#the phone case is my best purchase

[hollywoodsargeant]

hi i love merch

[bitchimasnake-sss]

would u ever do another part to the teaching some lessons series 🥹🥹

my lord, it's been so long since i wrote for yuuji but i love him sm to decline this opportunity. so, here you go. some filth for ya <3

🌸a lesson in jealousy!

synopsis: yuuji itadori knew he was lucky, knew that he was dating the most loyal girl ever, knew that his brother and you were nothing more than best-friends — knew all of that and yet, couldn't help but clench his jaw and fuck you into that ruined couch — jealous. pairing: afab!reader x itadori yuuji [aged up.] wc: 5.2k cw: MDNI. MDNI. MDNI. nsfw includes: jealousy, penetration, edging and denial, rough smex, pussydrunk!yuuji, slight bimbofication, yuuji's super-strength and stamina, yuuji is insecure, and sukuna is a brat as always. have fun. m.list

yuuji itadori was not a jealous man.

he was a bit dense, a bit too optimistic for his own good, maybe a teensy bit territorial — sure. but jealous? nah.

that was before sukuna made him reconsider his beliefs.

｡･:*˚:✧｡

strike 0.

"yuu, does this dress look good on me?" your voice shook with impatience, eyes sifting over your boyfriend's hunched form as he sat on your couch.

"hm?" the jock looked up from his phone, gaze all but devouring you as you stood before him.

you were beautiful, always were.

no matter when yuuji itadori looked at you, he was blown away like it was his first, like he was a kid on the playground who had just been offered ice-cream on a sweltering, hot day.

he nodded enthusiastically, a broad smile across his lips, "good is an understatement, babe. you look fuckin' amazing."

and he meant it. he always meant it.

"are you sure?" a soft pout fell across your lips, and you turned around as if to display yourself once more, giving him one more chance to take back his claim.

and despite not complaining about your little show, he muttered, "dead sure, babe."

"really? you're sure sure?" you tried again, getting the jock to swallow down his own words.

"yes—" yuuji tried to plead his case, tried to tell you that you were the love of his life even in a trash bag and aluminium foil accessories, but you cut him off.

"—cause 'kuna said it made me look fat."

'kuna.'

"huh?" and though the quarterback knew better than that, his eyebrow twitched at the mention of his brother's name. chucking the uncomfortable itch that crawled at the back of his throat down his stomach, yuuji laughed, "he's stupid, you know that."

"i knoww..." you drawled the word, your soft palms finding purchase against your waist as your unsure gaze tangled against his. you drew closer, till your sweet perfume permeated his figure, "but what if kuna's right..?"

pang!

there it was, that fucking little, fluttering feeling that traveled from yuuji's brains to his biceps, then to his ribs and finally settled somewhere in his lungs. was it annoyance? maybe irritation? or jeal— no. not that.

"i mean—" you huffed, smoothing the dress over your stomach once more as you peered down at him, "be honest with me, yuu. its my first christmas with your family, i wanna make a good impression."

the scar under his eyes twitched wickedly, flexing with the muscles of his cheeks as he put on a stained smile, "you've known them for ages."

"not as your girlfriend. they know me as kuna's best friend and he doesn't exactly have the best... eh, reputation..? yes. reputation." you refuted yet again, and yuuji would have laughed at your persistence to prove him wrong had it not been for that uncomfortable itch in his lungs.

'kuna's best friend.'

a slight tick built up in his jaw, his bones weighing down with your careless words, and breaths a stuttered falsetto.

nonetheless, yuuji extended his muscled arms, pulling you in to softly perch you on his steady lap.

nuzzling his face in the crook of your neck, the man hoped that the embers of anger frolicking about in his irises weren't evident in his voice, "who cares about sukuna? he's a mean fucking asshole."

shit. he could pick up on the slight edge to his tone, he just hoped you couldn't. what would you think of him if you knew the way he was feeling..?

after all, it's not like yuuji was jealous of his own brother or something. obviously not.

"i know." you raked your manicured fingers down his pinkish locks, and yuuji pasted chaste kisses to your exposed skin.

no longer was he the 6'2, hulking quarterback who would whoop someone's ass with one swift punch, but rather the same boy who had grown up with a massive crush on you. the same boy who had stayed up nights upon nights dreaming about the day you'd be his. the same boy who spent years in shadow as sukuna's ditzy younger brother before you liked him back.

but who cares about the past? you were his now, weren't you? and that was enough.

that was enough, right..?

he was knocked out of his sweet bliss when your voice kissed his ears, "i know it's dumb... but i think i'll just return it."

you didn't say the rest of the sentence, but yuuji found himself completing it in his head: 'but i'll just return it... cause sukuna said it didn't look nice.'

fuck sukuna.

｡･:*˚:✧｡

strike 1.

yuuji itadori hated the holidays with his family.

well, no, that was a lie. he hated the holidays this year.

every other year building up to now, yuuji was the first to help choso bring the tree and decorate it, first to help his dad cook and clean, and first to yell at sukuna for being a massive dick even through the holiday spirit.

well... given it was the season of giving, sukuna sure did his part by giving yuuji something — a fucking headache, or heartburn, or pure, unadulterated murderous rage.

point being, yuuji loved the holidays. he just hated how comfortably sukuna sat on the couch while you were sitting on the ground, both of you flipping through the ancient photo albums that choso-nii had insisted to unearth from the attic this morning.

it didn't matter that he was sitting next to you, it didn't matter when he could practically hear sukuna breathing on his fucking back, muttering jokes only you laughed at.

why was that man so close to you, anyways?

"oh my fucking god," you giggled — unaware of the very devil sitting behind you.

flipping through the pages of the scrapbook choso-nii had made when you all were still far too young, your index ran across the smooth texture of the photos, eyes trying to remember the incidents as if they had happened yesterday.

you pointed to the next photo with a sudden chirp, "and oh— yuu," you smiled, "that's you."

and it sure was yuuji itadori, aged two.

clad in an onesie, the small, pink-haired toddler was sitting next to you in the picture. you were playing with blocks, and when the picture was taken — yuuji had effectively knocked the tower of blocks over. you were crying next to him, blubbering with teary eyes and reddened nose while yuuji just gawked at you like a fool.

"that's me..." yuuji found heat run to the apples of his cheek, "yeah. sorry about that—"

"—knocking my blocks over?" you laughed, and yuuji almost considered building a time machine to go back in time and not knocking those blocks over.

you patted his thigh softly, "don't worry about it yuu, i forgive you."

"still don't understand what dad's fascination was with taking photos at awkward times." choso quipped from his spot next to jin in the kitchen. the pale, tattooed man was whisking batter for the cookies as jin was simmering something in a pan. jin itadori laughed at his eldest son's question, "well, it makes for good memories."

"sure does, dad." the three brothers almost replied in unison.

"and this—" you pointed to a photo of you and sukuna covered in mud, smiling at the camera with broken teeth and scrunched noses.

you looked over your shoulder, meeting the delinquent's eyes, "we got yelled so bad for this one, kuna."

"i remember that too." yuuji's dad piped up from the kitchen, stirring the pot with a rambunctious laugh, "i mean, i was there."

"still think it was an over-exaggeration." sukuna huffed, cracking his knuckles as he peered at the photos from over your shoulder, "we just ate some mud, what's the big deal? i mean— i turned out fine."

"hardly." yuuji muttered.

"what was that, brat?" sukuna cocked at eyebrow from where he sat on the couch, "talking 'bout yourself?"

yuuji found himself pressing his lips in a straight line, an unbroken resolve in the cresses of his face, "there's a reason nobody likes you, y'know?"

"your girlfriend does."

"hey—" you turned around to smack sukuna on his knee, even though a laugh had escaped past your lips, "shut up, kuna."

yuuji felt his nails biting into his palms with the force he fisted his hand with.

sukuna raised an eyebrow at his younger brother's reaction, stifling in a hearty, annoying laugh. "what? jealous, brat?"

jealous? obviously not.

it's just some unknown red, hot feeling that ran it's way across yuuji's body and charred it whole — it wasn't jealousy.

yuuji itadori didn't get jealous.

｡･:*˚:✧｡

strike 02.

"this is a terrible idea." you huffed, eyes strained against your green-haired-upto-no-good roommate. you repeated, "te-rri-ble."

"shut up," maki scoffed, a roll of her eyes following soon after, "it sounds fun."

what sounds fun, you may ask?

you see at a small friends-only gathering at your shared apartment, your flatmate — maki zenin had suggested with all her mighty braincell prowess, "hey, why don't we see who knows you more? your boyfriend, or your bestfriend?"

everyone had agreed — from maki's crush kugisaki to the black-haired ball of emo-ness, fushiguro. everyone had accepted except for you.

"absolutely not." you repeated yet again, and maki zenin scowled, "what a fuckin' killjoy— it's totally gonna be fun."

knowing maki, you knew she was doing this purely for her entertainment and nobody else's. this game would be fun for her.

you were sure there was something in the zenin's blood that made others suffering utterly amusing to them.

"i mean i'm down for it." yuuji shrugged, an unwavering faith in his voice, "i know i'm not losing."

"yeah?" sukuna rested the tip of his tongue against his sharp canines, almost laughing at yuuji's audacity to think that highly of himself. "ya think you'd win? i've known her 20 years. you even know how to count to 20, dumbass?"

see, despite being older in age, sukuna was definitely not the smartest tool in the shed — and yuuji knew that. so, as an act of self-preservation, yuuji let that comment go without further arguments.

instead, your boyfriend had just smiled at you reassuringly, "we should play, babe. i'm sure it'll be fun."

"yeah, loosen up." sukuna commented soon after, sipping the cheap booze, "it's not like me and yuuji will start a fight over this crap."

"fine." you had given up by the end, leaving the boys with their massive egos and terrible decision-making tendencies. you crossed your arms, vowing an unbreakable oath, "but i swear to god if you two get in a fight after this, i'm not gonna break it up."

that was five minutes ago, and now—

"—are you fuckin' stupid?" sukuna's eyes narrowed at his brother, "she obviously likes the mountains more."

"nah." yuuji retorted, dead sure in his assumptions, "beaches."

"mountains—"

"—yuuji's right." you dismissed the argument with a simple flick of your fingers, and yuuji grinned at the outcome: 3-4.

"next question." maki clapped her hands to draw attention to herself, "oh, this one should be fairly easy." she paused for dramatic effect, putting on a showbiz voice, "how many guys has she kissed?"

"three." yuuji simply answered, and sukuna waved him off with a cashmere, all-knowing grin, "nuh uh, five."

yuuji's eyebrows bunched, his eyes resting on you with a question: five?

"it's three." yuuji stated definitively and you shook your head, "kuna's right. the score is now 4-4."

you nodded as to acknowledge sukuna's nonchalant victory, and you swore your boyfriend's jaw slacked open at your words.

wobbling words and ticking jaw, yuuji itadori looked at you as if you had betrayed him, "w-wait, but i only know three."

"i've only seriously made out with three guys." you answered honestly, "rest two were when i was drunk, i don't even remember them."

"wait... why didn't you tell me that, though?" yuuji tried asking but already had the answer on the tip of your tongue.

"i was drunk, babe." you gave a half-impressed nod to sukuna, "I'm surprised sukuna remembers them too, given how shit-faced drunk he got each time."

"but—" your boyfriend tried yet again but the conversation had moved along.

now, sukuna was piping up about something that had happened when you and him were shit-faced drunk, and you and maki were laughing at his recounts.

heck, even fushiguro had cracked a smile. what the fuck?!

"holy shit." you face-palmed, laughing hysterically at whatever drunken adventure you two had embarked on without yuuji. you tried catching your breath, clutching your chest with your manicured hands, "a-and there was this buff dude— hah, ohmygod—"

sukuna added onto your story, nodding— and yuuji felt his blood boil.

yuuji itadori knew nothing had ever happened between you and sukuna. your drunken nights were just tomfoolery, your jokes were just jokes but... what if?

what if sukuna was one of the men you had kissed when drunk? what if he was more than that? what if yuuji was just a mistake and sukuna was the man for you?

what if..?

yuuji's ear's buzzed, blood roared through his veins and his bones rattled in a cursed rhythm as his erratic gaze shifted from one person to the next.

everyone was laughing.

yuuji itadori felt their — your laughter pierce through his skin and lodge square in his heart. for a minute, it felt as if the entire world was in on a massive joke and he was the only one left out.

at last, yuuji's gaze landed on sukuna. the hulking delinquent had a self-satisfying smile on his face as he yapped on and on and on—

a pulsating pain built in yuuji's palm as he felt himself squeezing down on something. his biceps bulged, a vein almost popping in his neck from the force he was exerting.

what if yuuji itadori was the butt of the joke he was being left out of?

"—yuuji?" you put a soft hand on his bicep, pulling him out of his entranced state. concern wrapped around your words like ivy, your laughter completely wiped off, "are you okay..?"

"y-huh?" the jock blinked once, twice, then once more before he could even process what you just said.

the roar in his ears subsided, the warmth in his face dissipated, and it was as the anger slipped off of his tired muscles did yuuji itadori realize that he had broke the arm of your couch with his mindless grasp.

"yuuji—" kugisaki heaved, panicked. and megumi stood up soon after, his words jittery, "itadori..?"

everyone was staring.

"shit—" his eyes travelled to the wooden splinters that had crumbled under the expanse of his muscles. frenzied eyes running from his palms to your scared face, he almost lost his voice, "s-sorry. 'm so sorry... i dunno— how."

you knelt down, nimble hands coming to take his larger palm in yours gently, "yuu—" panic overwrote every syllable of yours but your eyes stayed trained against his, "are you okay?! should we—"

"—no." yuuji pulled his hand back to his chest, shaking his head, "i'm fine... i'm okay. no."

everyone was fucking staring.

standing up, the jock almost felt too light-headed to even process what pain he was in. all he knew was that he needed to get away, and get away soon.

"i—" his mouth grew drier, words dying at the tip of his tongue as everyone's eyes bore onto his frame.

turning around, scrambling for the exit, the quarterback barely managed out an excuse, "i'll pay for that later."

before yuuji slammed the door behind himself, he heard sukuna's voice boom behind him, "yuuji, slow down."

but even the slightest sound of his brother's voice — no matter concern or mockery were enough to set his cells ablaze with a nerve-racking thunder.

yuuji itadori was probably jealous, and jealousy was unbecoming of a man.

｡･:*˚:✧｡

strike 03.

months had passed by, the arm of the couch changed and the incident had been long forgotten.

yuuji itadori had even successfully got you to belief that for a second that night, his 'super-strength' had activated. heck, he had even claimed to be the main character of a shounen manga in some parallel universe, and reasoned that perhaps he was fighting someone somewhere that night.

stupid man — that's what you had called him and yet the way you had doted on him for the next couple of days had turned any of his guilt on wrecking the furniture turn to an unsung victory.

what's a piece of furniture compared to his girlfriend, anyways?

you had sat yourself down on his lap, facing him as your trapped his cheeks between your palms as you had sighed, "i'm sorry i didn't tell you about those two extra kisses. i was just, um kinda scared if you'd judge me for drunk-kissing random guys."

"you drunk-kissed me too."

you winced, half-nodding at his words, "fair point."

but instead of judgement or scrutiny, yuuji had given you a broad smile, reassuring you with a soft kiss to your palm, "why would i ever judge you over that, babe? i'm just happy you told me now."

and that had been that. the incident had passed. it had been months. the couch had been repaired. you two had talked it out. that bitter feeling inside of yuuji had died. it had died.

so, why was it coming back with vengeance tonight?

he mumbled your name into the thick air, trying to call out to you over the beats and hollers, trying to talk sense into you.

you were at some house-party that a friend of a friend of sukuna's was hosting. the delinquent had dragged you two with him, and despite not knowing the dude, you had drank his booze and were now swaying to the beats on his darkened dance floor.

neon lights flashed over you in the sea of unknown bodies as yuuji wrapped his beefy arms around your waist, pulling you flush against him.

the pink-haired jock dropped his face in the crook of your neck, his mouth nipping softly against your pulse-points, "you should drink some water."

"mhmm, don' care." you groaned, turning around to wrap your arms around his neck as he looked down at you. waves of lust rocked your body and yuuji felt like you'd devoured him whole on that very dance-floor had it not been for the charges of public indecency. your words slurred deliciously, "i don' wan' water— wan' you."

yuuji laughed at your words, bringing his head down again to gently talk you through it, "but you do need water, babe. wait here and i'll get you some, okay?"

and despite your pout, yuuji patted your arm and let go of you with a soft kiss to your cheek.

the neon flashed in his irises, and his hazy vision couldn't quite keep up with your dancing figure as he eventually disappeared within the throbbing crowd. looking back once, twice, he had lost track of you completely by the time he reached the kitchen.

"water?" yuuji found himself confusedly asking another person for where the water was. "yeah, one bottle's enough. thanks, man."

yuuji navigated the stirring crowds with chants of 'sorry's and 'excuse me's lined up, with his eyes searching for your figure.

he wasn't worried about leaving you alone drunk. at worst, you'd be dancing. at best, you'd be standing still.

oh... except, he forgot to consider sukuna in his worst case scenario.

there he was — that fucking delinquent — leaning down to whisper something in your ear as you barked out a drunken laugh with a rough swat to sukuna's tattooed arm.

the plastic in yuuji's palm felt awfully easy to crush, but yuuji itadori decided to keep his cool.

heavy footsteps rung against the floor as he stepped towards you, scanning your figure. there was a glimmering glass in your hands, a matching one in sukuna's.

was sukuna getting you more drunk? why, that fucking asshole—

shit. calm down, yuuji.

"—hey." yuuji grit his teeth, giving sukuna a half-baked smile, "i don't think she should be drinking more."

"ah," the older itadori rolled his eyes, waving his younger brother off as if he was a waft of air, "calm down, it's just one more glass."

but yuuji pulled the glass from your nimble grasp, even when you pouted and reached out for it again. he swiftly replaced it with the bottle he had brought, "no, have this."

the jock never once let his gaze drop from his brother as he grunted, "i think it's enough. she has had more than enough."

"calm down, brat." sukuna repeated, giving his own glass in your hand, "she's a tough girl, she can handle herself."

yuuji itadori was sure a vein had popped somewhere in his neck as he found stepping towards his brother, grin feral, "i think you should stay out of my girlfriend's business."

"your girl—girlfriend..? hah—" sukuna laughed, and yuuji almost considered homicide to not be half-bad, "what's so fuckin' funny?"

"nothing." sukuna shook his head, still laughing about whatever delirious shit he was on about. the tatted man sucked in a breath, "it's just... if you two break up, i'll still be her best friend, and you'd..." he hummed, "you'd be nothing to her."

whatever happened after that is a blur to yuuji itadori.

all he knew is that he hadn't hit sukuna — or someone else, for that matter. he had simply clutched your wrist in his, dragging you out of that godforsaken party even as you called out his name every now and then. he had driven his car through the learned pathways in the dead of the night and now, he was jamming your key through your apartment door to let you both in.

creaaak!

the heavy door opened and yuuji pushed it to let himself in, still holding your hand in his wrist.

"yuu—" you mumbled, still dazed from all the alcohol as you trailed behind him and into your living room.

ignoring you, the jock disappeared into your kitchen after putting your purse down on the coffee table.

as you sat on the couch, trying to undo the heels off of your aching feet, he showed up with a glass of water.

you looked up at him, the whites of your eyes tinted the slightest red, "what..?"

"drink some water." yuuji commanded coldly, and your brows furrowed at his demeanor, "are you... mad at me?"

"no. don't worry." sighing, the jock bent down and undid the clasp easily. his eyes didn't meet yours as he stood back up and gave you another instruction, "just go to sleep after this, okay? you need some rest."

"but yuuji..." you pouted, drawing your palm to his wrist to stop him, "wh-where are you going..?"

maybe if you had been in a better state of mind, you would have noticed your boyfriend's clenched jaw and fisted hands, you would have heard the restraint in his words as he heaved out, "back home."

"but why?"

why?

yuuji itadori still did not meet your eyes, "I'm just not in the mood to hang out."

"but—"

"listen," the jock finally met your gaze, a silent warning imprinted onto his irises, "if i stay here, i'll end up doing something i regret."

"like..?" you still looked up at him oh-so-clueless, and yuuji couldn't help but crack open a strained smile, repeating, "like?"

like this.

"fu-fuck fuu k—" your breath hitched, eyes glossing over as it became harder and harder to breathe. your voice was muffled against the couch, the fabric eating away at whatever semblance of sanity you possessed.

yuuji splayed his palm on the back of your head, pushing it down and down into the fabric with reckless abandon as he fucked into your sopping cunt.

"tell me—" the jock grunted, using another hand to smack the delicious curve of your ass, "what is it hah about that bastard — 'kuna''", he heaved, mocking you, " that I don't fuckin' have, huh?"

"yuuji—" you tried but your mouth felt so awfully dry, your moans lodged in your throat helplessly as your boyfriend pressed your face further into the couch. trying again, you panted, "ple-please yuu—"

smack!

"hngh— fuck mmph—" your body jolted in retort as yuuji planted another smack to your ass, immediately soothing the skin with his broad hands.

your eyes burned, cheek rubbing against the couch fabric so helplessly as you tried clawing at whatever you could find.

manicured fingers dug into the the couch, and yuuji chased your actions mercilessly with deep plunges inside your quivering cunt. he growled out, "answer my fucking question."

but you were rendered useless.

your vision was growing hazy, air supply cut off from the way your face was pressed up and into the sofa. despite the sizzling hot sting against your ass, and the stretch of your thighs, a gnawing feeling churned in the pit of your stomach.

"ca-can't breathe—" your rasped, your manicured nails still digging into the soft surface as you tried to shake your boyfriend off of yourself with helpless trembles, "g-get off—"

"can't breathe?" yuuji repeated, using one broad hand to catch both of your wrists and pin them behind your back. vision misty, and light-headed — suddenly, you were pulled up into something hard.

despite his harsh actions, despite the relentless rolls of his cock into your gummy walls, yuuji husked behind you, "better?"

and you nodded, too cockdrunk to stop the man from using you like his personal fleshlight.

your boyfriend's heat radiated out of his chest and seeped into your aching bones as his cock still rammed into your heat. you finally breathed, inhaling deep breaths before the smacks of his pelvis against yours made you shake yet again.

your writhed your wrists, fighting against his phantom-like grip on you as your muscles spasmed and contracted, "y-yuu 'mgonna shit— 'm— cummin cummin'—"

"huh?" the jock gasped as your snug cunt pulsated around his rigid member. each little spasm of your walls against his ridged veins made the jock plow into you harder, "hah, cumming?"

you nodded, shivering and straining against his iron grip, "so close 'm so— close."

and then he stopped.

yuuji itadori pulled out of your snug cunt in one swift snap of his hips, leaving your syrupy folds clenching around thick air — so easily abandoned.

you turned your head back, jaw sagging open in a helpless whimper as tears brimmed your eyes, "wh-why'd you sto-p..?"

but the younger itadori was in the mood for no games tonight. flipping you onto your back, the man threw you onto the couch as if you weighed nothing to him.

"yuu—" your breath trembled as you tried supporting your jelly-like body on your elbows, staring up at the man who held held no remorse in his eyes for the way he was destroying you.

his hair was matted, locks clinging onto his forehead as drops of dew clung onto his skin. his skin was dusted pink, as his heavy cockhead smeared drops of his pre against his thigh.

"you know..." yuuji husked, tugging his mushroom tip lazily as he stared down at your shaky physique, "you still haven't answered my question."

"wh-what question?"

and yuuji cocked an eyebrow despite knowing better than to blame you for how mush-brained state.

the man guided his leaky tip to your hooded clit, massaging the thundering nub in slow circles, "what is it about kuna that's so much better than me, huh?"

"i d-dunno... what're y-you saying..?" you bit your wobbling lips, blinking your eyes so slow as he kept nudging his tip against your sensitive bud, "he's... he's just my best-frie..nd oh—"

"awh, he's your best-f-friend?" yuuji repeated, now tracing his tip in skilled eight shapes, "that's it..?"

and despite having half a mind, you nodded desperately, "y-yeah, yuu."

"tch," the man traced his tip downwards, collecting your honeydew on his hardened cock before plunging within your heat in one swift motion.

you gasped, toes curling as the younger itadori found himself ramming a bruising pace into your sopping entrance, "fu-fuck s-slower—"

but yuuji itadori was in no mood for mercy. bringing up a sharp hand to your face, he pulled your cheeks into a forced pout, "if he's just your best-f-friend, hah why is that fucker always just— hovering around?"

"i—" you tried to speak but your words were a wet gargle, constricting within your throat at his harsh actions, "mm—"

"can't speak?" and somehow your frenzied nod just made itadori clutch your skin in his grasp tighter — till he was sure he was indenting your face with his fingerprints.

"yuuji—" you groaned, words still so hard to come-by as he kept fucking you dumber and dumber. but at this point, yuuji didn't even bother knowing your answer, instead pussydrunkenly rambling on, "a-and the fuck is he so cocky about? you're my girlfriend, right? arent'cha?"

you nodded, and he pressed a sickly sweet kiss to your forced pout, "attagirl."

but he continued rambling, his words forgone and stupid, "and fuck does he think? that just— just cause he knows you longer, he—" yuuji nodded at you, "right? i've known you the sa-same amount of time auh— shiiit."

and despite not understanding whatever shit yuuji was spewing from his parched mouth, you nodded in agreement.

"alright," the man kissed your jaw in a wicked hurry, "you don't—" a sudden, deep shove within your velvety hole made the jock stutter out, "y-you love me right... you don't love him."

and he let go of your aching jaw, kissing up the cheeks as if to soothe your skin, "say you love me. say it."

"i—" your eyes rolled back as his persistent shoves hit right in the bullseye — marking your womb with his copious pre. despite your scratchy throat, and bruising thighs, you moaned out, "i- only love you, yu-uji. ohmygod—"

"—good." yuuji groaned, feeling his length twitch in anticipation as the muscles of his thighs tightened, "cause i'll kill him— I'll kill him if he tries to take you from me."

and with that warning, the jock released thick ropes of cum into your saccharine pussy. the liquid filled you to the brim, a drop or two beading out of your cunt and sliding down his length helplessly.

"sh—shit." yuuji collapsed on top of you, breathing in your scent and licking at your sweat-soaked skin like a man crazed, "i—i'll kill him if he... if he takes you away."

"o-okay."

"'m serious."

"hm." you raked your trembling hands over his sweaty locks, "'sokay, i'm yours."

"good."

creaak!

"oh mY GOD—" your roommate practically yelled, "WHY ARE YOU BUTT-NAKED IN MY LIVING ROOM, ITADORI?!"

managing some resemblance of coherence, yuuji snapped his head back to look at the green-haired athlete standing shell-shocked at the door, "S-SENPAI?!"

"PUT SOME CLOTHES ON!" and with that the zenin family member pulled the door shut.

"i—" yuuji snapped his head back at you — you, who had just been sobered up from maki's yelling, "we should probably... p-put some clothes on."

the jock nodded, "probably."

well, you could always continue the conversation in your own room. after all, yuuji itadori did have inhumane stamina.

a/n: i did not suffer through days of creative block just to give up on this bitch. here, have something i guess..? idek if this was any good omg but i hope it doesn't suck too much :// this idea was suggested by @peekawoocc literally ages back, so, due credits to her! tagging: @peekawoocc @9rvm @iminlovewqr0w @jellibean2018 @kingofthe-egirls [took me so long ahaha :/] m.list

[brenwritesss]

Tru Fru

Paige x reader

Summary: reader goes to Target to buy a bag of Tru Fru but ends up meeting Paige as they fight over the last bag.

Let me know if you want a part two!!

Taking the keys out of the ignition, you locked your car and walked out into the silent parking lot. With the store about to close in twenty minutes, there were not many people in the parking lot so this should have been an easy trip. For the past week, all that you have been seeing all over your social media was Tru Fru. A company that produced dried fruits covered in chocolate. Your roommate had bought a bag when the hype first started and she became obsessed, saying ‘it was the best snack to ever be invented’.

So here you were at Target, finally buying a bag. After walking into the store, you fiddled with your keyring as you walked down the aisles, heading to the snack area. Once in the snack aisle, you scanned the shelves, trying to find the bags until your eyes finally stumbled upon a bag of Tru Fru strawberries. The last bag of Tru Fru fruit in the entire aisle.

You smiled to yourself as you relished in the luck you had in getting the last bag in the store. You went to get the last bag, grabbing hold of it when to your surprise, another hand picked it up at the same time.

You instantly whipped your head to your left and a tall blonde with hazel eyes peered down at you. She pulled the bag towards her a bit. “I hope you don’t mind but I really need this bag.”

You gave her a skeptical look, not letting go. “So do I.”

“But you don’t understand how much I need this. I literally got the merch for this shit,” she said, making you look at her sweatshirt that had the Tru Fru logo on it.

You shrugged. “I don’t see how that has anything to do with me and this bag.”

She looked you up and down, and you couldn’t lie to yourself, it was hot when she did that. Noticing your UConn hoodie, she pointed at the letters. “Yo, you go to UConn?”

“Yeah.”

“So do I,” she said, almost shouting the fact. “You into basketball by any chance? I’ll get you a hoodie with my number on it if you let me get this bag.”

You laughed, “I don’t know who you are, let alone know that you play basketball. Why would I want a hoodie with your number on it?”

She pretended to look hurt. “Ouch, you know how to hurt someone’s feelings.” When you didn’t respond, she sighed. “Okay, uh I can give you cash for the bag.”

“You’re seriously gonna pay me to give you this bag?” 

“Yes,” she said while giving you a look that made you know she wasn’t joking.

“I’m sorry but I’ve been trying to track these down forever since they’ve been sold out everywhere.” Your grip tightened on the bag.

Paige tilted her head, looking you up and down again and giving you a smile. It would have made you melt if you weren’t so determined to get this bag of Tru Fru. “You know, I’m surprised I haven’t seen you around campus before.”

“It’s a huge campus, it’s hard to notice one singular person.”

She licked her lips, nodding at you. “You’d be easy to notice.”

“Are you seriously flirting with me so that I’ll give it to you?” you asked her.

“Is it working?”

“No.”

“Fine.” She reached into her pocket and took out her phone. You looked at her, confused as to what she was doing. Then to answer your suspicions, she held her phone out to you. “I’ll let you keep this bag if you give me your number.”

So a pretty girl asks for your number and you get to keep the last Tru Fru bag? Sounds like a win-win situation to you. “Sounds good to me.” 

You took her phone and typed in your number with one hand just in case she took the bag from you. Once you handed her phone back to her, she finally let go of the bag. “I’m Paige by the way.”

“Y/n.”

She put her hands in her pockets. “I hope you know I’m actually going to text you.”

“I hope so,” you said, leaving her in the aisle as you headed to the checkout.

Once you had purchased your bag of Tru Fru strawberries, you walked back to your car. The second you got inside, a text notification popped up on your phone from an unknown number.

You should come over so that I can see you again

And bring that bag I let you get

So she wasn’t lying when she said she’d text you. After reading those two texts, she sent another one but this time with an address. You texted back a thumbs up and started driving to the location she sent you. You had a feeling it was going to be a long night.

[themuseofaphrodite]

santa doesn’t know you like i do ✧ MV33

summary: it’s christmas eve, and your boyfriend, max verstappen — a notoriously bad gift giver — still has not told you what presents he had bought you. unbeknownst to you, however, he has found the wishlist you jokingly wrote to santa, and is planning a heartwarming surprise for his beloved.

trigger warnings: suggestive & mature content, swearing

word count: 1.1k

note: phrases and sentences in the dutch language are utilized throughout; keep a translator accessible

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

Dear Santa, the letter began, I know that I’m almost twenty-three years old, so writing a letter to you is kind of foolish, but I still believe in the magic of Christmas, even if you aren’t real. This Christmas, I’m not really expecting much. My boyfriend, Max Verstappen, buys me anything I ask for, no matter what time of the year it is. He’s the best partner I could ask for. But the reason why I’m writing this letter is because he is clueless when he has to pick out gifts on his own, without my assistance.

So, before I go off on a tangent talking about how bad his solo gifts have been — do I have to mention the knitted red socks or lavender flavored gumballs? —, these are the things that I’m most looking forward to hopefully seeing under the Christmas tree.

A new set of lipsticks, because mine is really old and running out. I didn’t want to ask Max to buy me one, because I feel bad making him pay for anything.

The new rose gold spade necklace from Chanel. I saw it in a display case at the store in Monaco, and I was itching to purchase it. It’s really beautiful.

And last, but not least, a carton of Ferrero Rocher chocolates, the ones in the golden wrap and the crunchy nuts. My mouth is salivating just from thinking about it.

I know that there’s probably no point to writing this letter since you’re not exactly a living, breathing person, but a part of me hopes that your magic might help figure some of the kinks in Max’s terrible gift-giving skills out.

After writing the letter, you ended up throwing it away in the trash. It was such a waste of time, you thought. What in the world possessed you to do this? You were a busy woman, working for Red Bull as a PR manager. There was never a quiet moment. That was how you and Max had met: you were assigned to aid Liam Lawson in figuring out any media scandals, but as soon as Max had laid eyes on you, he’d immediately ordered Christian Horner to switch you to helping him out.

You were unsure of him, how aggressive and competitive he was. He wouldn’t shy away from direct confrontation, and that terrified you, since the idea of verbally arguing with someone made you nauseous. But so far, eight months into the relationship, you and Max had not had a single fight. He was loving, patient, and kind, willing to hear your side of the story every single time, even if he looked like he was about to flip a table. (This usually happened in PR meetings: you never argued outside of work.)

This would be your first Christmas together, and you were nervous. You knew what to get him: a new Red Bull team shirt and a pair of matching scarves that had colorful cats printed on it. It was purr-fect, and you knew that Max would — hopefully — love it.

Max entered the room, his steps hurried as he typed away on his phone and let out a big huff in frustration. You leaned against the wall, watching him as you sipped your chocolate-flavored boba tea. “Hey, is everything all good, mijn leeuw?” you asked, tacking on the Dutch pet name that fit your boyfriend perfectly. He was a lion, loud and courageous…especially in bed. Your cheeks heated at the thought.

Max looked up from his phone, his mouth a little open in confusion. “No, I’m OK, liefde. Just…fucking delivery people, not being on time.” Your eyebrow quirked, and Max shook his head. “And no, for the seventh time, I will not tell you what I’m getting you for Christmas. I know your birthday might’ve been bad, but I promise this time I’ll be good. Ik hou van je, schat.”

“Ik houd ook van jou,” you responded. “But I think I have every right to be concerned.”

Max rolled his eyes, walking over to where you were and placing one arm above your head, effectively locking you in place. “It will be fine. Don’t worry your pretty head about it, hm?” He grinned, kissing you on the forehead. “And if it does end up wrong, I’ll fuck you really well to make up for it.”

You blushed, averting your gaze away from him. “Max.”

“It’s true.” He released his hand from the wall, moving a dozen inches apart from your face. “Geloof me, lieverd.”

You bit your tongue and didn’t respond.

The next evening, also known as Christmas night, you and Max were preparing to open your presents. Your stomach was like a swarm of butterflies, you were so nervous to see what was in store for you under the tree. Max, however, was the epitome of ice-cold, his face betraying no hint as to what he may have purchased.

“Your turn first, engel.” Max motioned for you to select your first gift, and with shaky hands, you began to unpeel the small, square-shaped package. Finally unveiling it, you realized what it was: the rose gold spade Chanel necklace you’d been wanting for so long.

“Max! Oh my God, jij bent de beste!” you cried out, hugging him tightly and making him crack up in laughter. “How did you know?” you asked as you pulled away, but Max shrugged his shoulders.

“I just know things, liefde.” It was now Max’s turn to select his first gift, and he chose the nondescript package that held the colorful cat scarves in them. You suppressed a smile, watching as he carefully cut through the gift wrapping and sifted through the gift paper. His face broke out in a large smile, his blue eyes gleaming with happiness. “Cat scarves? This is adorable!”

“I hoped you would like it,” you said, beaming back at him. You shifted your position to pick up another gift; this time, it was heavy and rectangular. An inkling of suspicion wormed its way through you as you met Max’s gaze. “If this is what I think this is… Thank you.”

It was, in fact, a new set of lipsticks, just like you had written in your letter to Santa Claus. Somehow, Max must have found the letter and bought everything that you’d put on the list.

“You deserve it,” Max responded, pulling you close to him after you both had finished unwrapping the presents. “You’re the love of my life, Y/N. I owe you the world.”

You kissed his temple. “You’re the most incredible partner I could ever have.”

“Merry Christmas, hart van mij.”

Needless to say, you paid Max back for the thoughtful presents all night long. It was a Christmas you’d never forget, and you sent up a silent thanks to the magic of Santa Claus for having it all work out.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

[remotewatch]

nothing but a sentence 🩸

Jack Schlossberg x reader | 1.8k wc

summary: period sex with jack for anon ‼️ hope you enjoy lovely 🤍

cw: period sex, period head, certified boyfriend material jack, domestic bliss, whereee did all this fluff come from, sacrilege if you squint, messy eating, unprotected sex (VOTE IF YOU WANNA RECREATE ETC ETC), shoutout to my darling editor Sabrina @mystardustmelodyyy for saving this from limbo 🙏

minors dni get off my lawn

At this point in the relationship, Jack manages your period more than you do. You tend to forget that it requires actually going out and purchasing supplies unless he calls you from the pharmacy to complain.

“Why would they stop carrying ultras? That’s so fucked up! And the boxes are getting smaller, it’s sick what they’re doing to you guys!” It’s too easy to picture him waltzing around with three cases of san pellegrino under one arm and an overflowing snack basket in the other, phone pressed between his ear and shoulder while he yaps about pink taxes.

“Do you want canned or fresh lychee? Never mind, I’ll get both.” he decides before you can respond. “Did you want anything else?”

“I want to sleep,” you mumble. You were currently being throttled on two fronts by nauseating cramps and a vicious migraine, leaving no energy left to manage his shopping list. It was hard enough just to reach and grab the ibuprofen without alerting your uterus that you had moved, yet he’s still talking as you doze off:

“We’ve got edibles and melatonin in the cabinet, but I’ll get some mag glycinate, and are you SURE you don’t need…”

“Dealer’s choice, I trust your judgement,” you murmur. “When will you be home?”

“Alright, fair enough. I’ll be back around 6.”

“See you then. Love you.”

“Love you too.”

He finds you wrapped in two heating pads, face pressed into the couch, full water glass in the same spot he left it on the coffee table.

“I feel like I just died,” you groan, rubbing your eyes and tentatively stretching your legs.

“Come on, you gotta hydrate,” Jack rustles through the grocery bags looking for a loose water bottle with a sport cap before pressing it against your mouth. He frowns and doesn’t take it out when you try to move away.

“At least half a glass, come on. I’m following orders here.” He’s very gentle not to flood your mouth and make you cough, but you can see his eyes flicker down to watch your lips wrap around the cap (he’s only human, after all).

“Thank you,” you croak when he finally sets it down, voice slightly less raspy than before.

“Do you want a tea? I’m making you a tea.”

He’s off rustling through the kitchen for the ginger lemon amid the boxes of just ginger or just lemon, but despite his best efforts, the noise is killing you. Every shut drawer sounds like a door slamming with this headache, and Jack sounds like he’s still speaking into your ear even though he’s mainly talking to himself.

“And I’ll get started on dinner-what would you like? I’ll figure something out, don’t worry. Oh, also! I got those vaseline body balm rollers you like.”

Your eyes shoot wide open and light up as he trots over to hand you your treat.

“Oh my god, and you found the cocoa butter kind! You’re the best!”

The rich, nutty scent of the balm floods the room when you unscrew the top and gives you a second wind. This and a shower will fix you for sure, just as soon as you can make your way to the bathroom.

Jack fills in the blanks as soon as you look back up at him apprehensively and start with the vague gesturing and “would you mind…”

“Of course not. There’s no need for you be walking right now, that would be crazy!” If you weren’t in so much pain, you’d be swooning at the way he effortlessly scoops you up and walks over to set you down on the glossy teak shower stool (a million percent worthwhile at times like this).

“Do you want any more help in there?” It sounds like a joke, but you know he’d wash you in a heartbeat if you asked. You can’t help matching his smile.

“I think I’ve got it handled.”

“I’ll put dinner on, then.”

When you emerge, your headache has all but subsided, and while you’re still pretty out of it, the heat has done wonders for your cramps and stiffness. You can’t be bothered to do anything but throw on a pair of thinx and flop down onto the bed, slathering on more of your new balm just to keep smelling it.

Jack knocks at the open bedroom door with your tea and a fresh glass of water.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were baking in here,” he teases as sets them on the nightstand. “Dinner is on in 30 by the way.”

The idea of leaving your bed right now sounds about as appealing as getting all your teeth pulled, but you’d never dream of eating on the scrumptious new Matouk linens; the utter disrespect!

“Can you just put me back to sleep instead?”

“Sure, of course. You want a gummy or-“

“Jack!”

“Right, got it!” And he’s skittering off to grab a vibe and towel while you untangle yourself from heating pad cords.

Jack is nearly skipping coming back from the hallway closet with a fistful of toys before rolling you as little as possible to tuck the towel under your lower half. As soon as he’s back within reach, you grab a handful of his hair and drag him down to kneel next to you. He nods at the pile of silicone on the nightstand as he playfully snaps at your elastic: “Are we feeling manual or automatic?”, but you’re already bucking your hips up to shove the underwear down your thighs and wincing at the sudden movement.

“You ok?” He drops the playful tone immediately and furrows his brow in concern. You throw your arm out to grab a toy at random, landing on a satisfier. Perfect.

“Ask me again in ten minutes,” you sigh dramatically to lighten the mood, but you’re still not feeling great.

“Roger that,” Jack bites back a smug grin -as if he’s ever needed all ten- and crawls gingerly into bed to snake one arm under your waist and accept the toy with the other.

It has to be some sort of sick joke how you’re this unbelievably sensitive when you still feel so shitty. Every single nerve ending in your clit is humming in tandem with the pulses of the satisfier; the delicious sensations ricochet up and down your body enough that even your eye sockets feel tingly.

He’s entirely absorbed in making you cum and tuned into every move you make, still glancing up now and then to check for any hint of discomfort. As much as he’s committed to pleasing you, he can’t conceal the blush creeping up his neck and down from his temples, nor his ragged breathing. There’s barely enough time to acclimate and enjoy it before you feel yourself getting drawn right over the edge.

“You’ve got it-don’t fucking move-so good to me, Jack, fuck-thank you,”

You screw your eyes shut on pure instinct while your orgasm rolls through; one of your hands fumbles for purchase in his curls as he mouths sloppily over your breasts. When you manage to take another peek at him, his eyes are all crinkled up like he’s smiling while his mouth remains focused on the task at hand. A little tug on his hair and he’s cheerily licking his way down your abdomen, really letting his tongue drag so he has more time to grind against your thigh. You can already feel the wet spot forming on his boxer briefs, such a romantic!

“Having fun down there?” you purr. Jack jerks his head up, revealing a red splotch on the point of his chin.

“God, yes. Can I lick you? Please?” You’d think he’s the one who’d just came from how breathy he sounds. You cross your ankles between his shoulder blades and readjust your grip on his hair.

“Always.”

For once, Jack shows some restraint eating you. It’s all broad, slow licks in time with your heartbeat; he falls right into a natural rhythm that reminds you of crashing waves. His fingers lace together across your stomach like he’s praying, and each adoring exhale only adds to the effect. Every time he dives back in after catching his breath, a new drip flows out hot and coppery to coat him from the nose down. It’s such a perfect mess; the harsh-edged, gleaming paint job stretching ear to ear and the little smear between his eyebrows make him look like he’s been baptized in your blood.

It’s a wonder he can even hear your faint whispers of “Jack, just-just fuck me, please,” over how shamelessly he’s dragging his face through you, but he’s always been something of a miracle worker.

There’s a long, indulgent slurp like a bathtub finishing draining that makes your thoughts blur around the edges before he allows you to pull him off you and slide your feet languidly under his shorts. You’re way too sleepy to be of much help, but he’s happy to shove the waistband low enough to tuck under his balls and half wipe his mouth with the back of his hand as he crawls back up to you.

The blood pools sluggishly towards the high points of Jack’s face, and a drop splatters onto your cheek before he can stop it. Without hesitation, he swoops down to lap it up and kiss a fainter mark in its place. Barely audible, you somehow remember to pant a reminder into his ear.

“You just gotta be careful right now, my cervix is like-”

“-right up front, I remember. I gotcha, no worries,” he presses another sticky kiss to your temple as he pushes halfway in, abs clenching to keep from slipping too deep. He’s delightful as always, but each thrust is winding your nerves tighter, making your clit ache just as much as the rest of you. Fumbling once again at the nightstand, you find another vibe designed to rest snugly between you two so he’s got both hands free to rest his chin on, just rocking away while he watches you drift off. When he hits at just the right angle, you back bows up hard enough to audibly crack in relief. Those waves of relaxation mixing with the constant rumbling from the toy overwhelm you once again, dissolving what’s left of your discomfort and tugging you towards unconsciousness.

Jack can’t hold himself back when he feels you practically sucking him back in on every outstroke, and a brazen whine bursts from his throat as he pulls out, freeing a gush of pink tinged cum. It only feels natural to lean up to kiss him and lap the residual streaks from around his lips.

“Feel better?” he sighs against you, grinning so wide the drier patches on his dimples crack and start to flake off onto the towel.

“So much better,” your words slur together, and the rest of your thoughts scatter once your heads falls back onto the pillow

“You want a hot washcloth?”

“Mmmm,” It takes you a second to piece the simple sentence together; you’re still blinking away the residual stars from your vision.

“In ten minutes?”

[mavrintarou]

[Daddies in December] Namikaze Minato

I am on a roll! Lol. Not Haikyuu but... you have to admit, Minato is quite a daddy. Not how I would have liked to write my first story on Minato - it is dark (well, I consider his behavior dark).

Warning: manipulating Minato, explicit pregancy smut. If you're new, this is my third day writing a Daddies in December - check out Akaashi and Sakusa in my masterlist :)

.

For the last ten minutes, Minato observed Y/n sleeping peacefully, even after a night of lovemaking in the early hours. His fingers gently caressed her cheek, and he smiled whenever her brows furrowed, drawing her closer to his comforting arms.  

He tightens his arms around her, molding her body into his as he rests his chin on the crown of her head.

Y/n let out a soft sigh, wrapping an arm around his waist.

I’m never going to let you go, he thought to himself.

He will live with the sins of breeding her to keep her by his side. That was the only way he was sure he could tie her to him for life. He knew Y/n was loyal and dreamed of a family. Who would be best to make that happen? Him. She did not realize it yet, but he was the best thing she had and he was the only thing she needed. Together, they will raise their child and live happily.

He kept track of her monthly cycle, timing her fertile days and the day she ovulated to ensure an almost guaranteed pregnancy. He then monitored her symptoms, kept a close on her, and continued to shower her with affection.

When he would feel her hesitate or feel her feelings and affection change, he would reel her back in.

Who was there for her when the pipes in her apartment building burst? Him.

Who was there for her when a stranger tried to rob her? Him.

“Stay close to me, Y/n. I’ll protect you. Only I can protect you.” He cooed, calming her down.

A month and a half goes by and Minato continued to pay close attention to her body, seeing if his cum had taken place but Y/n showed no signs of being pregnant.

He wasted no time fucking her at any chance he got. He punctured all the condoms he purchased with a needle, even a few times just in case.

Minato was becoming possessive by the day and all that was on his mind was Y/n.

He had accidentally slipped, scaring her.

“You’re supposed to be mine!” he shouted, angry that Y/n could not understand why he wouldn’t allow her to go out with her colleagues. He quickly tried to apologize, turn the tables that he was just insecure because he didn’t trust her male colleagues to not make a move on her.

He could see it in her eyes as she tried to play it off that it wasn’t a big deal but he knew Y/n, he knew she was plotting to run.

Run from him.

And he wasn’t going to allow it.

But this one time, he did. He knew he would get her back soon enough.

He let her go for a week, it killed him. Minato kept a close eye on her, hired someone to keep a tab on her every move and to keep her safe.

Until the day came…

He smiled as he opened the door, seeing a complete mess Y/n. “Come here, baby.” He opened his arms and she crashed into him, finding peace in him.

The words she said to him over the phone repeated over in his head, “I’m pregnant, Minato… what do we do?”

“We’re going to get married,” he responded with a firm yet gentle tone. “I am committed to doing the honorable thing – marrying you and ensuring that you and our child bear my last name.” She opened her mouth to protest when he pressed a finger to her lips, “it is the right thing to do for our child, we must think about them now, not us.” Knowing he was right, he pulled her into his arms, “leave everything to me. Everything will be alright. You just worry about staying healthy for our baby.”

He moved Y/n into his condo, remodeling his place to accommodate a child.

“Everything I do is for you and baby,” Minato whispered, tilting her chin and pressing his lips to hers. He smiled when she kissed him back, hungrily.

Y/n mumbled something and wiggled in his arms, trying to put space between them.

“What?” he asked.

“Too hot…” she repeated, still half asleep. “Too hot…”

Minato clicked his tongue and loosened his hold on her as she rolled around in his arms, away from him. She kicked the comforters, exposing her naked body.

His morning wood had been aching and he has been putting it off.

Scooting closer, he spooned her. His hand reached around and between her legs, a satisfied smile on his face as he felt how wet she was considering he had wiped her down.

“Y/n,” he cooed, slipping a finger into her heat.

“No – no more…” she tried to push his hand away, yet her thighs closed in.

“I need you,” he whispered, lifting her leg to slide his cock in between her thighs. Her soft whimper was all he needed to know that she was giving in to him. “I need you, badly… please?”

She looked over her shoulders, “be… gentle…”

Pressing a kiss to her naked shoulder, “promise.” He shift her half on her front side and moved behind on top of her. Bending her leg, he guide his cock into her wet pussy.

He could never have enough of her.

He rocked slowly, reminding himself to be gentle.

Minato reach to massage her tit, before spreading his palm against her belly.

When he first met her, he knew she was his. She was already beautiful to his eyes but with the glow of her pregnancy, Minato vowed he was going to keep that glow in her.

If that meant he would keep putting a baby in her, he would. She glowed so beautifully.

“Mina…” she reached for his arm, “f – faster…”

“You said you gentle…” he teased, snapping his hips. He lift her leg, hooking it over his shoulder.

“Gentle and fast…”

“And deeper?”

“And deeper.”

Minato nipped her ankle, and gripped her thigh, holding it in place as he rocked deeper into her. His thumb found her swollen clit and began rubbing.

“No – no… I’ll cum…”

“That’s the whole point,” he chuckled, he too was close to cumming. Y/n tensed and twisted her body, cumming on his cock as he fasten his hips until he ejaculated.

He pressed a kiss to her ankle, the fresh teeth mark before setting her leg down. Leaning over he pressed a kiss to her lips, “good morning.”

. . .

E/n: This man... nothing edited, just whipping these at the moment.

>>> @queenelleee @mfreedomstuff @erintaro @callmeraider @chaotic-fangirl-blog @wolffmaiden @cloud-lyy

[sunflowersandsapphires]

hello my darling love i would like to purchase a peony!

Matt and Foggy trying to cook dinner in college once they finally get a room with access to a kitchen 🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷

i just think they’d both be hilariously clueless

Flinching at the sound of thick metal slabs clanging together, you dug your nails into clammy palms. “Are you sure you don’t need any help in there?”

”NO!“ ”All good, bug!“ Were the two responses that flew from the warm light of the kitchen, the men yelling them still concealed by the thin wall separating you.

Squeezing your eyes shut, you willed your anxiety to quiet, running through the quickest route out of the building in case a fire broke out. Which seemed far too likely at this point.

You couldn't blame the boys for their excitement, living a whole year without a kitchen must've been torture. But you didn't quite trust the pair of them with knives. Or open flames.

Unfortunately for your anxiety, they'd insisted on cooking you dinner when you got back to town. It was sweet and so adorably them that you agreed to the idea, only regretting it when their smoke alarm was set off. For the third time.

Abandoning the code of manners you'd been bound by, you darted into the kitchen, fanning a hand in front of your face to waft the pale smoke away from your nose. Blinking through the sudden irritatant assaulting your vision, you made out the shadowy outlines of your two best friends, the shorter of the pair straining to reach the ceiling to reset the smoke detector. Poor Matt had his hands mashed over his ears, hunching further and further in on himself as the white disc shrieked from above.

Jogging past Foggy, you placed a hand on Matt's shoulder, leading him out of the room when he toppled into you with a whine. Once you'd half-walked, half-carried Matt over to their second-hand couch, the beeping ceased. Both of you sighed heavily, tilting farther into each other's space with relief.

”Ow,“ Matt chuckled weakly, nudging your pulse point with his nose.

Humming sympathetically, you brushed his fringe from his forehead. ”You should take some aspirin before you get a migraine.“

”I would, but all my stuff is still in boxes.“ He murmured with a shudder.

”Well,” Foggy entered the room, looking like a weary housewife with a scorched tea towel hanging over his shoulder and a fraying apron tied around his waist. “Chicken's toast. No coming back from that. Ideas?”

“Pizza?” Matt suggested, his voice still hushed, as if he were still hearing the beeping and his vocal chords hadn't adjusted.

“I could eat pizza.” You agreed, stomach grumbling its assent. Looking to Foggy, you beamed at him when he gave a firm nod.

“Great plan kids. Hang tight.” Whipping out his phone, he paced toward an armchair while dialing.

“Probably for the best,” Matt remarked with a smirk. “There was no way you were making it out tonight without food poisoning if we cooked for you.”

With a shrug, you elbowed him gently. “Cut yourself some slack, trouble. You have plenty of time to practice.”

[latenightdaydreams]

Oh, Author. To be in your presence (asks) one again is such a delight. With you and your divine power (writing)... Will you care to bless this lady by fulfilling her simple request? 🙏

Upon your Sub!König revelation (headcanon), a thought - a need - has been lingering in my mind for far too long. According to the scripture, it has mentioned König loves to be financially dominated. If this is true, grant us with the vision of Reader purchasing the best and the most expensive items - cough, toys and lingerie, cough - in the market as some sort of surprise for König. But it comes off as shocking news to him when he finds out whose is it for... It isn't meant for Reader at all. It's all meant for him. I am quite sure we know what ensues next: Our supposedly intimidating giant in lingerie, being teased and pleasured by toys 🤭

Sigh, what a sight to behold. A sight I shall engrave in my mind. Oh, and to add a little bit of a personal spice preference: Konig addresses Dom!Reader as "Meisterin (Mistress)".

Why such an absurd request? Unfortunately, I have quite the fascination for pathetic submissive men. And what better candidate to push into such abyss but our man König 😮‍💨🤌

Anyway, breaking out of my weird, poor attempt at formal speech. I hope you have a great day/night ahead and have been recovering from the pain you mentioned before 🫂 Take plenty of rest, stay hydrated and eat well, alright? Here's plenty of love that hopefully breaks your device screen and ends up san mothering you: ❤️💕💞💓💗🩷💖💝

You're so sweet🩷 Thank you for wishing me well! I also love how you wrote this hahaha

Submissive König is such a baby girl. I always think of this artist work! @ marndraws on twitter😮‍💨 They draw amazing sub/soft König.

A Little Treat (fem)

MDNI🔞

Master List

Sub Head Canon

>cw: fem/afab, bondage, toys, oral, sub/dom

1.4k word count

🪀

.

.

While sitting at his desk in the office, his phone goes off. The ringtone he has set only for you. He pushes himself back from the desk to check the message.

“Send $1,000🩷,”

König can’t help but to smile and he sends you 2k and text back, “I sent extra just in case. Love you.”

Standing in the middle of a high-end sex shop, you look down at your phone and smile. König is always so sweet. You walk forward to a classic maid outfit on the rack inspecting it. A kind woman wearing a black suit comes over with a kind smile.

“May I help you in any way?”

“Yes, actually. Do you carry this in XXXL?”

Once you get home, König hears the car pull up. He quickly abandons his work to rush downstairs and assist you. His eyes land on you ask you wait for him inside the car. In a hurry, he opens the driver’s door for you, holding his hand out to help you out.

“The bags are in the back seat.” You say as he kisses your hand.

“I’ll grab them.” König lets go of your hand and grabs four bags out of the back. His eyes widen as he sees where the bags are from. Excitement rushes through his body. “Liebling, what do you have planned for tonight?”

A small smirk crosses your lips. “You’ll see.”

You walk ahead of König as you both enter the house. Going straight upstairs to the bedroom, you sit on the bed as he places the bags on top of your shared dresser. His eyes gloss over you as he walks to you.

“May I kiss you?”

“Yes.” You turn your head up for him as he leans down and kisses your lips tenderly.

“Danke…” His voice was low as he pulls away from the kiss; looking at you with such adoring eyes.

“Are you ready to see what I got?”

“Ja, absolutely.”

“Sit.” You stand and walk over to the bags and bring them to him.

König sits wide eyed as you pull out a riding crop. He can feel his dick tingle slightly, thinking of your ass jiggling once he hits it. Then a pair of handcuffs; his eyebrows raise in surprise. He continues to watch as you pull out many types of toys and his cock gets hard. Then you hold up a maid’s outfit…clearly not in your size. He tilts his head.

“You’ve been such a good boy lately; I want to treat you.”

“Das ist für mich?”

“All for you.” You say, holding the outfit out to him. “Try it on.”

He stands slowly and grabs the outfit. You sit on the bed opening the packaging to some toys as he gets dressed. König stands there looking at himself in the mirror. His muscles bulging in the tight outfit.

Stepping out of the bedroom, König sees you fully undressed. His jaw drops as he looks up and down your body.

“You look so hot König.”

He blushes and looks down at his own body before bashfully looking back up at you. “Ja?”

“Yes… come here.”

He walks to stand in front of you, his pale blue eyes gazing down at you. You reach up to caress his body, feeling his muscles underneath the fabric of the outfit. A hand dropping down to go under the skirt of the outfit, grabbing his hard cock.

“My handsome boy…” The words leave in a whisper as you walk around him, grabbing the cuff and placing them on his wrist.

You turn and walk to the bed, beckon him to follow you. The giant war criminal listens to you, no questions asked. “Bend over.”

He bends over the bed. His muscular ass showing from underneath the skirt of the maid’s outfit. You rub your hand over his ass before spanking lightly. Reaching for the riding crop, you step back and lightly tap his ass. No reaction. You reach back further and hit him with it again. He jumps slightly before letting out a nervous chuckle.

“Are you okay?”

“Ja.”

“Yes what?” You hit him again. A small red mark appearing on his pale skin.

“Ja Meisterin.”

“That’s my good boy.” You spank him a few more times. Reaching down, you grasp his balls and tug on them slightly before spanking him again. His body jumping slightly, making you giggle as you spank him once more.

“Who owns you?”

“You do, Meisterin.” The tone of his voice so tender.

“Good boy. Now lay on your back for me.” He maneuvers himself further onto the bed, rolling on to his back as he waited for your next move.

You go through one of the bags and find tape, nipple clamps, and a small pink vibrator. In one hand you hold the items and walk to the bed. With one finger you begin to flick his nipples, getting them hard. Once his pink nipples were erect, you place the clamps on them.

König winced slightly, but then bit his lower lip. “My little pain slut.” You giggle as you tug on the chain connected to the clamps. Standing off the bed, you walk around it, lightly hitting his abdomen with the riding prop.

König’s eyes are following your every move, watching as you walk in front of him and lift the skirt again, exposing his erection. Your hand wraps around it and begins to stroke his cock every so slightly. Spitting on it to lubricate it. König lets out shuttered breaths as you so this, the tip of his cock leaking even more precum.

Letting go, you get the small vibrator out, turning it on the first setting, then rubbing it on the underside of his cock’s head. His eyes go wide as he feels the vibration. He’s never tried touching himself with a toy before.

“You have to tell me which setting you like best.” You say as you switch through all five settings. On the third quick burst of vibrations, you see König begin to twitch.

“Tha- that one.” He manages to get out. “Bitte meine Meisterin.”

“Perfect.” The tape was easy to pull as you begin to wrap it around his boner, securing the vibrator to him. His legs twitch as he closes his eyes. A firm hand reaching down, grasping his jaw. “Open your eyes.”

He listens, his eyes instantly falling to your breasts. His mind fuzzy with the overwhelming sensation he is feeling right now.  Without breaking your eye contact, you climb up on to the bed and staddle his abdomen. You begin to grind your wet cunt along his solid belly, covering him in your arousal. A moan escaping your lips as König watches you do this with an intense gaze.

“Are you ready to eat my pussy?”

“Please Meisterin, please let me taste your pussy.”

“You’re being such a good boy.” Your legs move up until your lingering over his face, but facing to you can see his body. “Rub your nose in it.”

König uses his strong core to lean up and bury his aquiline nose deep into your pussy; taking in a deep breath as he does. Your smell is like candy to him, he can’t get enough. Slowly his tongue comes out and begins to lick between your pink folds. Thick globs of your creamy arousal being scooped up by his tongue.

In response you begin to rock your hips, matching his rhythm. Fingers going through his hair and pulling tightly. “Just like that.”

You lean forward and begin to stroke the shaft of him cock, his hips beginning to buck up into your hand rapidly. “Someone wants to cum…” You tease, feeling his head nod underneath you as he moans into your cunt.

“Will you cum for me?”

His hips begin to thrust quicker into your hand as his moans become louder. His tongue movements less precise and more erratic, like he is only focused on getting a taste and not actual pleasure for you.

“Good boy, cum for master.”

You lead forward so your ass if hoovering over his face instead of sitting on it. His balls tighten as his cock throbs. He tries his hardest to put his face back into your pussy while he cums, but you don’t give him that satisfaction. Toes curling as you leave him with only the view of your tight ass hole and creamy cunt.

His cock shoots out cum, the thick creamy cum falling on to your hand and his abdomen.

“Oh fuck!” König moans loudly. The vibration on the tip of his now extremely sensitive head was driving him wild. “Please, it’s too much now.”

A mischievous smirk crosses your face as you sit back down on his face. “Cum again for me."

[spankedquail]

A Good Girl's New Year

Eeek. Daddy’s been a little under the weather lately, and the holidays have been full of cozy vibes, lazy mornings, and indulgent nights. But as he reminded me tonight—our last night of lazing around—those days are over.

"You’re going to be pushed in January."

It wasn’t a suggestion. It wasn’t a threat. It was a promise.

A promise of structure, discipline, and accountability. A promise that I’ll be held to higher standards—stripped of my excuses, pushed past my comfort zone, and made to rise.

Goals for me in 2025

Health I’ll be wearing my fitness tracker pretty much 24/7, other than during showers. It’s more than a tool to track progress; it’s a symbol of ownership, a reminder that my body is his to guide and shape. The tracker syncs to my phone, but my husband has complete access to my phone, of course. Each night, he’ll review the day’s data—steps, workouts, vitals, sleep, calories burned. When the numbers don’t meet expectations, a reckoning will swiftly follow with his belt.

Losing 10 pounds and then maintaining a goal weight range is non-negotiable. Calories will be tracked diligently. Slipping up isn’t an option—Daddy’s discipline ensures I stay on course.

Daddy will work with both me and my fitness trainer to ensure I’m meeting exercise goals. Running farther, building endurance, and achieving milestones that challenge me physically.

Building Good Habits Every morning, my weight will be tracked before showering, between 8:00 and 8:15. Bedtime routines will be consistent, ensuring I get enough rest to perform my best. Deviations from this structure will of course be corrected, swiftly and thoroughly. There's nothing worse than getting paddled first thing in the morning, so I'll need to push myself to not indulge in sleeping in.

He wants to increase my corner time and transform it into more of a daily ritual, a space for reflection and accountability. The corner time for this kind of use case won't be long -- just ten minutes before bed to ground myself in our dynamic, for example. Maybe ten minutes before we leave the house for important events to center myself. The corner time he thinks will be most helpful for our marriage is ten minutes after work (especially on the days I work from home) to transition into the right mindset after the work day. My husband insists on this because he knows how much it helps me reset and realign.

Financial Accountability This year, my husband will take full control of my discretionary spending. For regular home items, he’ll review my purchases to ensure I’m sticking to the essentials. For personal items, I’ll be limited to a debit card (the Good Girl Card) that he tops up according to his whm. Emergency funds are strictly for emergencies—no exceptions. Shopping habits will be curbed, and purchases monitored. If I slip, I know the consequences will involve a long and hard correction. I expect this to be my biggest challenge this year.

Behavior Training This is constant. I’m expected to be accepting of his authority, never rebellious or disobedient. This comes somewhat naturally, but having small reminders of my place in our marriage are important as life can get in the way.

Routine corner time and regular paddlings or strappings ensure I stay aligned with his expectations. We'll continue our Sunday maintenance discipline to reinforce our dynamic and curb any signs of budding bad behavior.

When I’ve faltered, the punishment isn’t just corrective—it’s humbling. But even in those moments, I feel safe, knowing that every correction comes from a place of care and investment in my growth.

Intellectual Growth Two books a month—Daddy picks one, something that will intrigue and challenge me, and I pick the other. Reading isn’t just for pleasure; it’s for discipline, expansion, and focus. He ensures I don’t take the easy way out, pushing me to engage with ideas that make me uncomfortable or stretch my understanding.

Permission for Vices Alcohol and marijuana require permission, with a strict cap of no more than two alcoholic drinks per night if we’re out, and only with his approval. The control isn’t restrictive; it’s grounding. Knowing he has the final say helps me stay intentional about my choices, rather than indulging mindlessly.

Fun and Travel While my husband holds the reins on my finances, he definitely encourages me to invest in experiences and memories. Fun travel plans with friends are going to be a big part of my 2025. As long as savings / investment goals (that he dictates and manages, of course) are hit, he's happy to discuss a plan and a budget and help me make it happen. I often travel with him, but for a few trips a year it's just with a friend or a group of friends. He trusts me to behave myself, and to connect with him regularly with updates.

Maintaining Standards My household chores remain the same, with no reduction or addition in expectations. Each task is to be done diligently and in a timely manner. He doesn't like to remind me of my responsibilities. I know the consequences if I let things slide.

This year is about growth, discipline, and deepening our dynamic. Daddy’s control isn’t just about rules—it’s about shaping me into the best version of myself. His strictness isn’t just punishment; it’s care. His authority isn’t just dominance; it’s love.

Every correction, every expectation, every act of guidance reminds me of this: I’m his.

(We don't really do things like set quotas for me providing him with sexual pleasure or anything like that. My body is his to mold, train, and use at his whim, so sex isn't really something that's really negotiated or denied him pretty much ever. My husband is a sensible man, and his judgement is final on this like it is on everything else.)

Hope you all have a happy and fulfilling new year!

[heartfullofleeches]

Happy Birthday, C.C!

(And a happy belated Valentine's day. One holiday is a bit more important to me than the other. Gotta celebrate my favorite incubus's day or he may cut me. Reader is brief mentioned to be wearing lingerie, but there really isn't anything that suggestive in this fic- Enjoy!)

-

When asked what he wanted for his birthday, C.C gave the same answer nearly every year.

"Why would I want anything when I already have everything I need?.... A new pair of shoes would be nice, but I'm really not that picky about what I get."

A successful career, the funds to purchase whatever trivial possession he desired. If he hadn't found fame and fortune early on in his life on earth, C.C would have been more than happy to mooch off of the desperate, lonely humans who'd do give him just about anything for a crumble of his attention. A short while ago, the only presents that mattered were what he received from the select few in his family he deemed worth the title, but something that has changed recently - another person entering his life who he puts on the same pedestal as the blood he holds dear if not higher.

If there was one thing C.C didn't want for his birthday - it was waking up in an empty bed all by himself.

Reaching an arm over your side of the bed, the drowsy demon is rudely dragged from his sleep as he finds no one there next to him. It's funny to think that a year prior he would have had no problem with this. Now, his heart sinks every time there's no one at his side. You're cruel for making him so dependent on you like this - and not being beside him on his big day.

C.C grumbles something under his breath - stumbling out of bed, making a grab for his phone on the nightstand as he exits the room. The second he turns it on, he's bombarded with hundreds of birthday wishes from friends and fans across several social media accounts. C.C swipes them all away, only bother to read any of the notifications in case he misses a message from you saying you're out. Why you'd leave without him is beyond him, but it was the best his groggy mind could come up with. Turning the corner that leads to the living room, a sea of curses sound from the kitchen muffled by running water.

"Shit, shit, shit- Fuck, why won't it come off?!"

C.C would recognize that voice anywhere. He scurries into the kitchen - biting back a laugh at your unfortunate state of appearance. There you stood over the sink, frantically scrubbing at your palms with a sponge. It was all over your hands, the robe you wore, even your face - pink stains that stubbornly refused to come out no matter how hard you tried. On the counter behind you was a bowl filled with a pinkish mixture - a bottle of red food dye still mixing its top and covered in red fingerprints seating beside it. C.C creeps over while you're distracted and sticks his fingers in the batter.

It's pancake mix.

"Mmm... I think all that dye is supposed to be in the bowl, babe."

Startled by the voice behind you, the sponge hits the bottom of the sink with a wet splat as you look behind you - hands quick at fixing your robes over scantily dressed body. "C.C? You're awake?! You're usually not up til noon - I thought I had more time.... Happy Birthday!"

The more attempt to hide it, the more C.C notices parts of your skimpy attire beneath the robe he had got you on your own special day. C.C loved to see you in his favorite color, but the bright pink fabric lessened the nearly see through aspect of your underwear and top in this lighting. The stockings you wore made up for it well enough - another accessories he loved to see on you that he made sure to voice many times before.

C.C gathers some of the paper towels on the counter. "Well I see you were at least trying to make breakfast - or get readying for Halloween a few months in advance. Sexy vampire is always a nice look."

"The seal just wouldn't come off and when it finally did it spilled all over me... I'm sorry for messing breakfast."

"Hush." C.C pulls you in close, wetness bleeding through his shirt as he embraces you, but he doesn't seem to mind. "We still have everything we need. I'll help you finish up and then we can take a shower together and spend the day in bed. You didn't put that outfit on just for show, did you?~"

"No, it was actually meant to be your Valentine's gift but.... I still haven't gotten your birthday present yet. I was going to take you to the mall and let you decide since there's so many things you like..."

C.C holds you tighter - grinning from ear to ear as he looks over your shoulder at all you've done for him. 'Don't worry.... I have everything I want right here."

[cowboy-boots-and-leather-jackets]

Ownership contract. Would you sign it?

Boi will live with Sir.

Sir will dictate the daily chores Boi performs (including but not limited to: cleaning the homestead, cooking for Sir, and other household chores.)

Mandatory daily dress code for Boi: cowboy boots, Wrangler jeans, snap shirt, belt with a buckle, cowboy hat.

Mandatory Friday & Saturday night dress code: black leather gear. Full uniform.

Aside from western or leather fetish gear, Boi is not permitted to wear or own any other type of clothing. Sir will decide what Boi will wear, on a daily basis.

Boi will address Sir as “Master” at all times. 

At the start of every day, Boi will recite an oath of loyalty to Sir, as follows: “Master, I thank you for your daily guidance and direction. It is an honor to be in submission to you. I pledge to be your humble, obedient and dutiful servant. My purpose in life and only desire is to please you in all things I do. I relinquish all autonomy over my body, mind and soul and grant you full power over my destiny. You, Master, are the center of my life and I am my best self when I submit to your control and strive to please you. I am eternally grateful for the blessing bestowed upon me to be in servitude to you.”

Boi will delete / eliminate all social media accounts and profiles from the internet and not create new ones.

Boi is forbidden to possess his own phone or laptop. Boi must earn the privilege of occasional use of Sir’s phone / laptop.

Internet, television, and phone access are only allowed when Sir permits it, and only with Sir’s strict monitoring supervision.

Boi is forbidden to carry his own cash or debit / credit cards. Any purchases Boi needs will be made for him by Sir. 

All forms of Boi’s personal ID will be surrendered to Sir for safekeeping and kept under lock & key. It will be produced only when absolutely necessary.

Daily curfew is 7:00 pm. At this time, Boi will be placed in wrist restraints (locked behind Boi’s back), gagged, collared & chained, and remain that way until morning (5:00 am).

Saturday night and all day Sunday is mandatory lockdown time: Boi will remain bound, gagged and collared for a full 24 hour period. 

Boi may never leave Sir’s presence or to be on his own. Boi may accompany Sir into town if Sir allows it, but must remain within Sir’s sight lines at all times.

Sir will determine who Boi is allowed to interact with. Unless Sir gives express permission to communicate, Boi is to avoid speaking with or making eye contact with anyone other than Sir.

Sir may occasionally decide to go out on his own and not have Boi accompany him. In such cases, Boi will remain at Sir's home bound, gagged, and collared until Sir returns. Under no circumstances will Boi be allowed to move about freely outside of Sir’s presence.

Boi will keep himself physically fit and aim to be pleasing to Sir in both outward appearance and general demeanor.

Boi is forbidden to smoke cigarettes or marijuana, use recreational drugs, drink alcohol or caffeinated beverages, or eat fast food.

When Sir speaks to him, Boi is required to maintain direct eye contact. Boi may not look away when he’s spoken to.

Boi will never interrupt Sir, or speak without first being told he may speak. 

When Sir allows Boi to speak, Boi must bow his head in deference to his superior while he speaks.

Sir is always right and has the last word in every discussion. Boi is never to disagree or contradict Sir, and must always agree with Sir.

Boi understands and acknowledges that he is the owned property of Sir. Boi agrees that he has no freedom or rights and is entirely dependent on Sir’s direction and subject to Sir’s whims.

Boi will be required to sign a legal agreement to a guardianship arrangement with Sir, granting him full legal control over Boi.

[blackberryshortcake]

A Quest?

So, I'm sort of well aware that the Black Butler fandom is basically dead, but I've had this fic rolling around in my head for a WHILE now and I figured I'd give it a shot. I did my best to grammar check this so forgive me if there are mistakes.

Sebastian Michaelis x FemReader <3

Warnings: this fic will contain mature content such as foul language alchole consumption, smoking, general innaproprate behavior (MDNI 18+), mentions of blood, weapons, and death

If you are sensitive to any of the above warnings pass this one up.

Synopsis: A child of Dionysus long reserved and practically retired from the world of gods and monsters finds herself on impromptu quest with a demon, his master and her trusted companion Odysseus (a large black dog gifted to her by Hades, the god of the dead).

Will she survive or will she perish like so many demigods before her....

The heavy door to the small cabin slammed shut behind her as soon as it opened, shaking the snow from her boots so as not to drag it through the whole house. A sigh fell from Y/N’s lips as she looked over at the unlit fireplace and the large black German shepherd in front of it.

“Ody?” The dog lifted its head in response rather than get up and trot over to its owner.

“Lazy dog,” she muttered under her breath as she shrugged off the many layers she had put on before venturing out into the snow.

“They're saying we're gonna get a lot of snow tonight, you know.” She spoke to the dog as though he would talk back. “I stacked some firewood on the porch just in case we get snowed in.” The dog did not reply, merely content with sleeping the afternoon away instead of entertaining the girl's odd tendencies.

............................

At this point, the sun had long set. The wind howled wildly outside the cabin, and the snow was borderline white-out. It didn't bother her much, though. That's what she got for moving somewhere so remote, merely because it meant she wouldn't have to pay a mortgage. Y/N had just sat down with a book and a whiskey when the lights suddenly cut out. The soft music that had been playing from the Alexa in the corner of the room was now silent.

A sigh fell from her lips once more as she reached for her phone, turning on the flashlight.

“Ody, move. I gotta go check the generator.” The dog merely groaned before jumping off the young woman's lap to take his place in front of the fire. After pulling on a few layers and a winter coat, she headed out the back door to the small shed that sat about 100 yards from the house.

“I should have anticipated this damn thing would freeze,” she muttered as she kicked it, hoping maybe, just maybe, it would start back up.

“Damn.”

The trek back to the house was short but still difficult due to the sheer amount of snow on the ground.

“Ody? Looks like we're gonna have to go into town tomorrow.”

There was no response from the large black dog; the only sound was the fire cracking in the hearth.

“What do you say we curl up on the couch tonight?”

One might think the girl was lonely, living out here all by herself with nothing but her dog to keep her company. Sometimes she was lonely, but not tonight. The snowstorm raged outside, the cabin was dark, but the chill had yet to set in. Tonight, she felt safe, knowing that not a monster in sight would dare attack her with conditions the way they were outside. Tomorrow, however, she would have to venture into town to purchase the means to fix the generator. Tomorrow could wait, though. Tonight, she sat curled up on the couch, a fire in the hearth, and Ody curled into her side. Tomorrow could wait.

............................

The first thing she noticed when she awoke was that Ody was no longer curled into her side like usual.

“Ody?” Her voice was hoarse from sleep. Her eyes peeled open to reveal not the wooden walls of her humble abode but a lavish guest room with wallpaper you'd probably see in your grandmother's house.

“What the fuck?” She was no longer on her couch under a mountain of blankets but tucked neatly into an ornate queen-sized bed that looked like it belonged in a museum. Before she could get another thought—or perhaps insult—on the room's furnishings, a sharp knock came upon the door. Her head snapped over to the mahogany door as the knocking was heard again.

A smooth voice came from the other side: “Madam, are you awake?”

Before the voice on the other side could say another word, Y/N threw open the door, half-expecting some sort of chimera to be on the other side. But alas, it was not. Her eyes drank in the sight of the man before her. He was taller than her, but not by much. His hair was pitch black, and his skin was practically a shade warmer than milk.

“Where am I?” The words came out as more of a demand than a question.

“You are at the Phantomhive estate, Madam. My staff found you and your dog on the front steps this morning, unconscious. May I ask how you came to be there?” Hearing him speak more than a few words threw her off even more. Why did he sound British?

“Ody?” she asked. The confusion on his face made her realize she needed to clarify.

“My dog, his name is Ody—where is he?”

“He is being attended to by the servants. I believe my young master would like to have a word with you.”

“‘Young master?’” she muttered under her breath. A million thoughts were running through her head. Am I dead? Maybe this is a sick prank by the gods. Or I was poisoned. Or maybe this is a test. Or…..

The man's voice cut off her spiraling thoughts as he cleared his throat and gestured for her to come with him.

“Perhaps a chat with the young master might clear something up, Miss…?”

“Y/N.”

“Miss Y/N.”

He led her through the halls of what she could only assume was some sort of mansion. The silence was palpable before the man, whom she assumed was a butler—he was certainly dressed like one—spoke once more.

“If you don’t mind me asking, Miss Y/N, where are you from? Your accent is quite odd.”

“Oh, I’m from America. You can just call me Y/N. There’s no need for formalities.”

There was something odd about this man she couldn’t quite put her finger on. Perhaps it was his amber eyes, or maybe it was the reeking smell of the underworld that leaked out of him. He smelled like the river.

“Whereabouts in America?” How far away was this master of his? They’d been walking for like five minutes.

“Well, I’m originally from New York, but I live in Pennsylvania.”

“I see.”

“I see.” What the fuck does that mean?

They came to a stop in front of a large door. The dark-haired man raised his right hand, and a sharp knock befell the door. A quiet “Come in” was heard on the other side. The butler swiftly opened the door and gestured for her to enter before closing it, all but blocking the only exit. The office was larger than she expected. A large leather chair spun around to face her as she stepped forward to stand in front of the desk.

A boy?

A boy no older than 14 sat in the chair with a rather bored look on his face. His elbow came to rest on the desk before he spoke: “My butler tells me you and your dog were found unconscious on the steps in rather odd attire.”

“Uhh, yeah. I was sort of hoping you knew how I got here. See, all I remember is going to sleep last night and waking up here.” She shifted nervously where she stood, ready for whatever illusion had been placed on her to fall away any second.

“I see. Well, perhaps we should start with this. What are yours and your dog’s names?” The boy seemed rather amused by the whole situation, which only made her more nervous. She fiddled with the ring on her right hand.

“I’m Y/N, and my dog’s name is Ody.”

“Ody, and what is that short for?”

“Odysseus.” The tall butler crept closer, still blocking the path to the exit door. She could feel his looming presence as well as some odd magic that connected him to the boy.

“Interesting.” Was all he said before, in the blink of an eye, she had leapt to the side as the creepy butler attempted to grab her. The white steel ring on her right hand transformed into a double-edged sword.

She pointed it at the man in question. “What the hell are you?” Her words were as sharp as the heavy short sword in her hands.

His eyes were glowing at this point, and the boy still sat in his chair, ever amused by the situation at hand.

“I could ask you the very same question. You certainly aren't mortal.” The man’s voice had changed slightly. It seemed as though he was no longer keeping up the harmless servant façade.

“I am Y/N, daughter of Dionysus.”

The boy's eyes widened slightly at her response. “It seems you were indeed correct, Sebastian. It appears she is from another world.”

Her eyes flicked between the boy and the monster she had come to know as Sebastian.

“Okay, what the fuck is going on here?”

Although taken aback by her brashness, the child formulated a response. “So tell me, are you truly a demigod?”

“Yes, and what are you? A fury?” She kept her sword pointed at Sebastian as she inched closer to inspect his face.

Sebastian only smirked before taking a finger and pushing the sword away from his face. “I assure you, I am not a monster—”

“I beg to differ. You reek of the underworld, and I can see the seal binding you to that kid. So I’m going to ask you this once—”

“Where am I, and where is my dog?” Y/N raised the sword to the monster’s throat.

“I assure you, madam, there is no need for animosity. We wish you no harm. Sebastian only wanted to ensure you were not a threat.” The boy’s voice cut through her racing thoughts.

Her head snapped over to him. “And how do I know you're not going to try and kill me, or let your monster eat me for lunch?”

“I assure you, if I wanted to harm you, I would have done so already.” Sebastian's voice was dark, and his face contorted into a falsely polite smile. Y/N lowered her sword, not yet content on putting it away but rather at ease.

“You're creepy. So what exactly are you?” she said while popping her hand on her hip.

“I am but a humble butl—”

The boy cut him off. “He's a demon, Sebastian. Cut the charade and go fetch us tea.”

“As you wish, my lord.” He placed a hand over his heart and bowed slightly before taking his leave. It was like a switch flipped, and he was a normal butler again.

“Please sit. There is much to discuss.” The boy gestured to the armchair in front of his desk. “I must properly introduce myself. I am Earl Ciel Phantomhive.”

“Cool, cool. So what year is it?”

“1889.”

“You're kidding, right?” She deadpanned.

“I assure you I do not ‘kid.’”

“That’s great, just great.” She slumped back in her chair with frustration, willing the heavy sword in her lap to return to its previous state as the steel ring on her right hand.

“And what year is it where you are from?” Ciel seemed almost hesitant to ask the question, as though he almost couldn't believe her story.

“2025. It was January 14th, 2025.”

His eyes widened in surprise, although he kept his composure.

“I just can't believe this is happening. I mean, this has to be a trick by the gods, right?” Y/N asked Ciel as though he knew her or even the answer to such a ridiculous question. She straightened her posture in her chair before continuing. “You know, you don't seem so put off by the fact that a supposed time traveler slash world traveler appeared at your doorstep.”

“My butler is a demon, and you believe I would be put off by such circumstances?”

“Fair enough. Now, how demon-y are we talking? Like straight from hell demon or like biblical demon?”

“Is there a difference?” Ciel took a second to really take a look at the odd woman before him. Her clothing, for one, was odd. She wore a sort of long-sleeve shirt that was clearly old and black. The front read the words Camp Half-Blood with a pegasus on it. Her hair was lazily thrown up in a bun, and her pants were borderline scandalous with how tight they clung to her body.

Her voice cut him out of his thoughts. “I mean, probably. I’ve never met a demon. Oh, I have met an Eudaemon, which is sort of like a demon.”

A short knock on the door cut the conversation short as Sebastian entered the room with Ody in tow.

“Pardon me, my lord, but the mutt would not stay with the servants.” Ody ran into the room before jumping on the young demigod.

“Ody!” she shouted as the dog showered her in affection. Although he seemed to have calmed down slightly, his tail still ran a million miles a minute as he sat down in front of his owner.

“He probably could smell me on you.”

Sebastian's disdain for the dog was showing as he glared holes into it.

“What's your problem? Not a dog person?” she teased.

“No. Not particularly.”

“Well, Odysseus isn’t any old dog. He’s from the underworld. He was a gift from Hades when I turned 18.”

“So he’s a hellhound?” asked Ciel.

“Sort of. It’s kind of complicated and basically requires a degree in Greek theology to understand, but yeah, you could think of him as a hellhound.”

Ciel seemed to ponder a bit as Sebastian poured the tea.

“I will allow you to stay here while you figure out how to get home, but you must stay out of sight while the manor has guests. Do you understand?” She sensed an ulterior motive to Ciel’s offer but couldn’t quite put her finger on it.

“I mean, yeah, I guess so.” Am I really saying yes to staying with the crazy kid and his pet demon?

“Sebastian, where is the bag you found with her?”

“This bag, my lord.” Her eyes trailed over to Sebastian as he held the bag in question.

“What the hell?”

“Something the matter?” Ciel asked.

“Yeah, that’s my questing backpack that was in my closet. How did it end up here?”

The demon tilted his head. “Questing?”

For not liking dogs, he sure acts like one.

“Uh, yeah. It’s kind of hard to explain, but most half-bloods have a bag they take on quests with them. Although most half-bloods don’t go on more than one quest in their life, since it’s here, I’m almost starting to think I didn’t end up here on accident.”

“Ah, sort of a divine plan?” Sebastian teased.

“Yeah, actually. Or rather, most likely. I mean, how else could I have ended up here if not for the gods sending me on a quest? Although a talk with the oracle first would have been appreciated.”

She could tell by the way these two acted that they still weren't buying into the whole “the gods are real” bit, but alas, they must believe her since Sebastian could clearly sense she is a demigod.

Ciel spoke up. “So tell me, Y/N, are there any special abilities that come with being a demigod?”

She rooted through the bag, only half listening to the question at hand.

“Well, I mean, yeah, there are the basic ones—being mostly stronger and slightly faster than most humans—and then there are the godly parent-specific ones. Like, since my dad is the god of wine, among other things, I can literally turn water into wine.”

“I see. What else can you do?” Ciel turned to look at the boy straight on.

“Well, I mean, I’m pretty good with a sword. You kind of have to be when you're fighting for your life every time you step out of camp. I'm not horrible at archery. There is one other ability I inherited from my dad, though.” She trailed off.

“And that would be?” he leaned forward in his chair.

“It’s not that important.” Brushing aside the boy's probing, she focused her attention on the dog in front of her. “Sebastian, why don’t you show our guest back to her room?”

“As you wish, my lord.”

There was a look shared between the two that, if she had been none the wiser, she would have missed. A look that said “find out more about her” without the words actually being spoken.

With her backpack swung over her shoulder and her K-9 at her side, she stood ready to go and figure out what the gods wanted her here for, of all places.

bonus point to whoever can tell me how many times she said 'Ody'.

So, this fic isn't really a Percy Jackson and Black Butler cross over but more of a demigod ends up in Black Butler fic. It was just easier to write based on an already pre-established world of gods and monsters than to pull one out of thin air ~-~.

[melis-writes]

(2024) My current collection of The Godfather/The Godfather Part II Merch Part 1!

You can check out my Al Pacino merch collection here!

Part 2 here!

All purchased in 2021 when I was in Turkey! From the top, left to right, "A Life on The Wire" is an autobiography about Al. The one and only, "The Godfather" by Mario Puzo, and the bottom left there is actually a blank Godfather notebook I purchased in Turkey as well. I have the Coppola Restoration of all 5 discs in a collection for the films and extra contents!

Godfather I and II posters! Also all purchased from local online retailers in Turkey from 2021 and 2022.

A little cardboard Vito cutout! I bought this in a local bookstore in Turkey in 2022.

My prized Michael Corleone 1:6 figurine! 🥺🖤 I got him from Aliexpress, but he certainly did not look like this because his face/head was different and he was wearing a blue suit (that he never wore in any movie ever). If I didn't modify Michael, he would have been about $350 CAD or so. He looked like this before:

I put together about $100 CAD of modifications on him to get a new had, new hands and a new suit, and voila!

My Godfather phone cases!

My Godfather funkos are everything! 🥺 Vito and Michael are the only ones that have 2 funkos from the first two films.

A Godfather air freshener is needed in my car, of course. 🤭

A cute Godfather Part II poster gifted to me by my best friend alongside more merch in 2021!

This here I was so pleasantly shocked to find in a local Turkish bookstore in 2022. I couldn't find an English version of this to save my life. It was titled (translated) as The Godfather Family Album. It's extremely unique in terms of the content inside, like a folder keeping tabs on all of the events, newspaper clippings and character profiles!

The Godfather magazine I purchased off Amazon (Canada) in 2022.

The official motion picture archives book of The Godfather from Amazon (Canada).

A 3D printout (made by a local seller in Turkey) of The Godfather's title on top of a set of Godfather playing cards (also bought from a novelty store in Turkey) in 2022.

A Godfather mug that reads "I don't apologize to take care of my family" with Vito on one side and the film's logo on the other. Found in a Turkish bookstore in 2022!

A 3D printout bust of Vito Corleone, made by a local Turkish seller I bought in 2022.

Probably one of my all time favourite merch pieces ever... this huge, glossy photo filled Godfather Family Album. I cannot recommend this enough for diehard Godfather fans! 🖤

Michael Corleone in The Godfather Part II as a phone case. 🤭

Hands down my favourite movie poster of The Godfather Part II.

A Godfather board/card game called "An Offer You Can't Refuse" was the first Godfather related game of any kind I bought in 2022 from a private seller in Canada.

The Godfather trivia game!! I've yet to meet anyone who can beat me when it comes to the first two films' trivia. 🤭😂

A mini Godfather music player that absolutely plays the most dazzling little version of the film's theme song next to a lego version of Vito! The lego vito was gifted to me in 2021 by my best friend. I bought the music player from Aliexpress in 2022.

[into-deepspace]

out of the black {part 1/3}

sylus/mc • gender neutral mc • 1k • ao3 link • part 2 • requests open reblogs appreciated!!

pre-relationship || the real OTP here is MC/sylus's money :) || annoyances to lovers Summary: Sylus gifts MC his card for their troubles, and finds that their taste is very different than what he's used to. Some encouragement is in order, don't you think?

“That’ll be six fifty-nine,” the tea shop worker says cheerily. MC nods, glancing down briefly to pull their wallet from their pocket. It’s been a long day, and on their way out of the office they’d decided that if it was a pick-me-up they wanted, then it was a pick-me-up that they’d have.

So, they’d gone slightly out of their way, parking their bike outside the tea shop they’ve frequented. They take off their helmet and fix their hair as best at they can without a mirror as they walk in. From there, it’s a simple task of waiting and deciding just what they want before they order.

Now, here they are, the last little obstacle between them and their beloved boba tea the tablet in front of them. They pull their card from their wallet…

And pause.

Right. They’d forgotten about the new card nestled behind their usual debit.

As they’d started getting closer with Sylus (maybe a bit closer than they should be getting), he’d gifted them a copy of his card. His stupid fucking black card, that he’d held almost carelessly between two fingers as he’d reached it out to them about a week or so ago.

“A treat for your troubles,” he’d smirked, and then pulled one of those little vinyl card stickers in a dark, metallic green from his pocket. “In case you don’t want the world knowing just what kind of card you’ve got in that little wallet of yours.” MC had scowled at him; how the hell he knew these stupid little details about them, they have no clue.

Not wanting to quarrel with Sylus (and knowing they’d lose), they just took the card, sitting down in a fancy nearby chair to apply the sticker because they really did not want someone catching a glimpse of this card in their pocket.

They hadn’t really planned on using it, thus why it was behind their own card. But, here they are, contemplating. They thumb at the card for a brief moment.

It’s a few dollars less from their own account. They’re not tight on money, but they definitely keep to a budget, and a few extra dollars here could mean another night of hot pot or a few more stuffed animals later. And, well, Sylus had invited them to spend freely.

They pull out the card, select the 25% tip option, and tap it to the scanner. The total comes to eight dollars and twenty-four cents, and they bite at their lip. It’s a bit much to spend on a single cup of boba tea, but Sylus shouldn’t miss it too bad, right?

A few minutes of waiting later, and they’re walking out with a cup of mango tea and a yellow straw, tucking both into their bag for the drive home. As they swing one leg over their bike, their phone buzzes. Curiously, they pause to unlock it and view the text.

New Message from Rich Asshole 6:27 PM

Do you think so lowly of me, sweetheart?

Attached is an image, a screenshot to be precise, of Sylus’s bank transactions. The contrast that MC immediately catches is almost funny.

Most of the screen consists of several large purchases, anywhere from a couple hundred to several tens of thousands of dollars. Then, at the very top and circled in red, is the eight dollar purchase MC had just made. They sigh, putting their phone back in their pocket.

Just as they merge back into the bustling Linkon traffic, their phone rings, the sound coming through their helmet. With an exasperated “Oh, my god,” they tap the side of their helmet to pick up the call.

“Hello, sweetie,” Sylus says, in that infuriatingly nice voice of his. MC glares at the traffic light they’ve just stopped at.

“What do you want.”

“Eight whole dollars,” Sylus begins, and MC can hear the stupid smirk through the phone. “And twenty-three cents. Have I failed to imbue you with a taste for the finer things in life?” The light turns green. 

“Twenty-four cents,” they say, correcting him.

“It’s worse than I thought.”

MC sighs, turning on their right blinker and merging into the corresponding lane, making a turn just a moment later.

“Did you just call to talk about my apparently lacking spending habits?” they ask. Sylus really does seem like the kind of guy to get pissy that the latest object of his interest isn’t using his assets as frivolously as they could be.

“What did you buy?” Sylus asks, completely ignoring the question. MC knows better than to try and steer the conversation back.

“Mango tea,” they reply.

“What grade?”

“Uh. Commercial?” At this, Sylus laughs, a deep and smooth thing that MC can practically hear dollar signs in. MC groans. “God, Sylus, can’t I just enjoy my eight dollar tea? That’s overpriced for us peasants, you know.” Sylus hums again, infuriating as usual.

“You don’t need to be shy, you know,” he says. “I have more than enough to provide for you ten times over.”

“What are you, my sugar daddy?” MC scoffs, turning onto the street where the Hunters’ apartments are. “You’re like those stereotypical rich boyfriends on social media, ‘Ohhh look at what I bought my girlfriend, isn’t it so expensive? Aren’t I so rich? Look how I gift her my black card so she can spend thousands of dollars a day.’”

“I wouldn’t mind if you spent a few thousand a day,” Sylus says, voice casually earnest, missing the entire point. “Do you have such purchases in mind?”

“I can’t stand you,” MC says in lieu of an answer. “I’m hanging up on you now.” And, before he can answer, they do. They cut the call with another tap to their helmet as they park their bike on the street, taking a heavy breath as they take off their helmet once more.

They think about Sylus’s words as they walk up the few flights of stairs to their apartment, and as they unlock their door, a resolve settles in their mind. It’s a bit petty, maybe, but they find that they don’t care, fuelled by annoyance.

Sylus wants them to spend his money, huh? Well, then that’s exactly what they’ll do.

[dramallamas]

Because you cannot pry British Juwon from my hands here are some Juwon headcanons based on his time in England and a bit about how it affects his life in Korea. Featuring Kwon Hyeok obviously.

Language Headcanons:

He is bilingual and is fully fluent in both English and Korean.

He learnt French in school but has forgotten most of it.

It actually got to a point where he would forget words in Korean and ask Hyeok what they were. So he would write down words he forgot and memorise them.

He still sometimes, tho very very rarely, forgets words. He has a note in his phone of them.

He spoke Korean with Hyeok but whenever either of them went out, they spoke English.

Hyeok was fluent but has not maintained the same level as Juwon since moving back to Korea.

Juwon mumbles in English to himself when thinking hard and believing he’s alone. However, people have caught him do this from time to time.

His English voice is a tiny bit deeper than his Korean one but not many people notice it (DS does tho 👀).

He speaks English pretty articulately, and has more of a southern accent.

He says scone like phone and not like gone.

Dongsik adores when Juwon speaks English and has actually picked up a couple words himself.

Unconsciously swears in English… including in rated E moments.

When he’s stressed/upset and gets the opportunity to just explode (obviously after he’s bottled it) he talks in a mush of both languages.

Other Headcanons:

Juwon went to a private school in England and Hyeok taught him extra at home.

He did not have a lot of friends but had one or two that he liked tolerated.

Definitely got picked on by other kids for being quiet or weird. That was until he full on punched a kid and got in deep shit for it, but nobody picked on him again so Juwon called it a win.

He though british/western food was mostly bland but there was a certain elegance and comfort in its simplicity.

Did not go out often, and flat out refused to go to clubs.

He did apply for UK universities and did a year or two before going to the Korean Police Uni.

Did get into a good uni, like Russell group uni (maybe Oxford?), and yet didn’t get accommodation and simply got his own place instead (his hate of sharing things and richness coming into play). He also learnt to cook there.

His father never visited but did send money to the two of them, though Hyeok also got a job out there.

He does not have the best spice tolerance due to western food being… not that spicy.

He has an English name, but doesn’t like to use it unless he has to. He much prefers Juwon.

Has been asked out by a variety of people but turned everyone down as politely as possible (unless they were pushy then he got annoyed and was very bitchy about it). He has never been interested in anyone.

Has read every single sherlock holmes book in English and still has copies in his Seoul apartment.

The only jobs he had in England were from mandatory work experience. 

Despite not really being social, he did get to know a book store worker when he went to purchase something out of the classics section.

Yes he read classics and older literature, you’re gonna tell me he didn’t? But his guilty pleasure was fantasy books. He definitely read mostly in English (more accessible) but did pick up the odd Korean book too.

His notes for cases in korea are a mash of Korean and English, mostly just writing in whatever language flows out first. There’s not a lot of time to get them down and nobody else is gonna see them so he doesn’t care about it.

Feel free to drop your own thoughts and opinions and reminder that these are MY HEADCANONS and may not fully align with yours :)

[poppurini]

FIVE LOVE LANGUAGES ：with lilia ヾ( ˃o˂ )◞

note. doing all five for this man bc i’m greedy

wc. 1566﹐gn!reader mostly but fem!reader in one small part of a section ig? in giving gifts!

giving gifts — for some people, receiving / giving a heartfelt gift is what makes them feel most loved.

this one’s a given! he loves travelling, so he’ll definitely bring you lots and lots of souvenirs. i feel like lilia’s definitely the kind to give you rings / bracelets / necklaces stored with the sand from the beach you two went to or something similar teehee. the kind to randomly gift you something even when there’s no special occasion. “this reminds me of you” kind of bf <3 definitely remembers the things you like / your preferences to make you even happier!

i also think lilia would gift you handmade crafts! the moment he finds out there are such creative ways to express one’s love to another? oh boy, he’s purchasing all the colour papers, glue sticks, popsicle sticks, whatever! yknow those diy cube thingies that could be opened and pictures are stuck to each and every side? yeah those. he’ll definitely make it colourful and sparkly! maybe even a little messy / some errors here and there but it’s just so lilia to do that, one look at it and people can guess who it’s from. it’s definitely much more endearing than picture-perfect ones.

flowers flowers flowers! he never forgets them. you might even need to remind him that you’ve ran out of vases! i’ve said this so many times in my lilia posts but i will die on this hill he gives you flowers native to briar valley, his homeland. not to mention the scented letters written in perfect cursive? the poems? just him spilling out all his love for you on ink? search for the meaning of those flowers and you’ll run into his arms crying and peppering his face with kisses, swear.

also loves matching with you! matching keychains, bracelets, necklaces, anklets, phone cases, rings (wink), pretty much everything. will buy “she’s my queen” “he’s my king” neon coloured couple t-shirts, ironically or not it’s up to your sanity. he’ll also give you rocks he finds cool looking he’s so stupid (i want to exchange vows with him)

acts of service — for these people, actions speak louder than words. these are nice things you do for your partner that make them feel loved and appreciated.

he likes doing things for you. trouble with homework? let him help! going somewhere? let him fly you! oh, your laundry’s piling up…let him play his favourite horror movie on the tv first! wanna take a drink but too lazy to get up from the bed? fine, fine, but you gotta give him a kiss as a reward later, kay? even though he could just use magic to float it towards you, he just wants an excuse to steal kisses.

definitely offers to cook but who would want that. so he’ll try his best to assist you in the kitchen upon your orders! no five tablespoons of salt or frog slime in the soup? tsk. he does dishes most of the time since he’s not allowed to cook in your kitchen anymore :(

this sounds so unserious but it gets me on my knees. he orders food / inquires concerns—“they asked for no pickles” that kind—for you if you’re too scared or shy to do it. no i will not elaborate further. also very casually swipes a few tissues, grabs your jaw gently and wipes the crumbs at the corner of your mouth while continue to hum to your words. if you complain about how you were planning on doing it yourself later he just chuckles and gives your cheek a teasing pat. oh, just let him take care of you, would you? he doesn’t mind, you just keep taking about your day and tell him about the kitten you saw. taking care of others is one of his best feats!

quality time — this is all about giving the other person your undivided attention. they feel loved if you are present and focused on them when you are together.

he will always, and i mean always, make time for you. he’s already old and gets a wild card to do whatever he wants in his life so ofc he’d want to spend it all on you! especially if he had no choice but to put you second hundreds of years ago back when he had royal duties (if you guys are already together then) he’ll definitely make it up to you now.

i feel like lilia is HEAVY on quality time due to his race as a fae and former general status, he knows far too well how fleeting time can be and how much you could lose from it, so he really appreciates time with you no matter how it’s spent. even lazing on the couch and having simple cuddles would be enough to make his old heart melt! him lying stomach down in between your legs and resting his cheek on your stomach; just wrapping his arms around your figure and snuggling in, he’ll groan like he’s getting a professional full body massage when you play with his hair / massage his scalp.

but of course he still wishes to travel around the globe with you, his darling love. just think of the amount of things you two are going to experience! witnessing new cultures and sights, the inevitable small arguments during vacations, sliding the curtains open fully at the break of dawn to let the sun shine on your sleepy figure and hearing your groggy groans, catching the pillow you throw at him, they’ve got lilia’s heart thumping loudly in its cage.

psst, as a bonus, tell him you want attention while he’s gaming and he’ll immediately log out for you <3 eh, he can tackle this raid later. sorry user gloomurai!

words of affirmation — this language uses words to affirm other people. it’s about expressing affection through spoken words, praise, or appreciation.

SCREAMS TILL MY VOCAL CHORDS BREAK he has no qualms repeating his affection and admiration for you, especially if you’re someone who constantly craves it; he’ll gladly remind you every minute of the day. lilia would cradle you in his arms, humming a calm tune while caressing your skin and pressing chaste kisses to your forehead / hair every now and then.

pats your head reassuringly and lets you bury yourself into his shoulder / chest if you’re feeling particularly clingy that day; telling you how pretty you are, how cute you are, how your silly little jokes and laughs got him feeling like a schoolboy in love—“you know, like those, what do you call it? shoujo mangas?”—and how you got this legendary former war general completely wrapped around your finger.

i think there’s something so beautiful about one accepting your flaws and aiding you to solve the problem if it’s possible instead of just brushing you off by singing false praises…and that’s what my interpretation of lilia is. what’s that? you feel bad for being a “burden” and not good enough for him? nonsense. he loves you with his entire heart and soul, that also includes loving your flaws and helping you through it.

now, that doesn’t mean he thinks you’re a burden or unworthy of him, but he’ll find the root of the problem together with you to know why you feel this way so he could truly help you through it and make you feel better about yourself, it’s what you deserve. it really aches the man’s heart to hear you speak of yourself so negatively when all he thinks of you is everything good and butterflies in his stomach.

physical touch — to this person, nothing speaks more deeply than appropriate physical touch. they feel love through physical affection.

lilia loves having an arm around your waist, caressing it gently with his thumb while he nods and listens attentively to you talk about your day. he’ll gently brush a stray strand of hair out of the way or tuck it behind your ear to get a better view of your— what, you look better with your hair framing your face? wrong! you look good whenever and right now he wants to admire your pretty face with no obstacles in the way.

his hand, although small, is firm and heavy against yours. absolutely loves intertwining your fingers together and rubbing his thumb on your skin, he’ll kiss the inside of your wrist while looking into your eyes with a warm gaze, always the romantic.

one of the things that makes him absolutely go weak is you sitting on his lap!! probably likes you straddling him most because he gets to be closest with you that way. it isn’t even about being sensual he just adores holding your body close against his, melting into each other’s warm and secure embrace with no care in the world.

when you’re in this position, you’ll find him speaking in a softer tone, perhaps even a little deeper than his usual voice (see: general lilia times). maybe he’s doing it on purpose because he knows it flusters you or maybe he just feels safe and allows himself to be vulnerable around you. he’ll do reassuring caresses on your thighs, waist, or both; drawing random patterns and sometimes even telling you to guess them with a small chuckle.

he’s always holding you with such tender love and care it undoubtedly makes you melt each and every time, and he’s not even trying. his hold just harbours such genuine love and affection for you, it’s another way of exposing his feelings bare to you if he wasn’t speaking up about it already. he’d love to touch you at all times if possible, it’s a solid reminder that you’re still here, with him.

he cups your cheek benevolently with one hand, caressing the heated skin and giving chaste kisses to those lips he’s addicted to, murmuring promises and affection that holds true while the other hand wraps reassuringly, tightly, perhaps even desperately around your waist, he’s not going anywhere and neither are you.

written and posted by millie. copying, reposting, rewriting, or uploading on other platforms are strictly prohibited.