in the form of panic. He pulls his half-softened dick out as he leans back to look at you. “Oh my god, are you okay? I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

“No, I just—”

“I’m so sorry baby, I don’t—I’m sorry I was so rough. Shit,” he curses at himself.

“Rindou, calm down.” You rub your finger against his cheek and the way he leans into your hand is fucking adorable. “You didn’t mean to, you just didn’t notice when I tapped your wrist.’”

“Fuck,” he groans, laying his head on your chest andturning his cheek to press it against your skin. “I’m so sorry, doll.”

“Don’t be, it’s okay.” Okay isn’t the right word at this moment, but you don’t need him any more panicked or upset than he already is. All that will do is make you more upset in turn. You’ll discuss this again, once you’re both sober.

“What can I do?” He nuzzles his head into you, laying between your legs. “Would a bath help?”

“Yeah, it would,” you smile at him, running your hand through his lavender hair.

What started as a hookup and led to a habit, has now turned into something you genuinely couldn’t live without.

In the end,

Rindou is your vice.

tagging: @chaoticmoonave @dilfhos @kkittycries @enchantedforest-network @seraphdreams

#rindou haitani #tokyo rev x reader #tokyo rev smut #rindou haitani smut #rindou haitani x reader #rindou smut #tokyo rev #rindo x reader #tokyo revengers smut #.kinktober 2023 #.ezra’s writing #.file } rindou

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reallyhardydraws · 1 year ago

Text

2023.

i hope any of you reading this will forgive the essay. i started posting to this art blog ten years ago in 2013 when i was just at the very end of high school, uploading short animations i'd made for one of my final projects, preparing myself for art school where i was gearing up to become an illustration/animation student.

i went into my art foundation course in 2014, still thinking i was going to be going into storybook illustration or with faint hopes of becoming like a concept artist for game/animation, although even then i'd started thinking about patterns...

and then in 2015 i did go into my BA, going in for that illustration with animation degree that... usually when i talk about it in real life, i say didn't really feel like the best place for me. if i think back, the best things i got out of it were two of my best friends, one of whom is now my partner. looking back on my BA era, there's some bits of sketchbook stuff...

and while i was at university my main fandoms were thunderbirds are go and x-men for a bit... these are from the end of 2015 into the beginning of 2016...

then for a little while i was doing this still sort of pastel-ish lineless situation:

and i alternated between that and this thin fineliner type work (pretty sure all of the linearted pieces were done on paper and scanned, and all the lineless were graphics-tablet-only) - it was in this style that i started to offer commissions for the first time too.

and i also had fineliner-lined work in sketchbooks that i coloured with marker and posca pens, the colours of which were generally a bit more intense just based on not being able to slide the hue/saturation around on paper:

also 2016 was when i discovered the spongebob musical just after it's trial run in chicago (which ended in july of 2016) and i started making fanart at that point... which would have the biggest effect on the way i drew (and i did end up handing in a piece of spongebob musical fanart as one of my art school homeworks lmao)

from summer 2016 until early 2017 things were still quite soft and pastelly in my digital art, colour-wise:

and then suddenly everything got whacked up to 100% on saturation. also i was using the binary tool to give everything really thin pixel lineart for some reason.

then i went on vacation in summer 2017 and didn't draw for maybe a month? just short of? and when i came back i decided to change everything up again... giving characters blobbier, more ugly-cute faces with large squinting eyes and big nostrils and i was worrying a lot less about making anything look smooth, lineart-wise. i turned off the pen stabiliser in SAI and let it wiggle.

then... the spongebob musical opened on broadway in late 2017, i went to see it live in person for the first time... and my whole brain was ENTIRELY consumed by my love of it. i was putting that david zinn inspired pattern explosion into everything, even if it wasn't sbm fanart.

as we go into 2018, i started colouring my lineart. my biggest interest was still broadway musicals (with spongebob at the top of the list)

i think summer 2017 - early 2018 is probably my favourite art era, i was at my most bright and colourful and exciting... although i know in my actual real life i was struggling a lot with my home situation and i had been for some time. art was definitely my escapism back then, and i think a lot of the time i drew really bright, joyful stuff to try and inject that feeling into myself.

as for my university work, i was putting my focus into 3D paper-mache puppets:

and i was also starting to do more repeat patterns, mostly inspired by things around me. i'd learned how to make patterns actually tile and repeat in 2017, so made a few during my time at uni just to accompany some of my projects, but never as the focus of them. one of my university tutors told me that maybe i should put more focus on doing surface pattern, and maybe applying it to textiles, but i said i wasn't interested.

i graduated from my BA in the summer of 2018, and immediately began volunteering at the whitworth art gallery doing anything i could - stewarding, helping with arts and crafts, dancing with families...

in 2019 i was still very colourful... i was trying out more chunky colouring on characters skintones that i think was def inspired by tumblr artist jadenvargen:

but the blobbyness and ugly-cute style of drawing faces was gone by here, and i think... the way i drew characters probably had better *anatomy*, proportions were maybe a bit more realistic...

in 2020 i started adding the black shading to under the chins and some other places on characters' bodies because i started watching the anime my hero academia with my brother, lmao (and i was starting to pastelise colours a bit again, these are the most pastel-ish examples) my lineart has really smoothed back out too, though i never turned my pen stabiliser back on in SAI. i think my hand just adjusted. probably seems a bit insane to miss that, but i do.

by the end of 2020, the almost-year of lockdown over cobid had... made me a bit insane, i think, and i moved out of my mother's house and into a flat with a friend from university.

in 2021 i think things were much the same... i think from this point on is where things have sort of settled. i don't want to say stagnated, but i do think things have been very... like this for a while.

2022 - got the most exciting examples out...

also i was very into these little frames in 2022.

and then on to 2023! in 2022, i did begin trying to shift gears a bit -- hoping to put more energy into sewing and making products (like my tutor has suggested back in uni, even though i'd really resisted the idea.) i sold at a few in-person markets during winter of 2022, but got disheartened by the amount of money i had to sink in up front to sign up for a spot...

which has made me VERY grateful for the people who have supported me via online sales. it has really helped me stay afloat in 2023 - AND it has felt more wonderful than i can describe that there have been people interested in my work... especially when a lot of it has been my original designs, rather than the fanart that i expect a lot of people initially followed me for.

i've also... in the past 2 years... branched out a bit more when it comes to 'being an artist' - and have had the opportunity to deliver arts & crafts workshops with local refugee & asylum seeker support charity, afrocats. it's taken me to their home base in a church to hotels across the city where asylum seekers were temporarily placed while waiting on their new homes, and of course to my beloved whitworth art gallery, where we welcomed visitors from all backgrounds: from the typical white middle class visitors the gallery usually expects, to all the refugee visitors coming into the space for the first time.

and through my volunteering at the whitworth, i showed up so often they decided they might as well pay me. so i've also become a facilitator of... creative play sessions, my favourites of which have been outdoors. monthly, year-round, we have 'outdoor art club', where i get to paint with mud and make potions from leaves with kids & families - here you can see me tell you a little bit about it in this video below with 'crempog' a puppet character that makes videos about activities for kids and families around manchester (my bit starts at 01:10 although i am in the intro and thumbnail haha)

youtube

and then of course the summer 'PLAYTIME' activities we've had the past two years: scrap studio in 2022, and play market in 2023. it's the best freelance gig ever -- just to hang out and encourage families to be creative and have fun.

youtube

in working more in these new avenues... outside of being - as i've called myself for a long time - "an internet artist"... i've found myself more interested in this sort of thing. in being a "real world artist" too. in doing surface pattern design, and being a workshop facilitator, i find myself wanting to put more energy into these sorts of projects.

in 2023 i've also dabbled a little bit more in youtube videos! i have had a channel for a while and have made videos in previous years, but 2023 has been the year i've done the most in. admittedly most of them haven't been about my art, and more just like... random things that interest me (the spongebob musical in particular) but i've really been enjoying video editing. that's kind of an art form too, so i'm including it here!

moving forward, want to keep putting even more of my energy into other things. my shop, with a bigger range of products to offer. workshops in real life, where i can make a difference.

as for my art blog... i feel like i've done the least drawing in many years in 2023, and... well, things have been weird and complicated for a bit in my real life. i hope to draw for fun a bit more again very soon, and to return to doing things in more of a wild and crazy way, to be more creative and exciting with the way i draw things. still, here's some of my favourites from 2023:

thank you so much to everyone who has borne witness to my art journey this past decade!!! i hope you will stick with me, who knows, maybe for another 10 years if tumblr holds out. especially a big thank you to everyone who has ever commissioned me, or bought anything from my store, you literally keep me able to make art at all and i cannot, cannot, cannot overstate how much it means to me.

i'm moving homes soon, possibly into very cramped temporary conditions for a little while before HOPEFULLY starting my real life with my partner. if i can take one more moment to plug my work, then [here is a link to my online shop] and [here is my ko-fi page too.]

cheers, cheers, cheers!

- LOREN 🌈🍍🎉

#also: i did post. monster high and steam powered giraffe fanart on my main blog when i was in high school #in 2012/2013 it seems like i did absolutely LOADS of fanart for both of those fandoms but didn't cross-post it to my art blog #and uh. well. i'm not about to do it now hahaha #art summary

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calxprince · 6 months ago

Text

❀ LOVE, OR THE LACK THEREOF ( 1 )

. . . a kabru x gender neutral reader story

# Chapter 1 ; 5 Years is Barely Enough Time for Someone to Move On, Right?

# genre : multiple parts. breakup angst. reader can't move on for the life of them.

# warnings : hurt no comfort in the first chapter

# spoiler warnings : none

# notes : purely an intro to the story. reader yammering about their life after the breakup. author is tired of the lack of kabru fanfiction and is tired of depending on cai

click here for the masterlist

1080 words

. . . in which relationships are prohibited within the party.

What a stupid rule. Or at least, you used to think it was. Until you fell in love, then fell out of it after.

Okay, you didn't actually fall out of it. But you did end up breaking up.

But hey, 5 years isn't that long right? It's not too late to start moving on?

Fuck. You really wished you followed that rule. All you can do now is regret all of your actions 5 years ago, when you were dating him.

RELATIONSHIPS WITHIN PARTIES WERE STRICTLY PROHIBITED.

You only started to understand why it was a rule, a golden standard across all parties.

It is fairly understandable that to have good chemistry with your party, you need to have close bonds with each of your members. You need to establish a strong relationship with your peers, to use all of your different abilities in perfect harmony.

However, indulging yourself in the greed of breaking through the barrier or being— just friends is a high risk. It could either make or break your party's chemistry. With intertwined heartstrings, that push and pull is always guaranteed to break those ties.

You groan at your stupidity, as you struggle to keep yourself afloat as a solo adventurer. Gold became scarce as you could barely afford your necessities, while the dungeon became harder and harder to explore— making treasures difficult to score. Lower levels were always a no-go, as you risk dying and being victim to a resurrection scam— draining you of all of your (miniscule) savings.

You used to be a party leader, determined to lead your beloved team to victory. However, strangers turn into friends— friends into close friends, and suddenly... Lovers. Life back then was simple, laughing at the stupidity of the rule ' no dating within the party! '. I mean, what's so wrong about being happy?

Your power, and his expertise with the blade— back to back, you two were unstoppable.

But could it have lasted forever? You ask yourself over and over— to the point of days becoming weeks, becoming months.

It's all become a blur.

Wake up. Enter the Dungeon. Explore the Dungeon. Go Home. Sleep. Repeat.

It's been 5 years since you broke up with Kabru. Actually— 5 years since you've seen his face. However, it doesn't change a thing. You have had his face memorized in the back of your mind since the day you both met; each angle and curvature of his jaw, the exact hue and saturation of his eyes, each curl in the sea of his dark hair.

You could never forget the way his eyes would soften as he looked at you, his lips curling into a gentle smile. He made you feel warm, like— a bowl of hot soup that your mom made you on a rainy day kind of warm. The way he never fails to be impressed by you, no matter how many times he'd seen your magic.

Sometimes, he'd try to get a little scratch during battle just so he could get healed by you again.

So what if the other members were fatally bleeding and were on the verge of death? He has a 'potentially life-threatening paper cut' and is in need of assistance.

Does it hurt more to remember, than to forget?

... You're not sure.

Remembering only brings fear—the fear of being forever perceived as the person you used to be, and will never be remembered as the person you are now. Change is inevitable, but you never really know if it it changes for the better or the worse.

You've been avoiding ever exploring more than half of the village ever since that day.

He's made his imprint in your mind, where that one bakeshop was not just any normal bakeshop— it was the one he'd eagerly line up at each morning, just so he could bring you your favorite treat.

God, you can't even stand the smell of it in the air anymore.

You couldn't get yourself to go to that one tavern, since it wasn't just any normal tavern anymore— it was his favorite tavern. The one tavern that he introduced you to, where they sold the best quality of your favorite drink.

He had hunted down every saloon and tavern in the village, just to pin one down because he knew you would love it.

And he loved it because you loved it.

It was also the place where you got absolutely wasted. Where you accidentally gave him the sloppiest, most passionate liquor-flavored kiss ever.

Where you couldn't stop the drunken slur of words that poured out of your mouth like a waterfall of alcohol, accidentally telling him you loved him.

It's a never-ending spiral of having to give up your favorite things, mostly because the reason why they were your favorite— was because of him. Because he had taken the time to get to know you, and noted down every single thing about you in every nook and cranny of his mind— your favorite scent, the shampoo you use, the distinct hop in your step.

That man knew you inside and out as if he had just completely dissected you in his mind. His beautiful mind. The mind that knew the second your mood shifted, the one that always takes note of your subtle hints.

And without him, everything seemed tasteless. Like your favorite freshly baked bread in the morning— it suddenly felt like eating clay that you had just dug up from the side of a creek. Like a bland porridge that was bordering a lukewarm temperature.

You sit there, pondering what could've been.

What would life be like if he never left?

Would he still be lying beneath your covers, his face buried in the crook of your neck while whispering promises?

Would he be sitting on your couch, folding your shared laundry— while you cook yourselves a shared dinner?

Would he be begging you to use your magic on him again? Would you be there healing his wounds after a long day, while he begs for another kiss?

Would he be there to kiss your lips again— holding you like a glass rose that could shatter beneath his fingertips?

...

You still love him.

You can't deny it.

However, 5 years is enough for him to hire a new mage.

5 years would've been enough for him to move on to bigger things— bigger ambitions.

bigger dreams than the ones he had with you.

You needed longer than 5 years. Maybe one day you'd be able to meet him eye to eye, without the dread and the fear.

But today was not that day.

But today was the day god decided to test you. (as if he hasn't put you through enough, dragging you from hell and back.)

He decided to test your patience, your resilience, and all of the above.

I mean, who else wouldn't freak out after seeing your ex and your ex-party members lying dead on the ground?

... Especially when they're all weirdly lined up on the concrete floor of the dungeon.

#dunmeshi x reader #dungeon meshi x reader #delicious in dungeon x reader #kabru x reader #kabru dunmeshi x reader #dunegon meshi #dunmeshi #kabru dunmeshi #kabru dungeon meshi #kabru of utaya #kabru delicious in dungeon #author is so deprived of kabru fanfictions that they decided to crawl out of their cave and write their own #love or the lack thereof calxprince

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gumbootillustrations · 3 months ago

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dame katelyn de feu my beloved 😭😭😭

more bits under the cut!!

katelyn first shows up to phoenix drop towards the end of season one under similar circumstances to canon mcd - jeffory's about to be executed for treason, and she's desperately trying to get his name cleared before he dies. however, when it becomes clearer and clearer to her that zane's using him as a scapegoat, she decides to turn on him and side with aphmau and the phoenix alliance ahead of the battle for phoenix drop.

in ashes, ashes, jurors were originally ordained through the bestowal of relics - however, after they went missing a couple of centuries after the first war of the magi, they pretty much became just. super politically powerful guards until about twenty years before the start of ashes, ashes, when the high priest of o'khasis at the time (zane's predecessor) figured out a way to bestow the powers of the juror relics to the jurors without using the relics themselves. anyway, its blood magick and it essentially brands the jurors with a seven-pointed star on their foreheads as a mark of the ritual being completed. katelyn hates what the ritual has turned her into - even though long hair is lowkey pretty impractical in a fight, she keeps hers long so that her mark is hidden (jeffory did the same, and garroth will also grow his hair out a little to cover his mark). when she transforms, a lot of the saturation in her skin in hair is drained out due to the magick not being suuuper holy (in fact, the first casting of the ritual upset the balance of the universe so much that it woke up the primordial gods n they sicked a plague on o'khasis that garte would later blame on tu'lan biological warfare). additionally, because the magick of the ritual sort of like. blends in? with any magicks or witchcraft already present in the juror their juror form will reflect this - katelyn has fire magicks, so when she transforms, her hair turns into this sort of sickly pale blue fire. her fire is hot enough that it burns blue anyway, but yeah.

katelyn burns her juror armour the minute she can once everyone gets out of the irene dimension. for a while, she just wears whatever she can scrounge up from around phoenix drop, but when cadenza finds out about this she gives katelyn this outfit! it's definitely done out of the kindness of her heart, there definitely aren't any ulterior motives don't worry. it's a lot more of a mercenary-ish look compared to her juror armour, but katelyn likes it just fine - especially since a certain flame-haired seamstress with a winning smile made it especially for her.

a little headcanon i have about katelyn - i feel like even though she isn't great at sewing, having grown up in a minor noble house in o'khasis, i feel like she would have some skills with textiles. specifically, i feel like she'd knit and/or crochet in her down time! before everyone heads out to gal'ruk, she knits everyone some mittens/scarves/socks/etc. not sweaters, though - she's loathe to admit it, but she's a firm believer in the sweater curse. otherwise, nothing much changes except that she throws on a coat and calls it a day - i like to think that, similar to laurance, she runs a little hotter than most people due to her fire magicks sort of acting as a bit of an internal furnace, so she doesn't need to bundle up quite as much as the others.

her day-to-day outfit is pretty much her standard guard outfit without the armour. she does wear an underbust corset/belt/thing with a small pouch attached, though - its very useful for carrying around knickknacks n stuff. otherwise, there's not much else to really comment on? idk. i probably shouldve added in some scars on her arms but its 11:30 pm at the time im writing this n ive spent way too long on this dang ref sheet already so yeah.

i decided to change up her conqueror form quite a bit - the form i drew in my original lineup of the second war's divine warriors wasn't really katelyn n looking back on it i shouldve spent more time trying to get it right. anyway, katelyn's mother was from southern tu'la, and was from a merchant family with some distant blood ties to the royal family - katelyn is technically related to the king of tu'la, but the relation is so distant that she doesn't really consider him (or any of the tu'lan nobles, really) to be blood relations. it's through this lineage, though, that she's able to resonate with menphia's relic, although it definitely helps that she's the second war's incarnation of the conqueror. mostly, the design notes from her first conqueror design remain the same - all i've really done is change the colour palette.

aaaand some headshots. i haven't exactly worked out how she got her facial scars - the big one was probably gotten on her first major assignment as a juror. however, it's nasty enough that when it healed it sort of fucked up her facial muscles - the scar tissue has permanently warped the right side of her mouth into a grimace, so anytime she makes a facial expression it's pretty lopsided (it's especially noticeable when she smiles). also, i changed the titling system for the jury to be more similar to the commonwealth knighthood system? like as much as i think "lady katelyn" is sick as fuck, the fact that it's the same title used for the female spouses of lords just sorta,,, didn't sit right? i guess? so yeah. dame katelyn.

anyway, feel free to ask questions if u want! :D

#....i may have been infected with the katedenza brainrot #anyway. i love mcd katelyn sm #she was lowkey a major part of my bisexual awakening #aphblr #aphmau #minecraft diaries #aphverse #mcd #aphmau art #aphmau fanart #mcd rewrite #katelyn the fire fist #katelyn the firefist #katelyn mcd #minecraft diaries rewrite #ashes ashes mcd #jury of nine

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ashs-cardboard-box · 9 months ago

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Stubborn and wounded

~ Sam Winchester/GN!Reader

~ Romantic

~ 1.3k words

Request :3

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“Look- It’s just a scratch. We just… We underestimated how strong the crocotta was- it’s not a big deal.” Sam dismisses as he shuffles into the dingy motel room, lugging Dean over his shoulder. The pair were coated in blood, be it their own or something else’s. Their clothes torn, only exposing the multitude of cuts across their bodies.

Naturally, upon seeing this, you felt your heart rate spike to an all time high. Crossing across the crusted carpet room briskly, right up to the two of them. Ignoring Sam’s protests, you carefully help Dean over to one of two, twin sized beds. He was conscious, but his left calf was badly cut in two different places, causing the denim of his jeans to stick to his skin. Leaving him unable to walk on his own.

Walking right back up to Sam and gently placing your hands on his bloodied abdomen, searching for a wound. Sam grits his teeth as he takes a sharp inhale, hissing in pain and quickly grabbing ahold of your wrists to get you to stop. It was strange, touching one another without the other dying, but that’s what Sam chose to believe. Your eyes lock on his own for several moments, looking up at him in nothing but pure concern.

“Let me help..” You plead, your voice barely above a whisper. You don’t try to pull your hands out of Sam’s. You’d been running with the impulsive, Winchester boys for a couple months now. Often sticking back and taking care of their wounds for them, to their dismay.

“I can do it myself. I’m not helpless.” Sam grunts stubbornly, gently setting your hands down at your sides; only allowing you to put your hands back onto his abdomen. Your palms stained with the all too familiar, crimson liquid from Sam’s shirt. Your thumbs rubbing small circles onto his hips, treating his beaten body like it were made of porcelain and he would shatter at the slightest heavy breath.

“I know you can,” you murmur in agreement, carefully pulling your body closer to his own. Sam was far from used to this treatment. It’s been so long since Jess had passed without anyone to properly care for him except for Dean. The two of them would scurry back home to lick their wounds after each and every hunt. But now, here you were, treating him like he was the most important man alive. He sighs heavily as he looks over towards Dean, sitting on one of the, rather repulsive, beds as he cleans and sews his leg. His eyebrows furrow as he looks back down at you in front of him, nodding reluctantly.

With his compliance, you grin. Cautiously removing your blood-stained hands from his hips and taking ahold of his own bloodied hands, leading him over to the over twin sized bed, the one the two of you shared– leaving Dean with his own, of course.

As you step away to retrieve a bottle of alcohol, cloth, thread, and a needle, Sam takes a seat at the foot of the bed with a small huff. Unbuttoning his shirt from the top down, peeling the bloodied fabric from his wounded body. When you turn back around, a pained grimace crosses your face, taking in Sam’s torso entirely. He had bruises galore. Lacerations and bullet grazes painted his abdomen and ribs, narrowly missing a severe injury.

Sam looks into your eyes with a sheepish expression. He knew it was bad, but seeing you stand there, it made him reconsider how bad it really was. Your sneakers shuffling against the disgusting carpet as you make your way back over to Sam, kneeling down in front of him, setting your supplies between your legs.

You’re quick to uncap the bottle of liquor. Saturating the cloth strip, subsequently your hand and the carpet below, before setting the bottle back down, supporting it between your knees. “Deep breath. This is gonna hurt like a bitch,” you warn, looking up into Sam’s eyes sincerely.

He nods slowly and does as he’s told. As soon as he takes a deep inhale through his nose, you begin to blot the soaked cloth over one of Sam’s larger cuts. He shakily exhales as he jolts in pain. His hands immediately darting down to grab ahold of the edge of the mattress, clawing at it as if he’s trying to tear it to shreds.

“I know, I know. I’m sorry, but we have to.” you coo. Your eyes strictly focused on your own hands as you work on Sam’s injuries. Using the alcohol to sterilize Sam’s lacerations to be able to sew them. It wasn’t the easiest task, for either of you, but it was necessary after all.

Sam bites down on his bottom lip as he nods, screwing his eyes shut tightly as he tries to breathe evenly. Each of your movements sending a wave of pain shooting up his spine. Only worsening as soon as he feels the needle prick his already sensitive skin. He could only hope that Dean was handling sewing himself better than he was from you.

“You’re alright. Just a bit more, Sam, you can do it.” you praise, shifting on your knees to get a bit closer to his body as you work as swiftly yet precisely as possible. The last thing you want to be doing is causing him more pain. Frowning as your eyes stray upwards briefly, looking at Sam’s grimace, before having to look down to your hands again.

He merely nods quickly in response, his breathing coming out in sharp, short bursts. His knuckles turning white from the amount of force he’s clasping the mattress with. He could be convinced there’d be nail marks in the springs if he squeezed tighter. Hissing and grunting painfully, struggling to stay as still as possible for you. Hearing your sweet nothings power him through it all. Even if he wouldn’t admit it, especially not in front of Dean, you helped him out more than you could possibly fathom.

“There you go.. See? You did good. Everything’s all sewn up.” You chuckle breathlessly, leaning forward and biting down on the thread, causing it to snap from the spool. Setting down the spool on the carpet, only to pick up the bottle of liquor again. Dripping a bit more over Sam’s torso, listening to his breathing closely. Sounding as if he’d just come back from running a marathon. He slowly opens his eyes again and they immediately dart down to you between his thighs. A mixture of pain and utter relief crossing over his face as he pants. Letting go of the mattress and reaching down to run his fingers through your hair appreciatively.

You lean into his touch subtly, smiling warmly up at him. It felt like the weight of worry was dragged off of your shoulders upon finishing up. Sitting back on your haunches and rocking to the balls of your feet, rising to a standing position.

“Are you two done yet?” Dean interrupts gruffly. Immediately, the two of you look over at him on the other bed, nervously shuffling away from each other. You, putting away your unused supplies, and Sam, heading into the bathroom to wash off the stink of booze and blood off of him. Dean rolls his eyes and tucks back his bloodied pant leg down, listening to the hiss of the shower in the other room.

“Sorry..” you mumble sheepishly, your back towards Dean as you stuff everything haphazardly back into your backpack. “Don’t be.” he grumbles, his eyes practically boring holes into your back. “But if you hurt my brother–”

“If you hurt my brother, I’ll put you in the ground before you could blink.. I know, and I won’t.” you interrupt, zipping up your backpack before turning back around to look back at Dean, his eyebrows raised to his hairline.

“Good.” he grumbles as he looks back down to the stained carpet. You knew he cared for his brother more than anything, and it was endearing. You wouldn’t dare think about hurting Sam.

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#sam winchester x reader #supernatural #supernatural x reader

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