#there’s no harm in saying it aloud.

[usefulquotes7]

Compliment people. If you think a good thing about someone, there’s no harm in saying it aloud. Unknown

[kbwrites]

The Lord's Favorite CH.2

synopsis: "He was both a monstrous force of vengeance and your savior, intertwined in a tempest of passion and fury.."

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⚝content: trueform!Sukuna x fem! reader, slightly suggestive, mentions of blood and gore

⚝wc: 1.5k

⚝a/n: I'm still shocked this got as much attention as it did! Thank you for reading, I hope this next part pleases you.

“Please, do your best to remain still,” Uraume chides gently. They press the cotton swab soaked in alcohol to your face, the stinging sensation causing you to wince as it penetrates the cuts on your cheek. Uraume offers a sympathetic glance. “I apologize for this…”

“You don’t need to-“

“Please.” They say firmly “I was aware of the tension between the servants, I... never thought they would do something to harm one of their own.” Uraume’s voice wavers slightly. They move to the wounds on your arms.

The door to the chamber swings open, and Sukuna stands in the threshold, leaning one arm nonchalantly against the doorframe. He surveys your battered form sitting on the edge of the bed—a trace of annoyance etched on his face. Uraume rises swiftly to bow before the king, but he dismisses the gesture with a casual wave.

“My lord, I’ve treated her as best as I can.” Uraume reports.

Sukuna’s gaze shifts to your face, his demeanor cold yet betraying a hint of concern.

“Are you in any pain?”

“No.. my lord and I’m sorry-“

“You are not at fault.” He interrupts you, his voice firm as he strides over, his heavy footsteps echoing through the room. Clad in a black robe with a purple sash tied around the waist, his rippling muscles are visible through the cascading fabric. Uraume steps back, offering a brief bow before exiting, leaving you alone with him.

He scans your face with a piercing gaze, lowering himself to your level. His eyes drift to your empty wrist, narrowing with a mix of concern and intensity.

“Where. is it.” He demands. Your eyes widen as you realize the bracelet you were given today was missing.

“I… it must have fallen off when they attacked me” You piece together aloud. 

“So they would harm you as well as steal…” Ryomen’s voice grows taut with anger he clenches his fist, body tensing up. He rises from his kneeling position, figure looming over you.

“Are you able to stand?” He questions lowly. You nod.

“Good. We will be going now.”

You look up at your king, his expression is unreadable, but there’s an unmistakable intensity in his eyes—a silent promise of retribution. 

You lag behind him as he strides purposefully down the dimly lit  hallway. The evening light leaks through the dark red curtains of the hall, casting long shadows that dance along the walls. Each step of his echoes with a menacing authority. He stops abruptly at the entrance to the servants quarters. Sukuna looks over his shoulder at you, his gaze intense and unwavering.

“Do you wish to watch?” He inquires, voice low and steady.

“W…watch?” 

“Yes, do you wish to watch as I kill the ones who hurt you.”

“I—“ your heart races, Was this really happening? “No… my lord I do not.” You speak quietly. He raises an eyebrow but doesn’t respond, opening the door to the room.

The servants look upon him in reverence… or fear. Ryomen Sukuna did not bother himself with his servants, so seeing him generally meant bad news. He scans the room at the trembling help who shrink under his scrutiny, ‘utterly pathetic..’ he thinks. Their eyes drift to you, standing behind him. Ryomen shoots you a sidelong glance, awaiting you to point out your offenders. 

You look up at him, conflicted. Do you really wish for them to die? He scoffs as if reading your mind.

“You would protect them, even after what they did to you?” He sneers.

 He directs his attention back to the line of servants, all bowing their heads in fear. His gaze lands on one woman, and he notices the bracelet on her wrist—identical to the one he had painstakingly crafted for you.

At the sight of the bracelet, his demeanor changes abruptly. His expression darkens with a fierce intensity. With a swift motion, two of his arms encircle you, gently but firmly covering your eyes.

“Do not open them, until the screaming stops.”

Screams of horror reverberate through the room. You hear slashes mingling with the sound of Sukuna chuckling darkly. All the while two of his arms remains protectively around you, shielding you from the brutality he’s inflicting upon the ones who dared to harm you.

The screaming fades, his breathing slows, upper left arm lowers from your eyes.

“It is done.” And as your eyes slowly open, the sight before you is gut-wrenching. Blood and carnage litter the servant’s chambers. You clasp your hand  over your mouth as you fight back a gag. 

Ryomen looks at you, a hint of annoyance for your lack of appreciation. You gaze upon his bloodied form, he was covered in it. He wipes face, turning his back on the lifeless bodies.

“Let’s go; I require a bath and new clothes.”

You sit on the edge of the porcelain tub, adding oils and dried petals. The act of bathing Lord Sukuna had become quite routine. And yet every time he entered the room your heart would skip a beat. He stood at over six feet tall, his four muscular arms and broad, chiseled chest commanding attention. The tattoos that adorned his toned body only added to his already imposing presence.

He strides confidently over to the bath, crimson eyes never leaving yours. The scent of lavender and roses wafting through the tiled room. He lowers himself into the water, groaning as the hot water enveloped his powerful frame.

You grab a sponge, wiping the dried blood from his chest. Ryomen leans his head back against the edge of the tub, sighing in relief under your touch. He’s quiet for a moment, only the sound of the water sloshing around echoes throughout the room. One eye opens slightly to observe you, your gentle hands erasing the evidence of his carnage. Massaging away his stress and tension. He speaks in a low, commanding voice.

“Join me.”

You abruptly cease your movements, looking at him in disbelief.

“You mean—“

“In the tub, yes.” You hesitate, glancing nervously between him and the water. Knowing it was not wise to disobey your king, you begin to shed your clothing, covering yourself modestly as you allow the bathwater to cloak you. You settle on the opposite side of the tub, his eyebrow quirks in mild annoyance.

“I will not harm you.” His voice almost… gentle.

You move closer to him. Albeit too slow for his taste, one arm pulls you towards his chest, settling on the small of your back. The unprecedented position of intimacy with your lord both thrilling and unsettling.

“Are you… unhappy with my actions today?”

"No… my lord." It was partly true. You were still reeling from the events that had transpired. The king to whom you had dutifully bowed had unleashed his fury... for you? The man you willingly served, had been so enraged by your injuries that he had taken the lives of those who wronged you. He was both a monstrous force of vengeance and your savior, intertwined in a tempest of passion and fury..

“Good.” Another hand reaches to stroke your hair, a touch so feather light you wondered if he thought you’d break. “I… do not wish for you to be unhappy.” He speaks softly. His finger traces your jawline. You shiver under his touch, but don’t pull away. If your heart were to beat any faster you feared it might give out altogether.  His hand trails down to your chest, placing his palm flat against the valley between your breasts.

“Your heart is racing…Are you frightened of me?” He questioned, feeling the rhythm quicken beneath his touch.

“F…frightened?” You try to keep your voice from shaking, but it betrays you quivering with uncertainty.

“It is understandable; I could kill you right now.” He grins as his words make your heart beat even faster. “I am merely stating a fact. Do not think of it.” His gaze travels from your face to your chest, lingering at the point where the water begins.

He stands up, water dripping down his body, your gaze travels down his abs to his v-line. He only grins as he sees your curious eyes widen at his lower half. It was quite hard not to look when he was so… big. The screams from his bedroom made sense after you were called to his bath the first time. 

“You are permitted to touch.” He declares, snapping your out of your daze, a shaky hand comes up to feel his abs. He groans softly under your nimble fingers, feeling his muscles tighten in response. He was a work of art, as if the gods themselves sculpted his figure.

You knew that after his bath, Lord Sukuna would typically summon one of his concubines to his chambers. This would inevitably result in several hours of indecorous moans and pained screams, audible through the door connecting your room to his. As his servant, you wanted to adhere to your place, but a part of you couldn't help but wonder... what it would be like to bask in your lord’s presence in such an intimate way.

“My lord, shall I summon someone to… attend to your needs?” 

He only chuckles darkly, one arm reaching down to gentle cup your face. His crimson eyes feasting upon your wet, naked form committing this scene to memory.

“No need,” He murmurs, his voice deep and resonant.

 “I believe your presence is precisely what I crave.”

taglist! (I know a lot a people in the previous post asked for a part two but idk if that meant you wanted to be tagged, lmk!) @haruchi-slit @gg-trini @pastelbunnelby @cauqhtz @shadava

[blkkizzat]

PU$$Y GOT MORE M⛧RDERS THAN SHIBUYA.ᐟ 𝐌⛧𝐑𝐃𝐄𝐑#𝟓 — 𝐆𝐞𝐭𝐨, 𝐒𝐮𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐮

⛧ 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡: nov 19th 8:52pm ⛧ 𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡: onsen + dubcon + coercion + fingering + riding + mating press + bath sex + breeding + sassy!reader ⛧ 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐬: 5751

𝐧𝐧𝐧 𝐦.𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Suguru reclines against the edge of the onsen, arms stretched lazily along the stone. Steam curls around him in languid waves, the mineral-rich bath soothes his bones but does absolutely nothing for the ache between his muscular thighs. The weight of his erection, stiff and heavy, anchors against the flat planes of his stomach—a silent testament to the tension that even the warm waters cannot wash away.

19 days.

It’s been 19 days since the start of 'No Nut November'—an ordeal that began with your unwelcomed and completely unsolicited suggestion during a meeting with Suguru's top benefactors.

The meetings with these so-called patrons, eager for a taste of pseudo-importance in his cult, were just another way Suguru expertly exploits their inflated sense of superiority to pull them, and their bank accounts, deeper into his web of indoctrination. Growing irritated at the mere memory, Suguru’s muscles tense up as if the onsen’s warmth had never touched him. Normally his secretary, Manami, would sit-in to take notes during these meetings, but with more pressing matters elsewhere, she had sent you in her place.

You were the newest member of Suguru’s sorcerer family—a position you accepted, albeit reluctantly, thanks to a recommendation from your long-time friend, Manami herself. Still, Suguru isn't blind.

He knows you didn't join out of loyalty nor conviction—you needed protection.

Aligning yourself with Suguru’s cause was a way to escape Jujutsu Society’s relentless pursuit. They were hunting you for your various crimes as well, and being under Suguru’s protection offered you a chance to survive.

And yet, the subtle side-eyes you throw his way, the faint twitches at the corners of your mouth, the tiny snorts that you so skillfully turned into sneezes at his various words or proclamations—they spoke volumes. 

You thought he was full of shit.

Not exclusive to just his cult either—his entire ideology.

Although, you never openly defied nor disrespected him.

On the contrary, your behavior was impeccable surface wise.

Anyone if asked would say you were a sweet yet quiet girl who showed Suguru the utmost reverence in your mannerisms and diligently carried out every task assigned to you. 

Your rebellious yet inconspicuous expressions of skepticism were too minor for others to notice in order for him to justify any kind of punishment. Not to mention your babydoll-like mannerisms that made you look even more like the picture of innocence. Your rap sheet as a cursed user was the only sign anyone would ever have of your deviant ways and yet with just a bat of your eyes you'd be able convince anyone you were the one wrongly persecuted. No, Suguru he couldn't risk openly punishing you for no reason lest he be seen as a hypocrite in front of his newly made family. After all, he had vowed to do no harm to fellow sorcerers not standing in his way.

Besides, even if you didn't approve, you also weren't a hindrance to him—you were an asset.

Nevertheless, there was still a lingering air of smugness about you that irked, crawling under Suguru's skin like a parasyte. A secretive defiance against him, like you thought you were somehow above him because you deemed yourself more intelligent.

Your attitude combined with your charms reminded Suguru far too much of Satoru—a resemblance he would never admit aloud, but unfortunately, couldn’t ignore.

As a result, Suguru tended to avoid you. The quiet challenge you presented unsettled him—a subtle reminder of unresolved feelings toward his old friend-turned-foe. It was easier to sidestep you altogether, a pacifist approach to maintain his sanity and preserve his standing among his cursed user peers.

However, your filling in for Manami had been unavoidable on such short notice. And as Suguru expected, you seized the opportunity to mock him under a carefully crafted guise of loyalty.

With all the false earnestness your doe eyes could muster, you offered an insightful suggestion during the meeting—a so-called new way to bring his followers deeper into the fold and reveal the most worthy of his believers.

You proclaimed only Suguru’s most devout and faithful followers could perfectly embody the spirit of his cause and to prove their honor, they should adopt an ancient Roman warrior tradition—

—the practice of 'et non nux novem'—a month of silence, meditation, prayer, and of course—

abstinence.

All in honor of the gods—or, in this case, their fearless god-like leader Suguru.

Needless to say, the pompous dumbass monkeys in the room eagerly lapped up your grandiose words. You, the forked-tongue tempress, worked your soft-feminine charms to the point they were eating out of your palm.

These so-called 'elites' of Tokyo might have had wealth and status, but wisdom and worldliness?

Clearly lacking.

Otherwise, they wouldn’t have fallen into a cult in the first place, let alone been fooled by a dead language none of them could even understand.

None of them were versed in latin, that is, except Suguru.

Like a single spark on dry brush the idea of ‘et non nux novem’ spread like wildfire and every single monkey follower in his cult wanted to show themselves as worthy by participating.

While you were praised for your faithfulness to the cause, Suguru found himself trapped. Forced to participate in this charade to set an example of solidarity and faith. And while Suguru could handle many things, losing wasn’t one of them. What infuriated him even more was the way you’d turned his cult against him, audaciously meeting his bullshit with your own.

For the first-time since the start of his cult someone had checkmated him.

Not to mention, you’d effectively cucked him, and you knew it—the small, self-satisfied smile on your plump lips every time you'd seen him this month said as much. Every tiny gesture of yours Suguru scrutinized and deemed to be in mock of him. Even the quick flick of your moist, pink tongue to wet your dry lips felt like a deliberate taunt.

The sight would send a visceral rage through Suguru who'd immediately take his leave.

But as the month wore on, those feelings morphed into something darker, invading his thoughts in more scandalously salacious ways. What used to be him envisioning him ripping your insolent tongue right out of your mouth, Suguru found himself wondering how your lips might feel wrapped around his cock, putting your mischievous lil' tongue to better uses.

You were too smart, too sassy, too sexy—and far too much like Satoru.

A dangerous combination that gnawed at Suguru's sensibilities, especially when every throb of his unattended member reminded him that you were the cause. It was more than he could bear—so, Suguru resolved to even the score. 

You had to be dealt with lest you destroy him entirely.

Should be any minute now.This particular bathhouse on the compound was for sorcerers only and every member of his family had a scheduled time to use it.

Of course this just so happened to be your hour to bathe.

*CREEEAK*

Like clockwork you enter the onsen, sliding open the heavy wooden door and entering the bath.

Obscuring your vision, steam rises in soft clouds, condensing on the wooden ceiling and blurring the perimeter of the bath, not allowing you to see that it was already occupied.

Thinking nothing is amiss, you walk in completely bare with your tenugui towel draped over your arm. It’s not until you tentatively dip a toe into the water that Suguru clears his throat. "Ahem..."

The sudden sound startles you, and you trip, tumbling into the water with an ungraceful splash. Between the thick steam and the complete suppression of his cursed energy, you hadn’t seen Suguru at all—he caught you entirely off guard.

Drenched and gasping as you emerge to the surface, the presence of Suguru’s overwhelming cursed energy hits you all at once. It fills the room like a crushing wave, and you can’t stop the instinctual tremors that send ripples spreading through the water around you.

“G-Geto-sama!?”

Your entire body flushes with heat and as much as every nerve is screaming at you to flee, the quickest way to cover your nakedness was remain in the onsen.

Shit, did the bath schedules change and you had no idea?!

The urgency in which you practically dove back under the water, only the tip of your nose visible has Suguru chuckling.

“Now, now, you can cut the shy act, princess. There's no one for you to perform for here—tsk, a devious brat like you couldn’t possibly be so flighty.”

Glaring at him through the steamy mist, your cheeks burn with a mix of irritation and embarrassment. Insults and pet names swirl in your head as you try to take stock of your current predicament, searching for some semblance of composure.

But it’s impossible to ignore the weight of his gaze. You can feel it—piercing through the obscuring vapors and the milky mineral water as if they weren't even there.

“Hah?... m’not shy— or flighty for that matter! You just scared me a bit is all—I didn't think I'd have to be on my guard in the onsen!”

In an act of defiance you sit up fully and remove your arms covering your chest. Your buoyant breasts rise to float in the water as you attempt to stop your fidgeting.

Suguru hums.

You can't see but you can feel his expression turn darker through the haze as if he is pleased he unsettles you so much.

“We're preparing for war, princess—you should always be on guard."

Suguru scolds you playfully, though the patronizing edge lingers like a teasing blade.

"Even from you?" Testing him, you slowly build your nerve back with the challenging question, his cockiness getting under your skin as it always does.

"In your case? Especially from me."

Suguru’s rich, sexy baritone drips with intent, sending chills racing down your spine and pooling deep in your core. Despite the soothing warmth of the onsen enveloping you,you are desperately on edge.

Never in your dreams did you think your casual teasing of him would ever push him this far. Even so, you can't bite back the sass that spills from your lips.

"So you admit you're a fraud? The self-proclaimed sorcerer messiah?"

The energy around Suguru crackles, and your sharp, audible breath betrays your shock. Suguru strains as he struggles to maintain his calm and keep the upper hand, the heat of his anger brewing through the water. Yet the power radiating from him is unmistakable—a silent warning that he’ll take control, one way or another.

"You came here for my protection, yet you more than anyone are most liable to undermine me. Your duplicitous nature could shift against my favor at any moment. If I didn't know better I'd think he'd sent you to mock me... ”

Your face frowns in confusion, unsure of who Suguru is referring to but you are left no time to ponder as he continues.

"Now come here brat, tell me why I shouldn't cast you out—hand you right over to the higher ups and be rid of you for good."

You freeze, chewing the inside of your cheek as you debate whether you should actually run. Suguru was no rat, you knew he wouldn't turn you in. Cast you out to fend for yourself? Perhaps. Deep down though, you know you wouldn’t get far if he decides to catch you so you remain. The cracks in Suguru’s easy going demeanor—the one he carefully maintains for his sorcerer family—are starting to show.

Revealing just how fucking intense Suguru really is underneath it all.

“—I said come here. Or if you’re scared you can flee, little dove—flee this bath, my cult—and my protection for good.”

The timber in Suguru’s voice makes your nostrils flare, a reaction he anticipated all too well. He knows you’ll play right into his hands—escape was never truly an option. Reverse psychology was his favorite tool against pride as childish as yours, just as it always worked with Satoru. So, of course you take the bait despite yourself.

Although you knew you should fear him—that you were gambling at a game far above your metaphorical buy-in—the thrill of it was too intoxicating to resist. The feeling akin to standing at the edge of a cliff, fully aware of the drop but unable to step back as the wind whips around you inching you forward.

Swallowing hard, you rise to your feet, forcing yourself to keep your hands steady at your sides. Every nerve in your body screams at you to look away, to break the tension, but you don’t. Instead, you move toward Suguru, your own steady gaze locked on his, refusing to flinch.

Approaching him, with each step closer, more of Suguru is revealed to you.

Your eyes shamelessly drink him in, unable to resist the temptation the cult leader, known as Geto Suguru exudes. Water droplets glide down his sculpted pecs, trailing over his abs and glistening off the sinewy muscles of his arms. Like a siren from mythology, Suguru’s slicked-back inky hair cascades over his broad, chiseled shoulders, pooling into the water around him, each strand seeming almost alive with its own allure.

There's no big mystery why he had so many people throwing themselves at his feet.

You blink hard, shaking yourself free from the allure of the beautiful siren-like man before you. 

No, you’d never be one of them…right?

Your distracted thoughts keep you from noticing but Suguru is equally captivated by you. His predatory eyes sweep over your body, as if cataloging every detail of your curves to memory. You're sexier than he imagined under those sweaters you'd wear, hiding your perfect form from him. His cock pulses impatiently beneath the onsen waters, betraying his eagerness. 

Suguru was secretly relieved you couldn’t see just how badly he wanted you at this moment—how badly he’d wanted you all month, for that matter. He’d gone through every stage of denial, convincing himself it was nothing—that you were nothing, before finally admitting the truth.

And now that he had successfully snared you he wasn’t going to deprive himself of you any longer.

“Stop there.” 

Suguru’s commands are smooth and unwavering.

“Stand here.”

The spot he indicates is directly between his legs.

You swallow hard. 

With your towel gone and the water receding in the shallow area of the onsen where he sits, your bare pussy is now at eye level with Suguru. His piercing scrutiny makes it impossible to remain still, every nerve in your body on alert. The longer he stares, lecherous and hungry, as if he might devour you whole, the quicker your breath hitches.

Your embarrassment slowly gives way to a simmering arousal you can’t control despite your growing annoyance for this man.

Suguru didn’t have to reach far at all to touch you and soon his fingers trailed featherlight touches up your inner thighs, sending tingles straight into your dripping pussy as you tried to remain still and pretend it's the water from the onsen and not from your cunt glistening on your thighs.

Like Suguru already knows how wet you are for him, his lustful gaze intensifies, smirk carving deeper into his features like a predator savoring its prey.

“This 'et non nux novem' is complete bullshit. You know it, like I know it." The sensation of your soft, wet flesh beneath his fingertips has a fresh surge of heat coursing through him.

"But since we're the only two who know the truth and you wish to stay under my protection, you’ll just have to take responsibility for the rest of the month—can you do that?”

You're breathless from his touch continuing to explore around your hips and upper thighs. Trying to resist leaning into his touch your words are clumsy as they spill out of you.

“Mmm…w-what about maintaining s-s-solidarity?” 

Suguru brings you in, muscular arms wrapping around your waist deviously.

“Fuck solidarity, princess.”

You’d think you'd giggle at that if he hadn’t just murmured those words into your tummy. Suguru's warm breath dips into your navel and your tummy contracts—jailed in his strong grasp there is no running away from him now.

Yet his smooth words continue, as if he fully expects your obedient compliance.

“Will you be my devout, good lil' slut then, hm?”

You chewed your inner cheek. 

Suguru’s attractiveness was never lost on you, but you saw him as an arrogant asshole who'd on top of that forever seems so distant. Plus, he always seemed irritated by your presence which is why you'd started the prank in the first place.

All of this only made his sudden attention now even more disarming. 

You look away, shrugging your shoulders in an attempt to mask your flushed expression. The gesture, meant to appear casual, only makes you seem shyer and more vulnerable, offering him an even softer view of you. You know you need to pull it together, but your bravado is slipping, painfully exposing your awkwardness as you grow increasingly pliable under his touch.

“Hm, does this bratty princess pussy think she's too good to serve?”

A startled squeak escapes you as Suguru’s hands resume their practiced exploration of your body. Agile fingers find your breasts as Suguru pinches your hardened nipples, rolling and pulling your sensitive buds firmly. The motions are like a silent punishment for the answer you haven’t even given yet—delivering molten pleasure to burn in your core.

“Answer me, slutty girl before I finally lose my patience with you.”

Suguru's fingers trace their descent back down your body to spread greedily over the soft curve of your ass. A sharp crack follows as his hand lands on your dampened skin, the sting radiating through you and snapping your gaze back to meet his. You whimper, the sound pitiful and almost apologetic, as his fingers knead and caress the tender flesh in the aftermath, leaving you trembling. Every touch is a reminder that you belong to him—every inch of you subject to the pleasure and pain he so expertly delivers.

“I-I'm not your s-servant...”

You weren’t convincing at all and the sight of your luscious body quivering in his hands has Suguru all the more eager to have you submit to him—to have you utterly threadbare and unraveling before him.

"Eh, are you not though?"

Expression darkened with intent, Suguru face is mere centimeters from your core as he inhales the intoxicating, sweet scent of your dewy pussy. His sultry eyes lock with yours looking up at you as if asking for your consent, your admission of desperation—your absolute obedience.

"Would you want to be?"

Fuck, the man was too deviously sexy to resist.The debauched scene made your entire body shudder, a needy moan falling from your lips as you instinctively angle your hips toward his hot awaiting mouth.

“...hnn—p-pleaseee, G-Geto-sama.”

However, just as you were certain he’d taste you, Suguru pulls back. His pretty, thin lips parting only to curl into a taunting smile.

“Oh? Now she begs. No, only my good, devout slut gets my mouth, princess. You'll have to do better than that if you want it.” 

Your face crumples but all thoughts of protest vanish the moment the pads of his fingers brush lightly across your clit, now engorged and peaking through your folds. Working your tingly nub in slow, agonizing circles with his knuckles, while his thumb mirrored the rhythm against your hip. 

The dual sensations has your thighs quivering, as delicate mewls spill from your lips uncontrollably—a clear sign to Suguru that it's been far too long since you’ve had a proper fuck.

“So sensitive… so responsive for a slut claiming not to be my servant.” 

Suguru’s whole demeanor is voice saturated with amusement, but you felt so good and he looks so sinfully erotic with his hand in your folds, you don’t even care now that he is toying with you. 

“You’ve been non nux for a long while now, haven’t you, princess? Wanting the rest of us to suffer with you, hm?”

You hated his smug ass but you let out an affirmative sigh despite yourself, drawing a chuckle from him.

Suguru sees it immediately—the way your body shakes, touch-starved and desperate for the attention he’s lavishing on you. His long finger glides through your slick, webbing the gossamer of your arousal against his thumb before sinking it into your pussy with deliberate precision.

Honeyed in your creamy nectar, his thick digit tows through every inch of your pretty peach.

“So fucking wet for me…this is why you wanted my attention, isn't that right, brat?”

Suguru slips a second long finger into your gooey core, the stretch immediately overwhelming—his one finger easily the size of two of yours. But you’re too lost in your own loud moans to notice Suguru’s low hiss, he's utterly caught off guard by the way your walls clamp down on him so fiercely.

Driving into your slick gummy walls harder and faster your cunt eagerly slobbers around his fingers as they reach into the very depths of your core—now zoning in on the firm, spongy spot within you.

Desperately, you fall forward and your pretty manicured nails puncture his shoulder as a third finger enters you.

Suguru typically doesn’t let anyone touch him so freely—yet he can’t bring himself to push you away. Watching you struggle to hold yourself together only made him more determined to break you completely, now with his fingers—then with his cock.

Resolved, Suguru hooks your leg over his other shoulder, forcing your body to open to him. Leaning-in Suguru gifts you steady, sloppy kisses up your inner thigh, stopping occasionally to languidly suction your plump flesh enough to leave a bruise—all in sharp contrast to the furious pace of his fingers pumping inside your dripping cunt.

Too skilled at siphoning out your juices, your creamy wetness slicks down his entire forearm to his elbow and then into the onsen as he works you over.

“Shiiiit—Geto-sa—MAAAH!”

Your free hand instinctively dives into his hair, tugging at his long raven strands at his scalp. Suguru’s eyes flare and he growls a warning in his throat at your audacity. But it's all easily forgiven, as you so beautifully slutted out before him—your head thrown back, eyes squeezed shut as your serpentine hips meet the urgent plunge of his fingers grazing your womb.

Picking up his pace, Suguru’s fingers move deeper and faster. Your cries grow louder, unrestrained, your tongue hanging out as a strange immeasurable pressure builds under your tummy.

“NNNNGHH...m’no moreee—stawp—m’gonna pee in the onsennnn, pleaseeepleaseee!” 

Your voice is distraught but your nails dig deeper into the flesh of his scalp and shoulder and your hips never stop rolling to meet his fingers.

What a perfect whore you’ve become for him. 

“Tsk, silly slut—don't you know that's not pee princess? So don’t you dare hold back—show me how dirty this pretty lil' pussy can get grasping onto me like she's worshiping my fingers..."

Suguru sinks his teeth into the thick meat of your thigh, the bite leaving deep impressions in your soft tender flesh. The overwhelming buzz of opposing sensations is blinding to the point you’re soon spraying milky fluids all over his arms, chest and face.

Your eyes lodge into your skull as your orgasm peaks and crashes over you. Buckling forward as your legs become goo, yet Suguru's grip on you is steady as he pulls his fingers from your still spasming pussy. Without hesitation Suguru licks them clean, savoring the remnants of your release on them—it's a pity so much of it ended up in the onsen and not in his mouth.

Fuck— you’re so sweet on his tongue Suguru regretted not tasting you fully and robbing himself of your flavor. He had half the mind to feast on you now but the incessant throbbing of his long ignored cock needed to be dealt with first.

Wrecked from his fingers alone, your mind is hazy as the lingering pleasure clouds your thoughts. You barely register Suguru’s movements as he guides your body—lowering you until your soft tits press firmly against his hard chest. Your knees settle on either side of his thighs, framing him as he swallows your plump hips in his large grip under the warm bath water.

“Breathe.” 

Suguru murmurs softly into your temple, his voice deep and commanding, yet the instruction doesn't reach you in your dazed state. It’s not until the bulbous head of his cock pushes its way past your folds that the meaning sinks in—just as he thrusts upward, seating you completely onto him in one swift motion.

Immediately your body shudders, stretched and filled to the hilt. Every inch of Suguru bullies its way into your guts, shifting them forcibly creating space for his girthy intrusion.

You're completely at his mercy.

Simultaneously your voice croaks while Suguru releases a loud groan—fuck you're tight. Even with his preparation, the sheer size of him tearing through your walls has you clenching like a vice. Wrapping your trembling arms around his neck, you struggle to breathe, the sensation so intense it’s as if he’s actually breached your womb.

The heat inside you soon burns hotter than the onsen's steaming waters, and Suguru swears under his breath trying not to cum from how tightly your cunt is strangling his cock. Suguru figures he’s the biggest you’d ever taken but you’d surely melt his dick off if you didn’t ease up.

You hiccup, tears streaking your puffy cheeks as his large palm rubs soothing circles on your lower back, the other guiding you up and down his thick shaft in slow, deliberate movements. The blend of pain and pleasure blurs together, overwhelming your senses. 

“NGHHH, too m-much, S-Sugu—so deep!”

Babbling into the crook of his neck, your voice cracks as you plead with him.

“Come on, princess…” 

Suguru softly chuckles, but when your sobs turn into full-body tremors, your nails digging into his back with desperate intensity, he pauses.

Gently pulling you from his neck, Suguru examines the flush spreading across your body. The heat from the water and Suguru become too much and you can barely keep your head up as it rolls back from dizziness, your consciousness fading.

Suguru sighs, brushing damp hair from your face.

“What’s wrong, brat? You’re shaking and clenching like some—” 

Suguru stops mid-sentence as realization strikes. Your shyness, your sensitivity, hell even the awkward veil of confidence that was quickly revealed as soon as he pulled your card a lil.

Gripping your face, you wince as his sharp gaze locks on yours. 

“Answer me truthfully, girl— are you a virgin?”

“...n-not anymore.” 

Although weakened, your voice is still laced with a trace of attitude that makes Suguru snort despite himself.

Fuck. He should’ve known. 

As troublesome as you are, he’d pegged you for a slut. Instead, you were an innocent dove—still troublesome, but innocent nonetheless.

With a quiet curse, Suguru pulls out of you and the water in one fluid motion. Droplets cascade off your bodies as he gently lays you onto the warmed stone floor beside the onsen.

Grabbing a cool cloth from a nearby bucket, he dabs your forehead, then across the rest of your body to cool you. A soft sigh escapes you as the chill seeps into your heated skin, soothing the burn of exertion.

When he wipes the rest of your body, his gaze catches on the streaks of red staining his cock and your thighs. A flicker of guilt flashes across his face, and he silently berates himself. Had he known, he would’ve approached this with a bit more tact.

Yet when your trembling hand grabs his bicep, vulnerable and pleading, his control crumbles.

“N-No, no, p-please… d-don’t stop now…” Voice breaking, as it stammers under the weight of your desperation.

You’re sore, yes, but the emptiness between your legs burns hotter, the ache of arousal far outweighing any lingering discomfort now that the rest of your body has cooled from the bath.

Suguru’s lips curl into a slanted, tight-eyed grin.

So you did want to be corrupted by him after all?

He could oblige you in that.

Wasting no time, Suguru is hovering over you. Sinking back into your heat with care, you feel every thick, veined inch stretching you open, plunging so deep it sets your walls ablaze.

Your head tilts back as your spine arches, and a sudden gush of slick erupts from your pussy, heavy and uncontrollable. The rush of fluids splashes between you, nearly forcing Suguru’s cock out as your walls quake violently around him. He growls, bracing you against the floor to steady your trembling body.

Broken whines spill from your lips from Suguru wrapping a hand possessively around your throat, his grip grounding you as his arrogance seeps through in a low, rumbling chuckle against your ear.

“Shit princess—you’re squirting like a goddamn faucet on my cock—wetter than the onsen. Can’t even take a lil’ dick without soaking us both? What a slutty virgin...”

The deep vibrations of his words ripple down your spine, intensifying the way your pussy clenches around his cock. Your legs wrap tighter around his waist, heels digging into his hips in a desperate attempt to keep him buried deep inside you.

However, Suguru doesn’t allow it for long. With a deliberate shift, he changes positions—he hooks his arms under your knees, folding you in half as he presses them to your shoulders. The new angle draws a whimper from your lips, allowing him to go much deeper as he drags the ridges of his girth along your walls, savoring every inch of your snug fluttering cunt.

Stuffed full of him again, Suguru moves in measured strokes. The initial sting of his size gradually melts into a searing arousal, coiling deep in your belly when Suguru flicks figure 8 circles on your clit.

"Don't run from it princess...." Suguru coos a warning to you when your small hands slip over his abs to slow the pace of his hips. Your cute face scrunches up, fueling his hunger for you.

Yet it's the moment your hips start to squirm uncoordinatedly, desperate to meet his rhythm, he knows you’ve adjusted.

That’s when Suguru really lets go. 

His cock slams into you with relentless force and leaves you clinging to him for dear life while your screams echoing throughout the bathhouse. Suguru doesn't care if anyone outside can hear, if anything he wants them to, it be a lewd testament to how good he was fucking you.

The feral slaps of his balls against your ass also grow louder as his pace quickens, grinding his hip into you harder, deeper, and more wildly with every thrust. The raw, primal sound of your bodies colliding fills the air, matched only by your shared moans and the filthy, wet squelches of your cunt greedily pulling him in and forming a creamy ring around his base.

“HNNNG—AH! Feels s’gud, c-cock s’gud, pleasepleaseplease fuckmefuckmefuckme, Sugu!”

Suguru’s hips stutter for a brief second, your voice is raw with need as you coo his name. Your inexperienced virgin pussy having the gall to give him any demands like he's the one submitting to you.

How did it end up like this?

“Am I not fucking you, slutty brat?!” 

Irritation rumbles deep in Suguru’s chest, more at himself than at you. The intense urge to please you grates against his belief that, as his follower, it is you who should be working to satisfy him. Yet his body betrays him, his loins burning with the undeniable truth that he's addicted to you now. Picking up inhuman speed, sweat dripping off his brow, Suguru drills into you, determined to coax more of your silky squirt from your body.

“OOO—OH FUUUU—CK! Y-Yessss, Geto-samaaaah!”

The glare Suguru gives you is piercing as his hand leaves your clit and weaves around your throat in an instant.

“Don’t you dare. Don’t you dare call me that when you’re moaning under me like a whore and commanding me to fuck you.” 

Bullying into you harder, your back arches off the stone floor as pure euphoria floods your senses.

“It's Suguru to you when I'm fucking you dumb, princess." You nod your head frantically, nails raking welts along his back. "If you understand, then say it—you had enough audacity to use it once before—now I want my slutty brat to moan it for me loud enough for every monkey in this compound to know you’re my whore.”

Screaming it like a mantra as you cum again once more splashing squirt and fluids that gather into a puddle on the stone beneath you, flowing back into the onsen.

Hearing his name leave your lips so desperately has Suguru releasing buckets inside you—an ungodly amount of cum spurting into your abused lil' cunt. The obscene sound of it bubbling and spilling out accompanies each additional plow of his hips, on a mission to bury as much of it inside you as possible.

The heat, the overwhelming fullness—it leaves your body shuddering, your limbs weak and boneless against him as he uses you like a fleshlight riding out his remaining waves.

You are unsure how long you laid there with him collapsed on top of you but as the fog of euphoria begins to dissipate, your pussy aching, you glance up to find Suguru staring down at you.

His expression is smug, victorious, as if he’d claimed some grand prize and you pout.

Your plan to cuck Suguru for an entire month failed spectacularly!

Suguru doesn't need to say anything as the loss is written all over your face. Yet he still rubs it in a bit more with a chaste kiss placed delicately on your cute pouty lips. 

“I-I still think you’re full of shit y-you know, Sugu.”

You exhale a shaky breath of defeat, your voice raspy and chest rising and falling in uneven puffs.

Sucking his teeth in amusement, Suguru’s smirk hasn’t left him yet.

“Yeah, and now you’re full of me—funny how life comes at you fast, huh princess?”

Your scoffs quickly turn into soft goans as Suguru presses down on your belly. The pressure on your womb makes you squirm beneath him as your cunt squelches out more of his cum, unintentionally making him hard inside you again with the urge to fill you until you are walking out of her limping and leaking his cum in puddles.

“Hm, now my devout lil' slut—shall I continue to breed your bratty not-so virgin pussy in honor of ‘et non nux novem’?”

blkkizzat ©2023-2024 no ai, reposting, plagiarism nor translation allowed.

𝐚/𝐧: next non-queued post (comment on m.list for tag) nanami, kento

okay i gotta say i ate this. had to even stop a few times and calm myself down while i was editing this thats why this was so delayed lol. reblog and comment please if this also took yall places dkjcajndkjsh

[hoshigray]

꯳⃘꤫⃛✿ contents: Gojo x afab/fem! reader - explicit content; minors DNI - modern au! gym friends - oral (f! + m! receving) - clitoral play (licking + sucking) - boobjob - prone bone position - unprotected sex - creampies - pet names (angel, baby, princess, sweetie) - gojo is a perv, ngl - pussywhipped + whiny! gojo - mention of sweat and drool/spit.

Been going to the gym lately and can’t stop thinking about gym friend! Gojo, who indisputably has a massive crush on you. 

Why else would he drag you in to do something that he loves to do? To share the same interests as his POI? To see you all the time? His reasons could be endless; however, those exact reasons seem to be doing more harm than good as his eyes can’t stop watching your body move on the elliptical, the sweat on your body shimmering on your gorgeous skin, or the positions you do as you stretch. All it does is add more fuel to the erotic thoughts that gnaw his heart out the more his azure orbs gawk at you. 

“Ahaahhn!! S-Satoru, don’t lick so fa—Mmm!—Fffuuuhuuck!!”

Or stir up more guilty fantasies for his perverted brain to think about.

On his life, Gojo wishes he’d snatch you off your feet and take you to the locker rooms to devour you utterly. If he has to look at your ass shielded under those leggings one more time, he will rip them off the seams and stuff his face into your panties. And he knows you’d make the cutest sounds as he does so, shrilling up above with hands grabbing tuffs of his silver snow hair while his teeth tug your panties to the side and latch your folds to his mouth. 

You looked way too good not to do so! He would have you hunched on the locker room bench, your knees to your chest, while his tongue ravishes your labia and eats you out. Jesus, your taste is intoxicating enough for his head to pound, spiraling the muscle to every cranny of the orifice to drink your fluids. “Holy fuck, so good…”

“‘Toruuu, waait!!” You plead with teary eyes, unsuccessful attempts to escape the tall man’s hold. “You’re going too fassst. Please…! Slow do—Oohoo!”

“No can do, baby~,” he’d lift his face and reveal his chin, just drenched with your essence mixed with his spit, before placing his tongue back to lap around your clitoris. “You said you’d cum for me three times, remember? Can’t just stop with one!”

“Bu-But…! I cannn’t, I’m too sweaty—“ you hasped aloud at the suck of your clit, Gojo letting his tongue run wild by licking and pressing on the pearl feverishly before sucking it in again. “—Tahaaa…!! Stop, stop! Let me shower firsst!!”

“C’mon, angel,” he kisses your vulva idly, enjoying the shudder of your thighs. “We can shower plenty together right after this, ‘kay? So, just keep cumming on my tongue for me, yeah?”

It doesn’t stop there. Because what’s hidden under your pants isn’t the only thing that drives him crazy — your cleavage peaking from your sports bras will always have him in a chokehold, the sweat shimmering across your attractive skin…All it needs is for his cock to be stuffed inside.

Oh fuck, it’s insane to even think about! Those lovely tits of yours giving his aching cock the time of its life has shivers crawling up his spine. That’s a sight that he’d store in his memory forever, watching his dick be swallowed up by the understrap of your bra and into the warmth of your chest. Fuck—he can’t think of anything better!

“Gosh, Satoru,” you’d look at him with a hooded gaze and smile while your hands press on your breasts to push together and trap his erection. The plush sensation makes Gojo’s hips buck, and you giggle. “What am I going to do with you? I can’t even work out in peace without you eyeing up my tits. Hmm, what do you have to say about that?”

“Hahhh…ahaaa, shit, I can’t—“ Gojo bites his lip at the display of your chest motioning up and down, his cock gliding in between your soft mounds making his eye twitch.

“Oh? Do you like watching my tits?” You inquire with a playful glint in your eyes, blowing on the pink tip to make the man moan. Precum trickles down your chest and joins the excess fluid that pools down to your bra and his sticky pelvis. “Does my pervert friend like my tits so much he wants to stuff his dick inside and make them dirty like him?”

“Fucking shit, yesss,” he throws his head back, his thighs trembling. “Yes, I love those cute tits like crazy.”

“Really?” You bat your eyes — holy hell, you were too much for him. “Would you like to cum on them again? Tell me, tell your gym partner how much you wanna stain these precious boobs you love so much.” You tease the cockhead with a flick of your tongue, nearly having Gojo bite on his. 

“Oh, my God, sweetie, please!” His blue eyes sparkle with a misty wanton, drunk on this sensation between his legs. “I can’t think right now…Lemme fuck your tits like crazy!”

You smirk with no words, sticking your tongue out to drizzle your warm saliva on his tip, the poor partner choking on the air before you suck his entire tip into your mouth. Greeting his sensitive glans with your tongue, your chest continues to squeeze and stroke his shaft to have him a whining mess. Shaky hands find your shoulders, but it doesn’t stop your rhythm that can easily have him melt to the floor. And if that doesn’t do it, then your tongue flicking and teasing his urethra sure will—shocks travel across his body as you suck harshly for his precum, and his head is too mushy to stop his peak from crumbling down.

He surprises you with a burst of his semen, screaming with a gleeful smile as his white substance protrudes out and paints your chin and your messy chest. You lift a bit to have him come into your bra, seeing his come create a damp and sticky spot as your nipple rubs on him. “You’re so bad, Satoru~,” you titter. “So naughty and dirty.”

That’s precisely what he feels: bad and dirty for thinking of you like this…and worse, he keeps going.

“Ohhh!! ’T-Toruuu, yer going so faast! Nooohh!!

If Gojo is likely to lose his mind at your chest, it’s entirely plausible that he’d go wild at the snug feeling of your vaginal walls clamping around his dick. Oh, he can just picture it: your legs locked between his as he pummels his cock into your bare cunt, your hands tied to your back with a headband, and your firm hands placed on your shoulders as he drills himself to churn your insides. 

Nothing can keep him at bay; his hips going buck-wild, slamming his pelvis down to your ass to make the flesh jiggle, moaning aloud at the sensation of you squeezing him whenever the tip grazes your sweet spots accurately, and thinking about nothing more than stuffing you full of his load. Fuck, you’d look so pretty, all fucked out and coated in his cum, filling it to the brim nonstop until his limb goes limp. Now that’s a workout he’ll get behind til the end of his days!

“Satoruuu!” You cry out his name, drooling escaping your pretty lips as you writhe. “It’s shoo muuuch, ‘oo muuuch!!”

His eyes roll to his skull from how much you are clenching around him, grinding his hips down to your ass to rub on your G-spot to the point of unintelligible babbles. Tighter, tighter! “Ahhhh, shiiit, baby, you feel so good,” he hiccups with abrupt ruts to your chasm. “So fucking…good!”

“Nnnmm, mmph!” Your eyes are sewn shut as the pleasure becomes overwhelming to bear, Gojo’s curved dick making it easier to scratch your vaginal walls to a euphoric itch. A poke to your cervix causes a sharp gasp and eyes to widen again. “—Gahaaa, wa-wait, Satoru, stop! If you keep—Mmmph!”

“Ahaah, there it is,” he draws his length outward before shoving it back inside to hit your womb once more. You yelp and tighten around him again. “Your little weak spot is right here, huh?” More gnashes to your ass cause frequent jabs to your womb, your lower half jerking to every single one.

“Ohhh fuuck, I’m gonna cummm…!!”

“Yeah, I can feel it,” Gojo licks his lips before kissing your nape. “But not yet, right? You said you’d help me with my endurance training, so hold on a little longer, okay, my princess?”

Before you could retort, his hips began to jackhammer into your cunt at an irregular pace, your screams only fueling him to pound you even more. “OhhhhGod, Satoru, go slooow…’Toru, please!!”

SNAP, SNAP!!

“Hey, Satoru, you okay? You’re daydreaming again.”

With the snap of your fingers, Gojo is brought back to reality, realizing he’s been adrift with his thoughts yet again as he sits aimlessly on the adjustable bench. “Ah, sorry, what were you saying?”

“I said, let’s get outta here; I’ll treat you to some burgers.” You beam before turning on your heel. “Now, hurry up; the place is closing soon!”

The white-haired man watches you go, eyes lingering on your finger and thanking the stars you hadn’t noticed the pink of his cheeks and ears flourishing. Nor the white towel that he held by his groin and quickly covering the tent protruding from his shorts.

…Fuck!

© HOSHIGRAY2024 – reblogs and comments are appreciated wholeheartedly ⊹ dividers by @animatedglittergraphics-n-more.

[winndycakes]

Winndy Rambles And Gushes About Chuck Tingle

Wanted to ramble a little about one of my favorite authors, creators and overall just super rad people; Chuck Tingle.

Like many people, when I first heard of Chuck, I took him as some sort of meme. A troll, a joke, someone not to be taken seriously. After all, the majority of his works are "silly short erotica stories around dinosaurs, cryptids and even living concepts and items". How COULD this be serious? It's a question I asked before, years ago, and one that many still do to this day.

One holiday season, a friend had made a post on FaceBook saying "first five people to comment I'll gift you a book". So I did. The book I got was a physical copy of the "Space Raptor Butt Invasion Trilogy" by Chuck Tingle. Since I had a book of Tingle's now, I really had no excuse to not read it for myself.

Erotica normally isn't my thing (I'm pretty ace and grey aro too), but very quickly, I was charmed by the prose. As you read Chuck's stories, there's a fact that becomes very apparent. Chuck Tingle is a great writer, a really great writer. How he writes, how the words flow together, one sentence going into the next. The characters, the plot, the little bits of lore, dialogue and all he puts in... You quickly begin to see; this is NOT a joke.

It is not a meme. He is not trolling you. It is art. Passionate, sincere, genuine art. And it's beautiful. The more you read, the more definitive it gets.

I will admit, I have read aloud many a Tingler for friends and others in Discord servers, both to share my joy of Tingle with others, but also, it is fun to look at how different his works are. It's fine to laugh along with them even.

The moment that really was like... angels singing, light shining down and there's bishi sparkles and a heavenly soft pink background appearing for me though was the summer Chuck Tingle released on of his first full novella's; "Trans Wizard Harriet Porber and the Bad Boy Parasaurolophus". Like many, I was crushed and gutted at JKR's extreme turn to committing to transphobia (and of course the hindsight of realizing... the HP books and universe were not as kind and welcoming as I remembered growing up). So when Chuck Tingle (in one weekend mind you) came out with a 50k novel affirming trans people and their belonging in not just queer spaces, but being on this Earth, as fellow human beings, it was... affirming. It was the welcoming feeling I had gotten with the original HP books all those years ago, but it was real. (Also please read both Trans Wizard Harriet Porber books. They're delightful, fun and the magic system Tingle creates is so, so cool and interesting).

The next thing that got me just mega hype for Tingle was his first foray into horror; "Straight". "Straight" is Tingle's answer to the ever popular trope and genre of zombies and the apocalypse that comes with them, and what a fun turn of tables he takes on them. Zombies in the Tingleverse are not undead beings, they're not humans afflicted by a virus, instead a strange cosmic event happens once a year, when one night, all cishet people on Earth get this animalistic, violent urge to brutally harm and even kill all queer people. I won't get too spoilery about it but it is a very fun romp, and as someone who has been fatigued by zombies, it is a welcome new perspective.

Not long after this, Chuck came out with two full, traditionally published horror novels; "Camp Damascus" and "Bury Your Gays". Both are very different experiences in horror, both a joyful celebration of being queer and your authentic self even in the face of those looking to silence you, permanently if they must. I had the pleasure of meeting Chuck (twice!) while he was on tour for both of these books, getting my copies signed (along with my copies of the Trans Wizard duology and my beloved copy of the Space Raptor trilogy) and was able to tell Tingle myself just how important he is to someone like me; another queer autistic creator. (I was also one of the few people to win the little mini games he gave, twice, but that's a different story).

Ultimately that is what I am trying to get at. Growing up, and even for all of my 20s, there wasn't really someone like Tingle. Someone unabashedly authentic, themselves, queer, open and imo most importantly, joyously so. One is often told "just be yourself" but that can be hard to do when it seems like the world is against you for one reason or another.

Seeing a creator like Chuck shows how important it is to have such a presence in the world, and I was glad I got to tell him myself. I've had a lot of hardships in life, a lot of losses, a lot of grief, but someone like Chuck is there to tell you to keep trotting and remind you; Love Is Real.

And that's truly the ending message:

Love Is Real.

[gay-dorito-dust]

hey if ur requests are still open what do you think of an Arcane herald viktor turning reader into one of his hex angels on the rooftop thinking it will show them his vision of the ''glorious evokution'' only for it to turn reader into a empty husk and viktor realize in horror that he done goofed

Don’t we love a bit of angst here on this blog, especially when it concerns arcane Jesus.

‘Viktor, don’t.’ You pleaded, far too tired to keep up the fighting anymore, not against someone you once-no- still cared for deeply. ‘Please stop this madness.’ You add as you struggled weakly against his grasp on your chin, keeping you in place against him as he made sure to keep your head careened back, just so to keep you looking up at him as his other hand was etching closer towards your forehead.

Your heart was racing within your chest as your eyes tried to see for an opportunity out of Viktor’s grasp, only to see that your weapon -a crowbar- was too far from your reach, and even if you were able to break free form Viktor you still had to fight your way through the wave of Hex Angels to get to your weapon. All hope for you was lost in this moment and you knew that screaming for help wouldn’t help much either as you didn’t know if anyone who wasn’t turned into one of those humanoid creatures already.

‘Don’t fight against what is already predestined my dear.’ Viktor said, his distorted voice still calm and certain within his new form as it towered over you, orange eyes glaring down at you in a manner that made you feel over exposed. ‘I just wish for you to see what I see.’ He continued as his fingertips brushed against your forehead, startling you as you began to thrash in his arms once again, the urge to escape and stay who you were was strong but Viktor was stronger as he tightened his grip on you once more; a touch that once made you calm and reassured now only emphasised the hopelessness within your chest that only felt more and more inevitable than ever the more fingertips were pressed against your forehead.

‘Viktor I don’t want to go.’ You whimpered, pawing at his hand that held your chin but before you could continue to plead for your freedom, the last of Viktor’s fingers was pressed against your head and everything became blank as your eyes glazed over, mouth became agape in wordless babbling as your body underwent the same transformation as the other Hex Angels before you.

Viktor on the other hand was waiting for you within the star scattered astral plane, but when a couple of minutes have passed and you hadn’t appeared before him still he felt something was wrong, very wrong. You should’ve been here by now so that he could make you see what he could, the glorious evolution the he knew was destined to come about, hoping that you’d understand and willingly join by his side in his quest like you once did before he became…all this.

‘My dear?’ He calls aloud, his voice echoing throughout the star light space that seemed to stretch on endlessly.

‘My love? My muse?’ Viktor calls again as he felt what semblance of his heart remained tighten in pain and worry, all very human emotions that he thought he had forgone that were now rushing back when he couldn’t see you, nor feel you when he stretched his hand out in hopes of sensing you within the same plan of existence as him.

Nothing. You were nowhere to be found nor felt or even heard and that only made Viktor frown as his mind races with logical explanations as to what you were hiding from him. ‘I can’t feel you my beloved.’ He says to himself as he tries once again, this time more desperately to find you but only to have it come back the same as before, nothing. It was almost as if you didn’t want him to find you and if they were the case then why? Why hide from him? You knew he would never bring you to actual harm right?

Viktor was at a loss for words as he brought his hand back to his side. ‘I can’t feel you,’ he murmured to himself, ‘why can’t I feel you my heart?’ He furrows his brows as he continues to look for you within the astral plan, his thoughts getting worse when it looked like you never entered it in the first place. No. That couldn’t be, Viktor didn’t want to imagine it that way at all as he immediately resorted to denial that something horrible had happened to you. You were far stronger than that, Viktor knew this to be fact as the memories flooded to his head of the times where you’ve proven to be the strongest person he knew his entire life.

Look something within Viktor told him.

Look and see what has become of your beloved it said once again as Viktor looked and saw that where your beautiful face once looked up at him was now a sleek, lifeless golden accented mask with a golden webbing of a thorny crown that rested upon your head and a pair of unique golden streaks running down your mask from where your eyes would’ve been, almost like tear stains. You had become one of his hex angles, lifeless, devoid of all emotion; never to ever again utter a single word in protest or excitement for that was all stripped away from you; Just another husk of person that Viktor could use and his heart cracked in two.

You weren’t here in the astral plan either him because he might as well have killed you for there was not an ounce of you left that he could pick up on, you were gone and it was all because of him.

The machine herald cradled your skew sleek face between metallic hands, running his thumbs over where your cheeks once were as though reminiscent before leaning down to rest his head against your own and letting out a mournful sigh. ‘I’m sorry my beloved.’ His distorted voice murmured, waiting for a response that he’ll never get, which only seems to hurt him even more as was practically cradling your husk of a body to his own, in an all too human act for someone of his calibre. ‘I’m so sorry.’ He whispers as he’s brought to his knees, stilling holding on to you tightly but you didn’t rub his back nor cradled his face like you once did, you just stood there as you looked ahead as though awaiting orders.

‘This isn’t how I wanted it to be! I just wanted to show you what we could’ve become!’ The herald cried but it was useless, anyone that was left to care was too far away to hear or was gone entirely due to the raging conflict below you both. ‘I didn’t mean it, I didn’t meant it. I can fix you I promise.’ Viktor didn’t know who he was promising this to anymore, you? No you were gone. Himself? He wasn’t quite sure if he could even reverse the damage already too far gone. So who was he truly fooling other than the his other Hex angels, who only stared blankly as their herald cradled one of their own within his arms, clearly in a state of mourning and utter regret.

All Viktor could do was say he was sorry over and over again as if that was going to help undo what he had done to you. His heart breaking over and over again when you didn’t do the things you would’ve done when he was like this, serving as a grim reminder that he had taken away the one person who cared about him for who he was, disease or not; He had taken away his own god given solace and now he has to deal with the consequences of his own actions as he held your hex angel form close, wishing to hear your heart beat again.

Bonus cuz I’m feeling evil;

In another reality, one where the hexcore has destroyed and consumed everyone, Viktor -now in a somewhat human body after some trial and tribulations- still sits with your hollowed corpse, resting his head against what once was your shoulder and closes his eyes as the pain still lingered within his chest that this was all his doing.

You have been gone for so long and yet the pain he felt still felt fresh, felt new as though he had just watched you die right before his eyes and in his arms no less. Yet viktor still couldn’t believe that you were gone, no longer with him to smile nor give your heart to him again, you were gone but Viktor was still within the bargaining stage of his grief. He wanted no- he needed you back in his life and he certainly didn’t want you in his life as a hollow corpse, overlooking the ruins of Piltover and Zaun in an eternal state of mourning.

‘I’m sorry my heart, for I still cannot feel you.’ He utters against your cold shoulder, looking at you with amber eyes but sighed when all he could gauge from you was the moss and algae making your golden thrones crown their home, the algae and moss it cascaded down the back of your head and back like a billowing cape or veil he’ll never get to see you wear. ‘But I would like to stay here with you…if that’s okay?’ He asks but got no response and so Viktor sat by your corpse for days on end, wishing to repent for his actions against you, wishing for another opportunity with you in another life or plan of existence.

Viktor could only hope his other variants of himself would never dare to make the same foolish mistake he did, loosing you was the utter most worst thing Viktor ever had to endure, and to be honest he was still paying the price.

[surielstea]

“I could take you”

Pairing: Acotar men x Fem!Reader (separately)

Summary: Reader teases her mate, saying she could take them in a fight, or in other places.

Warnings: All fluff, suggestive

Rhysand

"I could take you," I surmise aloud. My mate, who was trying to sleep peeked one eye open.

"We just finished, I'm not one to complain but aren't you tired?" He grumbled and I giggled.

"Not sex, I could take you in a fight dummy," I punch his shoulder and his brows rise.

"Oh really?" He drags out, arm wrapping tighter around my torso, pulling me into his chest as darkness swarms the room. "Don't make me mist you," He mumbled tiredly into my neck and I rolled my eyes.

"I'm serious, I could," I urge. "I know just how I'd do it too," I trail my fingertips up his bare chest.

"You think about killing me often?" He presumes and I roll my eyes.

"I'm just saying, it'd be easy," I tease.

"Murder me in your dreams, you fiend," He huffed, stuffing his face into my breasts without thought.

"Only kidding Rhys, I'd never harm you," I reassure. "But I could," I add and he smiles against my chest at the absurdity of this mindless conversation.

Cassian

"I could take you," I cross my arms over my chest, sizing up my mate with narrowed eyes. The shirtless male looked at me with an arched brow while he drank deeply from his water. I had been watching him train for hours now, so long that it felt as if I had every one of his moves and skills memorized.

"You think so?" He challenges and I nod with a beaming grin, taking a step closer and staring up at him entirely innocent.

"I know so," I shrug. His smile only widens.

"I guarantee I could have you on your knees within seconds," He leans dauntingly close but I don't falter, keep my unwavering ground.

"Whatever you say, sweetheart," I rise onto my toes and peck his lips. He seemed entirely thrown off by the mix of my kiss and the nickname, and that fact alone made me one thousand percent sure I could throw him off his rhythm in combat too, he might've called it cheating but I saw it as a strategic advantage of sorts.

“You want to spar or would you prefer to take me in other ways?" He taunted and I'd be lying if I didn't want both, though I decided I wanted one a little more.

"What are you waiting for tough guy?" I backed up towards the mats with a prideful smirk that mirrored his.

Azriel

My mate had his head in my lap while he read some non-fiction I had no interest in, much preferring to run my hands through his curls and watch his tense features morph into those of relaxation. My thoughts wandered in the comfortable silence, it began by thinking of what he was reading about, then the fact that he was smart and strong, and then it spiraled from there.

"I think I could take you in a fight," I mumble and his eyes that had been running across his page froze, then flicked up to mine.

"What was that, my love?" He closed his book, pausing whatever page he was in the middle of in order to give me his full attention.

"I could take you," I repeat and he blinks, then, to my surprise, he nods.

"Probably," He hums, cracking his book back open and offering no explanation as to why he thinks so.

Azriel was a competitive male, even with me. So when he said such a thing I was thrown entirely off my train of thought. "Wait— you're serious?" My hands stop combing through his hair and his bottom lip juts out in the absence of the ministrations, a grown male, pouting.

"When am I not?" He hummed and I rolled my eyes. The answer to that was more often than he'd care to admit.

"Why do you think I can?" I ask.

He shrugs simply before saying, "You'd probably use your witchcraft on me.” His eyes were entirely genuine. I push his head off my lap with a faux look of anger. He came back to me with full force, arms reaching around me and pulling me into him, his head pressing in the junction between my neck and shoulder. "I'm not a witch," I huff and he only smiles against my skin.

"Maybe not, but your seductive powers work too well on me," He explains and I roll my eyes. The powers he was referring to included a lingerie set and a few keywords that had him doing laps.

"It's not hard when I've got you wrapped around my finger," I sing and he sighs contentedly, pulling me closer, seemingly happy with with that statement, like he would never try to change that fact. Even if it meant I could take him down on a sparring mat.

Eris Vanserra

Eris was baking. An odd sight to see for anyone else but for me, it was a simple Sunday morning. I drifted into the kitchen with a drunken smile on my face as I slung my arms around his torso and draped myself over him. "What's that grin for?" He glances over at me before continuing to read whatever recipe he was following.

"Just thinking," I hum with a dazed look. It was no secret that today had been the peak of my ovulation in my cycle, my need for him was all-consuming. Yet here he was, baking my favorite flavor pie. "I wanna take you," I huff into his shoulder and he chuckles.

He makes a real show of ignoring my pleas and instead answers with an amused tone, "In a fight?"

I scowl, my frown deepening as I stare up at him— but then he had me thinking about it. "Why not?" I shrug.

"You sure you can?" He tilts his head down at me demeaningly— gods, he knows this is torture.

"Fine, you're too smart for me to beat in a fight but I could take you to other places," I wrap my arms around his neck and he sloppily smiles. "You're plenty smart, my sweet," His hands come to my hips, and his touch alone relieved sacred parts of me. I shake my head in denial. "C'mon, I've got a few weak spots I’m sure you could figure it out," He reassures, his voice soft. I didn't want to think about fighting him, I never wanted to have to.

"I love you too much to fight with you," I shrug, lifting up and pecking his lips innocently, void of my earlier arousal.

"That," He whispers against my lips. "That was one of my weak spots," He murmurs and I smile.

"Can you fuck me now or is this pie still more important than your very pretty, very needy mate?" I ask impatiently and he shakes his head with a charming expression. "Very needy, indeed."

Lucien Vanserra

“I could take you, and I don’t mean in a fight,” I say, head propped up on my mate's shoulder, peering up at him from inches away while he focused on peeling a tangerine for me. He simply laughs when he notices I’m serious, lips curling into a delighted smile.

“What’s that even supposed to mean?” He mumbles and I flip over onto his lap, straddling his hips.

“I’ll let you figure that out,” I mumble with a shrug. He shakes his head, looking down at the fruit in his hand as he peels the rind.

“You’re ridiculous,” He mumbled under his breath and I grinned wildly.

“You love it,” I muse and he looks up to me, handing me the peeled orange, ready to be eaten.

“I do,” He confesses, and that look on his face makes my stomach blossom with warmth, overflowing with admiration and devotion.

I don’t know how to react, or what to do with all the love he gives me, so instead I say the first thing that comes to mind, “I could also take you in a fight, though.”

He leans closer with a teasing grin. “And why’s that sunshine?” He hums as I pop a slice of the tangerine into my mouth, the sweet taste of citrus making me smile.

“You wouldn’t be able to fight back,” I shrug and his brows crease in confusion.

“Cause I’d be too scared?” He presumes and I shake my head, swallowing my fruit.

“Because you love me,” I croon.

“Unfortunately,” He grumbles under his breath and my jaw drops in shock. “Lu!” I exclaim as I push his shoulders and he falls back into the couch.

“I’m only kidding sunshine, you know you’re all I’ve ever wanted,” He reassured with a lilt in his tone, making me roll my eyes.

“I’m seriously debating that fight right now,” I murmur and he smiles, hand coming to my cheek and pulling me into him.

“Such a drama queen,” He mumbles, pressing his mouth to mine before I can retort. I melt into him, hands coming to his cheeks with delicate touches, my thumb tracing the end of his scar. “I love you too much to fight back, too,” I admit, his smile only grows. “I know.”

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[blackenedsnow]

art the clown x a super suicidal reader?

riddles in red

WARNING: Graphic descriptions of self-harm, suicidal ideation, depictions of violence, gore, dark themes, unhealthy relationships, toxic affection.

PAIRING: Art the Clown x Suicidal! Reader

NOTE: Thanks for the request! I’m absolutely loving the creative freedom with this on! Stay safe, and remember this is purely fiction; if you're struggling, reach out for help. Enjoy!

SUMMARY: You're trapped in an endless cycle of self-harm and suicidal ideation, you find yourself inexplicably entangled with Art the Clown, whose existence brings a strange sense of comfort.

Your body is a canvas of fading bruises, healing wounds, and fresh cuts. Scars etched in your skin, carved by your own hands, tell the stories you can't say aloud. The pain brings clarity, a moment of reprieve from the chaos inside your mind – a moment where the world silences itself, and the only thing you hear is the rush of blood in your ears, the only thing you feel is the sting beneath the blade.

But lately, there's been another presence. Not the darkness in your head, but something – someone – that terrifies you more than your own destructive thoughts.

Art.

You don’t know when you first saw him. It was somewhere between one breakdown and another, between one failed attempt at escape from this world and the cruel joke that is still being here. He appeared, looming like a nightmarish figure from the deepest recesses of your subconscious. But he didn’t kill you. That was the weird part.

No, he just... watched. Smiled that grotesque, too-wide smile that stretches across his painted face, tilting his head in a way that says everything his silence doesn't. The first time you expected him to pull out one of his twisted tricks – a honk of a horn before plunging something sharp into your chest, ripping you apart for his own sadistic pleasure. But instead, he reached out with a gloved hand, fingers brushing against the bloodied cuts on your wrists, and you froze.

Art’s fascination wasn’t with violence in this moment. It was with you.

His cold, dark eyes, pits of inky nothingness, tracked every motion of the blade. You don’t know what disturbed you more: the fact that you let him stay or the fact that you weren’t scared of him. Not in the same way you should be. There was no fear of death, not anymore. There was only this strange, eerie comfort in his presence – in knowing that someone, even someone like him, saw you.

You once asked yourself: What’s worse than dying?

Now you know.

It’s living when you don’t want to. It’s dragging your feet through each day, heavy with the weight of a mind that’s been your worst enemy for as long as you can remember. It’s the numbness, the cold spreading through your bones like frost creeping across glass. And it's having someone – no, something – that embodies the very concept of death standing beside you, silent as a shadow, watching as you destroy yourself piece by piece.

But Art... God, he’s a riddle. A silent enigma wrapped in his black-and-white attire, his clownish garb juxtaposed against the violence he's capable of. You don’t know why he hasn’t killed you yet. He’s killed so many others, but not you.

Maybe it’s because he sees in you the kind of death that can’t be brought about by knives or guns or chainsaws. Maybe he sees someone already broken, already decaying from the inside out. Or maybe it’s because in some twisted, sick way, he loves you.

Love. What a joke. It’s never been something you understood. But when Art looks at you with those dead, hollow eyes, there’s something there. Not love in the way a human would feel it. No. This is something darker, more grotesque. It’s obsession, possession, fixation – a need to keep you close, to watch as you unravel further.

Art’s affection comes in small gestures. He’ll tilt his head as you press the blade against your skin, and he’s smiling behind that thick layer of face paint. Once, he handed you a knife, a gift of sorts, as if to say, “Here. This one’s sharper.”

You took it.

He doesn’t speak. He doesn’t need to. His movements, his actions, speak volumes. The way his eyes linger on the red ribbons of blood trailing down your arm, the way he crouches beside you, close enough that you can feel the cold radiating off him, but he never touches. Not unless you let him. Not unless you want him to.

And you do. Sometimes, you let his gloved hands trace over the scars you’ve made, let his fingers curl around your wrist, a gentle but firm hold that tells you he’s in control – that he could break you if he wanted to.

But he never does.

He watches, a patient, twisted guardian of your own destruction. Sometimes, you imagine what it would feel like if he did decide to end it – to snap your neck with those disturbingly strong hands, to cut you open, spilling your insides onto the floor in a horrific display of artistry. But he never does.

Instead, he’s there, in the background of your life, a constant, silent presence. Watching. Always watching. And you don’t know why, but that’s enough. It’s enough that someone, even someone as monstrous as Art, cares enough to stay.

You don’t feel like a person anymore. You’re more a collection of bad habits, of scars and open wounds, of thoughts too heavy for any one person to carry. You don’t have friends. You don’t have family. You have Art. And maybe that’s enough.

The night he showed you his love was the night you came closest to dying. You were shaking, the blade poised above your wrist, fresh blood already pooling beneath you. Art was there, sitting on the floor beside you, mimicking your posture in that eerie, almost playful way of his.

You could feel his eyes on you, feel his anticipation. This was it. You were finally going to do it. You were finally going to end it.

But then, in a flash of movement faster than you could comprehend, he was on you. His hands wrapped around yours, taking the blade from your fingers with a gentleness you didn’t think he was capable of. His eyes bore into yours, his expression unreadable, and for a moment, you thought he was going to kill you himself.

But he didn’t.

Instead, he pressed his forehead to yours, a strange, tender gesture. You could feel his cold breath against your skin, and for the first time in a long time, you didn’t feel alone.

Art the Clown, this inhuman, grotesque creature, had stopped you from killing yourself.

You don’t know why. You don’t know if you’ll ever know. But in that moment, you realized something.

You’re his.

He’s not keeping you alive because he wants to kill you himself. No. He’s keeping you alive because, in some twisted way, he needs you. Maybe he sees you as a project, something to mold and shape into his own image. Or maybe, just maybe, he cares.

It’s sick. It’s twisted. But in this cold, cruel world, You’ll take what you can get.

[liliannadelaphinehartifelt]

Alastor - [ DEVOTION… PT.1 ]

xxxxxx xxxxxx xxxxxxx xxxxxxx xxxxxx xxx

[ NSFW ] + [ MDNI ] + [ SLIGHT AGE GAP ] + [ ARRANGED MARRIAGE ] + [ BREEDING KINK ] - ( there’s a lot to unpack in this one, I know, but you’ll enjoy it.. also pls kindly lmk the artist for the fanart I used so I can tag them thx! )

xxxxxx xxxxxx xxxxxxx xxxxxxx xxxxxx xxx

Alastor Hartifelt was a fantastic husband.

No one could deny that.

Especially not his darling wife of one year and counting.

You, his sole companion during childhood, dawning from a rich family that occupied an estate near his family’s plot of farming land, and exceptionally infatuated with him early into your friendship.

From the very first time you met him out in the sprawling green meadows of Louisiana’s swamped countryside you found comfort in each other even amidst being ignored or teased by other children.

Their shared hatred and resentment towards you and the older boy cultivated an odd but strong bond between you two, and soon your strife to fit in seemed less appealing than being his truest friend.

Alastor immediately became protective of you, finding your shy nature welcoming like his own mothers, but also irritated by those who wished you harm for the simple fact that your family was better off than their own.

If anyone dared to pick a fight, tease, or berate you Alastor was right there to come to your aid. You’d tell him time and time again that fighting for you wasn’t worth it, that seeing him hurt wounded you more than their words, but for some baffling reason he’d never head your pleas.

Why?…

In retrospect Alastor wasn’t sure of the reason himself but he was certain it had something to do with the way you returned the favor by protecting him in your own subtle ways.

Your arms remained wide open when he needed an embrace, voice full of tender understanding when the two of you held quiet conversations late into the evening, and generally being his safe place when the rest of the world refused to be.

You were his darling from the very beginning…

His everything…

Yet, Alastor wouldn’t dare say it aloud..,

The two of you couldn’t be more different to those who observed your relationship from the outside. Alastor held an air of confidence wherever he went, suave, and well mannered. He could be cunning when provoked, dangerously charming to get his way, and refreshingly decisive under any amount of pressure.

A man every woman in New Orleans wanted, craved even, but it was well known the famous radio host had you at his side.

You, the city’s undisputed princess, daughter of a wealthy businessman, but regarded as the furthest thing from a ‘spoiled brat’. It was expected for those in higher circles to have sour and condescending attitudes but you proved to be different. Soft spoken, interested in the arts more than being out on the town, and some might’ve considered you ‘sheltered’ in terms of upbringing.

The contrast between Alastor and yourself brought about many whispered rumors and questions.

“How’d a sweet little thing like her end up with him?”

“Doesn’t he want someone better suited? Whats so special about her?”

“I hear, he married her for the fathers money. Don’t blame him for it either…she’s a real peach…”

“A little young for him don’t you think? She’s a lovely broad though…”

You’d heard it all. Every sort of rumor or piece of gossip people had to offer you’d picked up on rather quickly and at first it bothered you, but overtime seeing Alastor act indifferent to the scandalous comments made you less weary of them.

He’d never entertain the scrutiny, choosing to remind you his decision to marry wasn’t fueled by any ill will and as his wife you’d never need to worry about him caring for you.

Alastor’s always had, even when he’d left New Orleans to build his career he still thought of you from time to time, but that’s all he’d ever done.

Cared for you…

Love seemed to allude his spectrum of emotions and vocabulary. Yes, he shows you affection, buying expensive gifts, making sure you never lifted a finger for anything other than cleaning or cooking when needed, and proudly showing you off on his arm at parties and social events he attended.

Yes, he strived to hide his murderous tendencies, taking extra lengths to shield you from his ‘hunting’ escapades by planning them weeks before, and then going as far as discreetly cleaning his bloody clothes and weapons the night he returns while you slept soundly in your shared bed.

Alastor took great care in showing you he cared but defining his love for you was never addressed.

Not even on your wedding day.

It was as if he’d scripted his vows to say nothing of the emotion and even avoided saying “I love you” back when you’d accidentally let it slip out during your own speech for him.

You hadn’t pressed the issue at all, knowing Alastor struggled with concepts of intimacy and devotion since childhood, but the lmawing teeth of doubt pricked your skin harder with each passing day of your marriage.

Had you made a mistake agreeing to marry him?

Was he seeing someone else?

Someone knowledgeable of the world, maybe more experienced in life than you were, or more attentive?

Was she prettier?

Were you not his kind of woman?

Where did he go so late at night, at random times of the month, with a leather bag in his hand and a wide smile on his face?…

Had Alastor been seeing another woman for a whole year and you were just too oblivious or infatuated to notice?

Did he even like you anymore? Could he ever love you…?

Were you not enough for him?

Thoughts plagued your mind constantly, causing you to be quieter than usual, and less receptive to Alsstors lingering presence.

Your back was to him, giving a good veiw of your small frame as you cooked in the large kitchen. The familiar sight brought a smile to Alastor’s face. You were so focused, hair tied back by a white silk bow, and a sheer floor length robe to match.

He’d bough both for you only a week prior, claiming he couldn’t just let the items sit in the display window when you’d been staring at with such bright stars in your eyes, but in truth Alastor had imagined you wearing it just as you were now and couldn’t resist buying it on the spot.

Your husband remained silent as he watched you waltz around the kitchen, chocolate brown eyes peering over the top of his glasses as he did, but his smile faltering seeing the distress in your delicate features.

You weren’t the type to frown often, always emitting warmth and sweetness, so the rare appearance of anguish in your expression perplexed Alastor.

What had upset his darling wife?

Who would he have to kill?….

Asking what was troubling you would surely give him answers to both questions.

He stepped forward, coming from round the corner to enter the kitchen fully before striding over to stand by your side as you began to mix what he assumed was dessert in a bowl.

Albeit, he was probably right knowing you had a vicious sweet tooth.

“Strawberry cake I presume?” Alastor finally speaks, making his presence known with a cheeky remark, and you nearly jump out of your skin hearing his silky voice resonate around the room.

Your head snaps up to look at him, eyes wide with slight surprise, but they quickly soften as he smiles. A blush creeps onto your cheeks as he steps closer, initiating his usual habit of brushing a stray strand of hair from your face before kissing your temple gently, and only pulling away when you squeak out a greeting back to him.

“H-hi Al…you’re home a bit earlier than I expected…” you swallow thickly, staring at him adoringly for a moment before lowering your gaze as tinges of guilt build in you. “I’m sorry dinner isn’t quite ready yet…” you whisper, feeling shameful, and more agitated with yourself than before. Alastor had and would never berate you, unlike most men of the time he saw no benefit in treating his wife like a slave, and made an effort to remind you not everything had to be perfect.

“It’ s alright, darling. You needn’t rush yourself,” his voice is low, simmering with reassurance as he lifts your chin with his thumb and pointer finger. You smile nervously as your eyes meet his again, his touch firm and electrifying all at once, and your tummy doing several flips when he smiles back at you.

Alastor studies your face, attempting to pinpoint the source of your masked sadness, “You seem…troubled, sweetheart. Is there something wrong?” His genuine question brings a shock to your heart, tongue going numb as you race to think of a believable reason for your dampened mood, “I…I just had a little mishap with this cake batter is all!..”

You step away from him, turning to face the semi clean counter with a false air of cheeriness surrounding you. The fear of sounding needy and demanding while telling Alastor the truth keeps you from being honest with him outright.

Fake it.

I shouldn’t worry him with my insecurities or doubts…

It might push him further away…

The whisk in your hand spins in tight circles as you focus on mixing the overdone batter, beginning to thicken itself more than necessary as you kept going, using the task as a distraction from Alastor’s keen observance.

Something was wrong.

He was sure of it now.

His eyes narrowed behind the circular glasses, hands finding your waist as he came to stand behind you, allowing his chest to press against your back, and his head lowering to tuck into the crook of your neck.

A shiver racked your body as he exhaled a long, steady breath onto your skin. Your hands faltered, flurried movements becoming lax as you froze in his embrace, “When’d you start lying to me, ma chère…” Alastor mumbled into your ear. Every nerve in your body was on alert, shocked that he’d went much further than his usual bounds of physical affection, but pleasantly delighted he’d given it to you.

“M’ not lying,..”you try to uphold your lie through rising pants, tempted to moan quietly feeling his lips graze behind your ear, neck, and bare shoulder while your robe shifted lower. You weren’t certain if Alastor was inching it down by his own accord or your subtle squirming against him was to blame.

The ending result was the same either way. Your upper body gradually becoming exposed to his leering gaze and the cool air. Alastor hummed, the sound rumbling deep in his chest and flooding your mind repeatedly as he placed chaste kisses on your neck.

“I wish I could believe you, darling…” he chuckled lowly, hands inching towards the lace ribbon keeping your gown tied shut, and with one gentle tug he rendered the fabric useless. “Al..” you whined in slight surprise as he snatched the ribbon off, letting it unravel into a small pile on the tile floor before sliding his cold hands up the expanse of your heated torso.

Nothing.

You were wearing absolutely nothing underneath the thin robe and Alastor audibly groaned when he realized it.

Had you planned on this?

Were you just waiting for him to venture further with you?

All this time he’d watched you frolic and pace around your shared home, wondering what was hidden under you seemingly modest clothing….just to find you wore nothing at all…

Oh, what a rare occurrence it was for him to be such a blind fool.

Your hands flew to grasp Alastor’s wrists as he held you tighter, kneading your soft flesh lovingly, and taking his time to admire every dip and curve you had to offer him.

“Al…please..” you begged, visibly shuddering as he nipped at your neck and played with your breasts. “I won’t go any further until I hear the truth from that pretty mouth of yours, sweetheart…”

Damn it….you cursed yourself, slowly losing the will to think as his lips found the most sensitive area on your neck, bruising it with his tongue teeth until you whimpered and rushed out a jumbled explanation for your heavy mood.

“I…Imscaredyoudomtlovseme…th-that you d-don’t want me- Ahm…” you soft voice reached a new octave as your husband slid his free hand between your thighs to cup your mound, gingerly kicking your legs apart with a nudge of his foot against your own, and you tensed all over as he did so.

Fuck, he could definitely feel how desperate you were now, essentially a mess already without Alastor doing much of anything, and embarrassingly unable to control your arousal.

“Love, hm? That’s what’s troubling your precious mind?…” Alastor mulls over your confession, able to maintain his composure despite heat rushing straight through him to the head of his cock as he slid two fingers into your dripping cunt. You jolted from the sudden intrusion, head lulling back to rest on his shoulder as he pumped them in and out of you at a leisurely pace, curling his deft digits fowvard every so often to make you shiver.

His thumb found your clit, pressing defined circles into it as he began to ease your worries, “Love, ma chère, isn’t what I feel for you..” Alastor lets out a soft laugh, trying to calm his own mind before clarifying his vague statement all while pushing you near the edge of your first high.

“No….I feel much more than love for you, my dear. Devotion is a better term…obsession at times…” he admits the darker side of his affection through heavy breaths, cock twitching in his dress pants when you mewl in understanding. Your warm cunt suffocates his fingers for a moment, walls fluttering as the knot in your core threatens to undo itself, causing Alastor to sharply exhale from the inviting fluctuations.

Your lips parted to warm him of your impending orgasm but only a strained moan tumbled off your tongue. Alastor needed no other sign to tell if you were close, inwardly prideful he could make you come with ease.

“Go on, come undone for me , darling,” he insists in a hushed groan, his fingers stretching your walls in a fluid rhythm to drag your climax out, and you could’ve tumbled to the floor from the sheer intensity of the knot inside you snapping on his command.

Thankfully his taller frame kept you securely trapped between him and the counter that you soon found yourself sitting on the edge of after Alastor slipped his hand away from your throbbing cunt.

You watched with a dazed eyes as the older man licked a stripe of your cum off his fingers, brown eyes sliding shut as he let out a satisfied grunt before staring at your willing form perched on the counters edge.

The sight drew a his hidden hunger closer to the surface, toying with his self control as he took it in, and urging him to act on a primal instinct he’d only ever describe as “intense affection”.

Was that a flash of red in his eyes just now?

No , it couldn’t be…

You weren’t left much time to decipher the hungry glint in his eyes before Alastor reclaimed his position near you. His slender waist slotted perfectly between your thighs, the robe now draped off your back, and your hair gradually falling loose from its simple updo as his hands traced your sides.

“Love, sweet girl, is for lonesome fools…” Alastor pressed his forehead to yours, letting you chase his lips for one heated kiss after the next, and only denying you another to whisper against your soft and slightly swollen lips.

“Neither of us are alone or fools, correct?” He huffs as you nod slowly, bringing your hands up to undo his tie, and then proceeding to expertly unbutton his vest and dress shirt.

The general charm that Alastor maintained completely dissolved into pining under your gentle fingertips, an almost desperate shot of adrenaline consuming him as you peppered kisses along his jaw and neck.

If what he said was truly how he felt about you…it was enough to stamp out your doubts, allowing the adoring side of you he’d grown familiar with to resurface, “No…we aren’t,” you respond with a small smile.

He tips your chin up, placing a deep kiss on your lips as he shrugs his shirt and vest off, setting his glasses to the side as well before reaching for the leather belt on his waist.

You paid his actions no mind, busy with fighting his tongue for dominance, but admitted defeat quite fast as his wandered your mouth in expert fashion.

Your soft hands passed over his chest, moving up to tangle in his soft curls, gently tugging the strands to earn a groan from him. Alastor pulled back, a single line of spit connecting you two as he did so, and his hair falling in front of his eyes as he stared down into your tear glossed gaze, “You’re mine, ma chère. Til death and beyond…”

You nod, halfway coherent, but mustering the will to answer him with a content smile.

“Til death…” you repeat the phrase, mind reeling further from logical thinking as Alastor hummed hearing your dazed response, head nestled in your neck once more before he trailed open mouthed kisses down the expanse of your trembling frame. He brought himself as close as possible to you, smiling on your skin as you gasp quietly feeling his clothed erection press flush against your bare stomach, leaning further back in his hold embrace him better. You feared making a mess of the counter but as Alastor trailed his lips down your body and kneeled between your legs he gave one swift snap of his fingers to eliminate the obstacle entirely.

What?….How in the world did he do that?…

Your curiosity would’ve prompted you to ask him about the absurd occurrence if it weren’t for the anticipation rushing your blood as he came face to face with your cunt. “Alastor?…” you squeaked his name softly, attempting to close your legs when he sighed out a warm breath on your glistening folds, but he held them open using one hand with ease. The other resting steady on your waist, guiding you to lay back onto the cold marble countertop, and lingering there as you obeyed his wordless command.

“Good girl…” he praised, tone deepening as you whined quietly, the sound morphing into a loud moan as he lazily flicked his tongue over your slit once…twice…and a third time.

“More…” you pant in the midst of moaning, head craning to the side while your back arched and the urge to scream built in your chest as Alastor obliged your request with vigorous intent. He hummed melodically as your taste seeped onto his tongue, walls ever so sensitive as he explored them tirelessly, and a smirk playing on his lips as you writhed in pleasure.

Your face was soon flushed completely, eyes watering as they rolled slightly with each pass of his tongue over your cunt, and your small hands returning to tug at his soft brown hair. Another coil spiraled in your stomach hearing him groan in response, seeming to enjoy how roughly you pulled his hair, and his gaze drifting up for a split second to get a good view of your satiated state.

Seven hells….she looks even lovelier like this…

Alastor unconsciously drags you closer to his face, not caring at all when you lock your legs around his head and cry out from the borderline bruising hold he has on you now. “Oh god!…” you yelp, throwing him a bewildered glance before tossing your head back as he lapped at your clit like he’d starve to death without it, and the relentless attention to your bundle of nerves was the last thing you could comprehend before the knot unwinded itself.

Your vision blurred over, everything starting to spin as your cum gushed into his mouth, and the tears you were fighting to hide slid freely down your face as he downed every single drop your body offered.

It was all too much, the hunger in his eyes, his hold on you, and your high that never seemed to subside even as he broke away from your cunt with a satisfied smile on his face.

It was all too much at once….

Your head buzzed with euphoric afterthoughts, incoherency daring to cloud your senses entirely, but the sound of Alastor’s voice near your ear successfully halted the sensations long enough for you to comprehend what he was saying.

“You taste divine, ma chère…” his musing flusters you, a light shade of pink coating your cheeks as he dips his head to steal a kiss from you, “Al…” you sigh into his mouth, biting back a keen smile, and wrapping your arms around his neck to keep him near.

He chuckles hearing the unsteady tremor in your tone, adding onto his compliment after capturing your parted lips in another deep kiss, “I presume you’ll feel just as wonderful with me inside you, sweetheart…”

His assumption proved true. So much so that the moment his cock passed through your slippery folds a heavy groan of your name was the first and only thing he could manage to say. “Y/n….mon amor…” Alastor held you underneath him, not daring to move without completely relishing in the way your cunt wrapped around him first, and your broken moans dizzying the last bit of self control he was clinging onto.

You tried not to seem overwhelmed, with your legs wrapped around his waist, and your hands cupping his face to keep him as close as possible while your body adjusted to his size. With furrowed brows and a soft smile you praised your husbands well endowed length as he finally drew his hips back, leaving nothing but the head his cock resting in you.

“You…feel…s’good….” You whisper, breathless as he slams back in, swallowing your pleased cries with one tender kiss after the next. He tasted like you, hints of bourbon lingering on his tongue from the drink he’d poured himself before leaving the station, but your essence more prominent than ever.

All that he was, all that he did, and would ever do revolved around you.

His darling wife…

His one and only….

It showed through the sweet phrases he muttered against your lips as he took his time to please you, pace slow and deliberate, but the execution precise and cutthroat.

You weren’t sure when you’d raised your voice, crying out louder as he abused your sweetest spot continuously, and only going silent when a inaudible scream begged to leap from your chest while his cock bullied into cervix. Stars collected in your vision, hands clawing at Alastor’s back as you tried to hang onto reality for dear life, but failing miserably when he sped up his thrusts.

A subtle laugh passed his lips, eyes glinting with greedy lust as your head flew back, exposing all the love bites he’d left on your delicate skin, and the sight caused his cock to twitch inside you.

“F-fuck….Al!” Your eyes watered once more, sliding shut as a familiar pressure built in your core, rapidly gaining density the longer Alastor fucked into you.

He groaned at the sound of you shouting his name in such a twisted mix of ecstasy and anguish. Your soft voice becoming tainted with an edge he’d never imagined it could have. “Close already, my dear?..” he teased you, smile as smug as ever as he stood up straight, hands gripping either side of your hips, and his gaze lowering to where you two connected.

“Look…at…that…” he mused, suddenly slowing his thrusts to a painfully harsh pace, fixated on the way your cunt continuously creamed on his length. Alastor bit his tongue to keep from growling at the view, barely registering your whines and pleads for him to go faster.

“Al…Alastor…please..m’ begging you…please…” you felt your thighs shake as he continued his lazy strokes, clearly wanting to drag the ordeal out for his personal entertainment, and his lack of sympathy for your plight in that moment edged you even closer to cumming.

He knew it too…

That infamous grin on his face as he watched you resort to quiet sobs and desperate moans was a sure sign of the fact…

Alastor knew you needed him, loved him, lived for him..

“Please what, mon chere?” He bit his lip, unhooking your legs from around his waist to push them to your chest, giving his cock a new angle to stretch your cunt with.

You felt like passing out then, all strength evaporating from your body as he reached places inside you that surely didn’t exist before. His taunting didn’t make your dazed state any better, “Please, ruin you? Please, love you?… Let me hear you loud and clear, darling..”

Before you could register the words they flew from you mouth in a hushed flurry of need.

“Please…love me…fuck me like you love me…use me…I don’t care anymore…”

Alastor immediately rewarded your answer, wasting no time as his hips snapped into yours feverishly, flooding the kitchen with the sound of skin against skin.

“Lovely…” he cooed, voice thick with tension as he stared down at your overstimulated form, and within seconds of the praise slipping off his tongue you came undone. He followed shortly after, not caring to ask where you wanted his release, and you made no protest as the warm white liquid spilled inside you.

All you could do was stare, mouth falling open as he fucked his cum deeper, “It’s high time you became a mother, mon chere. You’d like that wouldn’t you?..” Alastor rambled, hardly coherent as his high coursed through him, but his statement crystal clear to you.

“Yes…” you whimper in response, walls clenching his cock as the thought of carrying his child sprung into your mind. “I’d love it…Al.”

His heart nearly stops as a genuine closed eye smile graces your face, a light blush painting your cheeks as he kisses them gently while gingerly slipping his softened cock out of your leaking heat. Alastor then lets your legs fall, lifting you to sit up straight on the counter again before wrapping his arms around your waist.

You hang onto him for balance, feeling entirely small in his grasp, and finding comfort in the embrace as exhaustion trickles in.

Alastor breathed in your sweet scent, beginning to pull your robe back on your tired form before reaching for his dress shirt. He was careful not to stir you away from his chest as he shrugged the clothing back on

“I’d love you and our child more than anything…” he nonchalantly mumbles, kissing the top of your head, and chuckling when your tied eyes go wide with undeniable hope.

“More than anything?…”

“Anything, my dear…” he repeats himself with a soft smile, bringing a hand up to push fallen strands of hair from your face.

That was when it occurred to you…

Alastor Hartiflet could love…

He’d always been able to….

And he loved you enough to share it with another…

How surreal….

xxxxxx xxxxxx xxxxxxx xxxxxxx xxxxxx xxx

This entire 1st part was brought to you by the Great Gatsby movie soundtrack…❤️ you’re welcome… ;)

[ BONUS CONTENT + ]

Actually it MIGHT BE 12 inches if we are being honest… ❤️ credits to creator.

[luveline]

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐠𝐚𝐦𝐞 | 𝐦𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐨’𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚

the tension between you and miguel rises to an all-time high —a ficlet featuring a grumpy miguel and a flirty, distracted spider-girl. pre across the spider-verse but contains spoilers. fem!reader, 1k

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

Miguel has asked you multiple times to leave him alone while he's working. The strike force can't run itself (or so he claims —Margo and Lyla seem plenty capable, in your eyes) and he needs time and solitude to organise the protection of canon events, and—

"Blah, blah, blah," you say, dropping your voice to a soft, teasing melody as you skirt around his frankly audaciously jacked chest. 

"Don't blah, blah, blah me," Miguel says. You'd be intimidated if you weren't so happy to mess with him. "I'm not kidding around." 

Okay, maybe you are intimidated. That just makes messing with him more fun. 

The room he operates from, as you've so fondly monikered The Office, is in organised chaos, and much too dark. You drag a lone chair toward his control panel and set yourself down in front of all his screens and computers. 

"Ooh," you hum, reaching for an unlabelled switch with a purposeful slowness. 

Predictably, Miguel slams his hand over yours, yanking your chair back with an annoyed, "No." 

"Come on, Miguel. What harm could I possibly do?"

"You could–" 

"Topple the multiverse?" you suggest. "I've heard." 

"You could turn off every member of the Society's DMW. That's what that does. Potentially endangering each of their lives by stranding them in unfamiliar dimensions, and preventing them from correcting canon events." 

You feel bad for teasing him when you see the look on his face, anger and exhaustion and the slimmest allowance of defeat. It must be tough to lead the Spider-Society. Tougher to micromanage more than half of its members. 

Pulling your hand from under his, you cross your arms over your stomach and give him an apologetic frown. "Sorry, Miguel."

Evidence of his sweet spot for you lines his expression, softening his sharp jaw and the stoic set of his brow. It's gone as quick as it came, and his mask falls back into place. He turns away from you as though pretending you aren't there and scans one of his holographic screens, his face glowing with a yellow-orange haze. 

Miguel has to tolerate you, because you're a Spider-Girl. Though you've never called yourself that aloud, and you're not sure anyone else has, either, it's an undeniable truth. You were bitten by a radioactive spider that gave you super mutant abilities, though yours aren't as potent as others. You're not especially strong, you probably couldn't stop a bus with your bare hands, but you're smart. You haven't saved the world or anything, but you lost your Uncle Ben. You paid the toll. 

Every spider person has lost someone. Miguel seems to have lost more than that. 

"You know," you mumble, kicking the ground lightly to make your chair spin on its axle, "I've been thinking…" 

"That's never good." 

"Why do we wear our suits here?" you ask, spinning for a second time, the room moving past your eyes in flashes. "It seems performative." 

"Ah, I can answer that. Some of us work when we're here." 

You wrinkle your nose at his deadpan and kick the floor again, spinning so fast it makes you laugh. "What did you say? I can't hear you from your high horse– woah!" 

Miguel grabs the back of your chair, bringing you to a sudden and firm stop. You blink hoping it'll assuage the dizziness between your eyes, and when it doesn't work you keel forward, muttering, "Woah, I'm gonna die." 

"You won't die." 

"How do you know?" you ask. 

"You're under my watch, aren't you?" 

"I knew you liked me," you say. "Oh, I don't feel well." 

"You brought it on yourself." 

You catch your breath. When you feel okay enough to stand you almost trip, and Miguel doesn't bother pretending that he had any intention of stopping you from landing flat on your face. The you before the spider bite would've wiped out. This you giggles and holds Miguel's elbow for a second while you plant your feet. 

"Okay, boss-man," you ask, looking up at the unnaturally high screen he's investigating. "What are we doing today?" 

"I'm supervising a task force operation on Earth-31913. You're going home." 

"Miguel," you say, not sure if you want to flirt with him or piss him off. He looks incredibly pissed off already, so you choose flirtation. "Have I told you how handsome you look this evening?" 

He doesn't react. His hands don't so much as shift where they're akimbo on his hips. 

"You really have the most handsome eyes," you continue, weaving around his arm to stand in front of him. You have to crane your neck to see them. "Sulky. Do I really have to go home? I'd rather stay here with you." 

He looks down his nose at you. "Yeah?" he asks quietly, his voice rough as hewn stone.

"Yeah," you say, taking a small step back. 

"And do what?" 

You mirror his stance, hands on your hips. Your suit isn't form fitting like his, doesn't showcase nearly so much lean muscle, but you like it. You'd chosen a simple black ensemble to match the spider who bit you with a pinky purple heart over your stomach. Miguel had asked about it once, just once, when you'd first met and he had no idea how much of a problem for him you were going to become. 

Why there? 

Why do you think? you'd asked, giving him a sticky-sweet smile. 

Forget I asked. 

He lifts a hand to your chin, pinching it between two deft fingers. You're lucky he isn't wearing his gloves; his claws would pierce your jaw. 

"What do you want to do?" he asks, again so quietly. "If you stay?" 

"I could help with the task force." 

"That's what you want to do?" 

You flush with heat but refuse to let him know how you're feeling. Your heart bumps against your ribs, breath caught in your throat as he tilts your head up, as he leans down. 

"No," he says near your lips, "that's not it." 

"I could help you?" you offer. 

Something flashes in his eyes. You hesitate to call it lust. It reminds you of a cat with a mouse in it’s clutches, only his pupils are blown, black and inky and wide as dimes. 

"You want to help me?" he asks, his lips an inch, half of that from yours. 

You nod minutely. "Yes," you say under your breath. 

His hand moves to your cheek. He leans in closer and closer, until there's a hair's width of air between his mouth and yours, the tips of your noses bent together. His breath fans over your bottom lip and it's hot. You swear you can feel his heart as his chest presses to yours. He lingers there for an endless handful of seconds, silently egging you on.

You call his bluff and refuse to close the distance. 

Miguel pushes you away from him, far from cruel but certainly not sweet. "I have a tower of paperwork you can file," he says. 

"Here I thought you were finally going to bite my head off," you hum. "You're a sore loser, Miguel." 

"And you're my pest," he says, holding your gaze for a half-second too long. He turns away. "Lyla? Arrange the recounts from the last canon event for Spider-Girl's perusal, please." 

"So you've remembered I'm here?" Lyla asks wryly.

You don't mind the paperwork. You sign each one with a winky face and a pink gel pen heart, knowing Miguel will go over them all again, and knowing he'll grow angrier and angrier with each heart.

He'll kiss you and mean it one day. You just have to play the waiting game.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

thanks so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed!

[yanderecrazysie]

Twisted Zoo Ending Two: Our Angelfish

NOTE FOR MAINLY QUOTEV: Please stop asking for updates. It’s incredibly stressful and considered rude by most authors. I understand and honored that you’re excited to read my story, but please stop saying “Update?” and things like that. I don’t know when the next update will be, probably within a month.

This is based on the stories of a keeper reader with the octotrio by @ashensgrotto and @merakiui .

I am no longer doing tags. Tumblr hates me and I’d rather not waste my time when there are so many! You can keep up to date on Twisted Zoo on Tumblr, Quotev, Wattpad, or AO3.

WARNINGS: yandere themes

Note: For Tumblr, the mature version of the endings (the afterendings) will begin sometime after I finish all the normal endings.

Note 2: I think they’ll all be short. Sorry. Also not even trying to go in order at this point.

When you stepped through the employee’s entrance to the aquarium, you could tell something was wrong right away. The water had steam rising from it and the room felt uncomfortably warm, reminding you slightly of the savannah.

Azul surfaced in the middle of the tank, his chin just above the hot sea water, and Floyd and Jade surfaced near the edge.

You walked closer and dropped to your knees at the platform’s edge, sticking your fingers into the water. Yes, it was definitely very warm.

“Is there something wrong with the tank?” you wondered aloud.

“No, angelfish, everything is perfect,” Azul said smoothly.

Immediately, clawed hands grabbed each of your arms, so tightly you were sure they’d leave marks, and pulled. You fell headfirst into the water and swallowed a lungfull of sea water before you could react properly. The salt stung your eyes and your lungs already ached for air since you hadn’t had time to hold your breath.

Your arms were released for a moment and you surfaced, gasping for precious air, then choking as Azul poured something into your gaping mouth. You stared at the octopus and he grinned at you unashamedly.

“What was that? What did you make me drink?” you asked, trying not to panic. Surely it was just something to help you breathe again or something? Right? Azul wouldn’t do anything to harm you, would he?

You started to swim back to the platform, but Floyd and Jade grabbed your arms again and dragged you further from the edge. “Let go! Now!” you demanded, but they merely chuckled at your plight.

“Let go of me!” you shouted, hysteria starting to rise. Your legs were starting to feel strange, tingling painfully, and you couldn’t move them any longer, held up only by the two eels.

“No, Shrimpy,” Floyd replied, giggling.

You looked to Jade for help.

“It’s time for you to join the family,” Jade replied simply.

You jolted as one of Azul’s tentacles wrapped around your legs, squeezing them together tightly, “We’ve been patient, angelfish, but it’s time now. This is where you belong.”

“Forever!” Floyd added with a loud giggle.

Pain shot through your legs and your skin began to prickle like a thousand needles had been stuck into them. The agony- it felt like your bones were shifting and reshaping themselves!

“Relax, little researcher,” Jade whispered, his warm breath on your ear making you shiver despite the warmth of the water, “It’ll be over soon.”

“Embrace it,” Azul encouraged, “We’ll take such good care of you.”

“Embrace… what?” you asked amidst the pain. Then you looked down at your legs, to see what was causing you so much agony. 

You stopped breathing altogether.

In place of your two legs was a beautiful white tail, much like how you would picture a mermaid’s, but with a silvery, translucent fin at the end of the smooth white scales. 

Beautiful, yes, but wholly unwanted.

You began to scream. At first, it was a wordless, terrified scream, but it turned to calls of help. “Mr. Crowley! Zookeepers! Anyone! HELP! PLEASE!”

You fell silent, trying to hold your breath, as the eel halflings dragged you under the surface. At last, when you could no longer hold your breath, inhaled underwater. You were even more horrified to realize you could breathe through the water with ease now. 

The eels dragged you into a huge sand castle they had built themselves, Azul following. You curled up and began to cry. Who would help you now? Who could help you? 

Somewhere above the surface, watching through the cameras, Mr. Crowley smiled.

He couldn’t wait to advertise his aquarium’s newest and most precious addition: the angelfish halfling that would never leave, as long as Jade, Floyd, and Azul were alive.

[back2bluesidex]

Slide - The Consequences - MYG (18+)

Pairing: Producer!Yoongi X Lyricist!Reader 

Theme: Angst, smut, unplanned pregnancy. Fwb to ?

Word count: 2k+

Summary: 

"I barely make it down the stairs without panic Woah, I won't let it set me off"

Alternatively, 

You are no different than the cigarette between his lips - half-burnt and waiting to be turned into ashes bit by bit with time.

Listened to Slide by Chase Atlantics

Warnings: Extreme angst. I repeat EXTREME angst. One very triggering concept (I'm not mentioning what since it might spoil stuff) but I have tried to keep it as implied as possible.

Minors do not interact!!

Series Masterlist | Masterlist | Patreon (for early access)

Taglist requests are closed for now

A/N: This might break your heart because this is the angstiest chapter yet.

Read the next chapter

“Are you sure you don’t want to add anyone?” Hoseok asks for what feels like a thousand times. Everytime he asks this question, you get a sharp reminder of how you have no one to add as your emergency contact, how you are completely deserted from the rest of the world and how it’s no one’s fault but yours. 

You nod your head in affirmation. To dim the helplessness in your eyes, you smile a little. 

But Hoseok is not convinced as it seems, he only sighs harder. The pen in his hand fall on the patient chart as he intertwines his fingers and looks at you as if he is trying to read your troubles out aloud.

You don’t like it. You don’t like the way he understands you are nowhere near being mentally healthy for motherhood.

“Y/N?” he calls you firmly. The lack of any formal suffix or prefix shocks you momentarily. “You really don’t want to let the father know?” 

You suck in a deep breath. You want to let Yoongi know. You of course do. You want him to be happy, you want him to say “let’s do this together”, you want him to love you back more and more and more and more. 

But you know, this is hardly possible even in your wildest of dreams. 

“He’s happy with the person he loves. I- I don’t want this baby to look like an excuse to come between them. Also…” Marrying, having kids - all these, freaks me out. Yoongi’s words ring in your head like a loud alarm, threatening you to go deaf at any given moment.

“Also?” Hoseok urges you to continue. 

“Nothing.” you give him another weak smile. 

He sighs again. Probably he, too, is done with you and your nonchalant stubbornness. 

“In that case, I am enlisting myself as your emergency contact.” He takes his pen in his fingers again and starts putting down his number in your chart. 

Your eyes go wide, “but will that be okay? I mean-” 

“This is okay. Don’t worry. We usually do this in exceptional cases.” Hoseok gives you an assuring smile. 

“Thank you.” you mumble, embarrassment eats you away. 

“That’s alright, Y/N. don’t forget to take your meds and eat a lot of fruits. Okay?” 

“Okay.”

“And also, just so you know, excessive mental stress is harmful in earlier stages of pregnancy.” 

Your chest tightens. 

“Okay.”  

You usually keep your personal cell silent. Because there is simply no reason not to. 

No one is going to call you and mull over why you aren’t picking up your calls and if anything bad has happened to you or not. 

Not even your mother. She has far more important responsibilities than you have ever managed to be. 

You have a few contacts and a group chat with your high school friends, which you check occasionally. 

That is why your heart threatens to beat out of your chest when you see unread notifications on the surface of your personal phone, that too, from Yoongi. 

He had only messaged you a few times before in this number and all of those were barely a sentence. 

But today he had sent you not one or two but a total set of five different texts, which read: 

Yoongi (15:30): “I heard you are out with an emergency again?”  Yoongi (15:36): “What is it, Y/N? Is something seriously wrong?”  Yoongi (15:38): “Please, let’s talk.”  Yoongi (15:50): “Will you please stop ignoring me?”  Yoongi (16:05): “I will be waiting for you at the terrace. If you can, come before 5.” 

Your eyes close as you leave a loud exhale out of your mouth. For a moment you question your decision of coming back to the company and make up for the time you were out. You could have just taken a sick leave. Or maybe if you checked your phone half an hour ago, you would have avoided this whole ordeal. 

But right now you are in the parking lot of the building and you will have to go inside. 

And you know very well, once you are inside, the invisible threads of your body that are connected to Min Yoongi will start pulling you towards the terrace. 

It’s 4:24 now.. So he is still supposedly waiting at the terrace. 

Maybe Yoongi is right. You should talk to him. What will you say, though, you don’t know. 

Or maybe you should just listen to him, as always, let him do the talking and see how his speeches have changed since the last time, since the time when both of you were alone. 

It’s only you, who is alone now, who is troubled. 

You have always loved Yoongi’s side profile, the soft slope of his nose, the half crescent of his lips, but then again, there’s hardly anything about Yoongi you have not not loved. 

However, right now as you watch him in the glow of the setting sun, with a half-burnt cigarette in between his lips, you wish you wouldn’t have loved him so much. 

Because, now, you are no different than the cigarette between his lips - half-burnt and waiting to be turned into ashes bit by bit with time. 

But can you though? Your life is not only yours anymore. Your life is now intertwined with another living mechanism and you are far too lost in your head to be prepared for it. 

Do you really want the baby? Or do you just want to keep a trace of a fleeting thing that Yoongi had for you? 

If it’s the second then isn’t it unfair for the unborn life? 

Will you be able to love it when you can’t even love yourself? When you can’t associate anyone else with the word ‘love’ other than Yoongi himself? 

“Hey. you came..” Yoongi’s voice pierce through the dark clouds of your thoughts. His words are laced with doubts, there is a frown in between his brows and now that he is facing you completely, you can see bags under his eyes. 

You don’t even want to think about what's keeping him up at night. 

“You wanted to talk.” you finally start walking towards him with legs so heavy that it feels as if your body will fall over their weight. 

Yoongi crushes his cigarette under his shoes, like you have let him crush your hearts in those pretty hands of his. 

Once there is no smoke lingering in the air, you step near his vicinity. 

“Yeah. but the way you have been ignoring me, I didn’t think you would come.” there is a hint of hurt in his voice. 

You don’t reply anything, rather you let your eyes get lost in the maze of concrete ahead, tall buildings aspiring to touch the sky but failing regardless. 

From your peripheral vision you can see Yoongi stepping closer to you, opening his mouth to say something and then closing it again. He probably shuts his eyes for a brief second then opens it with determination burning in them. 

“Y/N, what's wrong? I heard you have been taking leaves for regular checkups at the hospital? Are you… are you hurting?” Yoongi speaks with one of those soft tones that he hardly uses for anyone. 

It’s not the first time he is using it for you, but it sways you a little anyway. 

“I am fine, Yoongi. But I don’t understand what is up with you? Why are you suddenly so worried about me? Why are you suddenly caring as if… as if I mean something to you?” you ask him calmly, waiting for a valid answer. 

“I have always cared about you.” 

“But that was when we were- we were sleeping, right? Now you don’t have any obligations towards me. So please. Please stop confusing me. Please stop making me a fool.” you let a lone tear escape from your eye. This time doing nothing to stop it. 

“How is this even confusing, Y/N? Friends care for each other. Don’t they?” Yoongi’s voice weaves and you don’t know why. 

You chuckle dryly, “sadly enough, you are not just my friend. I am in love with you and you know that too.” 

Yoongi’s eyes widen. He takes a tentative step away from you as if staying near you will turn him into a stone; and that breaks your already broken heart even more. 

“Y/N- I-”

“I know. I know you don’t- You don’t have to. I just- I am a fool. I am sorry.” Now you are sobbing uncontrollably. Your eyes give out after holding onto your tears for a year. 

Yoongi takes a step towards you, holds you by your shoulders but now his touches burn. Your body burns under his fingers and you want to run away - run away as far as possible. 

“Y/N” his voice trembles yet again.

You hastily wipe your tears with your sleeves and run away in the opposite direction towards the flight of stairs. 

He calls your name to stop you but doesn’t come running behind you. You note that. 

Yoongi will never chase you. You are not Gyuri after all. 

Once you are half down the stairs, you sit down, try to control your breathing, convince yourself that it’s not good for the baby. 

The baby. The baby. The baby. 

Should you not tell Yoongi about the baby? At least inform him? And then he can decide if he wants to accept it with you or leave it behind too? Just like you? 

But this is not yours alone. He came to you that night and left a life inside you as an aftermath.

You stand up, deciding to take a shot, not for you but for the unborn life, which deserves the equal part of attention from its other parent too. 

If there are consequences. You will face it all. 

Climbing up the stairs, as you take a few steps towards where you left Yoongi behind. 

You see him again. 

But this time, he is not alone. He is with Gyrui, who is holding on to his body so tightly as if her life depends on it.  

Their lips are molded with each other. 

Her fingers are lost in his dark locks, his hands are placed on her side as if he is not sure what he is doing. 

You stand there. 

You stand there watching them numbly. And when you decide to turn and leave, you have nothing left inside of you. 

Your body is now a shell of something that looks like you. 

You decide to take the stairs all the way down until your legs give out. 

Your back slides down the wooden door of your bedroom. 

You let out a thunderous scream and that is closely followed by wailing. 

You cry. You cry for all the times you have loved Yoongi. You cry for all the times he didn’t even look at you. You cry for the time when Gyuri came back. You cry for the time when Yoongi left that night. You cry for today when he clearly chose Gyuri over you even when you knew this was your destiny. 

You cry because Yoongi can’t be yours and today finally ends a lot of things. 

You don’t know for how long you cry. But all the tears have left you feeling weary. 

You climb on your bed and drift off to a slumber. 

And you dream. 

You dream of yourself, and Yoongi and a baby hand that’s holding his fingers. Yoongi is smiling, he is happy. 

Then you dream of a big wave, drowning you - Yoongi and the hand of the baby have disappeared. 

When you wake up, your body is drenched in sweat, so much so that even the back of your thighs feel wet. 

The pain in your body is piercing.

But when you manage to sit up - you see a pool of blood soaked in your clothes and sheets. 

The last trace of Yoongi that you were trying hard to preserve, is gone too now.  

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[nellielsss]

ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴀᴘᴛᴀɪɴ'ꜱ ꜰᴀᴠᴏʀɪᴛᴇ ˳༄꠶

Summary: Your captain loves nothing more than spending the night with you in his bed! Although, he wishes that you weren't so hellbent on keeping this thing a secret... A drabble semi-inspired by Touch My Body by Mariah Carey only it's much more intimate and less playful. Author's note: the amount of brainrot I've been having over Yami omfg 😭 😭 I've been OBSESSED with Black Clover and it's possibly worse than JJK... speaking of, I know this doesn't include the JJK crowd, but a girl can still explore her interests!! This also might be very ooc for Yami but IDGAF this is my perception of him. IDGAF if this flops I JUST NEED HIM TO FUCK ME ALL NIGHT LONG!!!!! Pairing: Yami Sukehiro x fem!reader CW: gentle sex, pet names, praising

🪽 Nσɯ ρʅαყιɳɠ…

"Thwap. Thwap. Thwap."

╰┈➤ Those were the sounds that were echoing throughout the Captain's quarters, and there was no way one could mistake them for the sound of anything but Captain Yami's thick, monstrous cock thrusting in and out of you.

"Y-Yami~ Captain Yami~" you gasped, looking over your shoulder at the Captain of the Black Bulls as he fucked--no, made love to you. For a guy who weighed close to 230 pounds, he could be quite gentle with you in bed.

And he had to be, because there was no way that he could harm his pretty little Bull, not when he A. needed you to go out on a mission soon and B. desperately wanted your trust. The latter reason was his cover for going slow if asked about it, at least, because the real reason was much more embarrassing for the prideful captain to admit.

He was in love with you, of course! He's actually had a crush on you ever since he saw you, but he'd never admit to it; he had a reputation to uphold.

"There you go, you've got it, sweets," he said in that deliciously husky voice of his as he gripped your hips and moved you back and forth on his girth. "Fuck, I don't even know how I could repay you for this, pretty girl... letting some big, ugly brute like me have a sweet taste of your body," he murmured, leaning down and pressing sweet kisses to your neck. "Don't even know why you'd agree to see me in private and let me do you in like this, you're way too fucking amazing for me," he thought aloud with a dry chuckle. Even in the throes of passion, he still found a way to be self-deprecating.

"Y-You're not ugly, S-Suke- gah~!" you gasped, feeling him press the head of his cock against your sweet spot for a few moments.

"Whatever you say, princess," he chuckled, relishing the feel of your spongy spot against his tip. "Fuuuck, looks like I found your sweet spot, eh? I'll make sure to make it even sweeter," he added, pulling your hips closer and thrusting as deep as he possibly could.

You buried your face in the pillows that he'd bought for your comfort, much too embarrassed by the sounds you were making. "I don't want my captain losing any sleep when there's missions to be completed," was what you told him when you were at the market.

So sweet to him, was what he first thought. Even when you were practically insulting him with your "compliments," he could still see right through the prickliness and find the gooey inside of your words. He'd never had anyone care for him like this--not since the Wizard King was his captain, and that was because the King had a weird obsession with his dark magic. Sure, you were bound by the respect expected of a captain's subordinate, but you took it a step further and personally cared for him.

He knew it from the moment you joined the Black Bulls and showed what you were made of that he'd somehow get you in his arms & his bed, and when that day came, it was the happiest day of his life, because now he could make sweet, sweet love to you every single night. Even when you complained and made a fuss about it, he could just throw you over his shoulder and carry you to his bedroom.

His sheer strength came in handy, because now he was giving you deep, steady strokes, his thick, tanned cock rubbing against your walls deliciously, making you feel things you didn't think were humanly possible

For such a brute, he could be so sweet, but that was because he wanted to repay you for your sweetness.

"Hey, pretty, don't hide your face from me," he crooned, gently grabbing your chin mid-stroke and making you look at him. He smiled fondly when he caught the unabashed love and lust in your eye, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "I wanna see my pretty when I make her eyes roll back in her head."

There was it, that cocky streak that he had.

His cockiness could be justified, though; with the sounds you were making, one could imagine that you were ascending to heaven.

"D-Don't tease m'like that, Y-Yami, you know how... flustered I get," you whimpered, stuttering while trying to make your thoughts known. It was so impossible to speak or even think properly with the way he was digging into your guts.

"I know, I know, pretty, but good god is it amazing to see you melt away when I fuck your pretty brains out," he said, the words flowing off his tongue like honey.

He leaned down again and pressed his lips to yours this time, his huge arms wrapping around you even tighter and holding you to him. Was it blatant favoritism? Yes; was it probably going against the rules? Also yes; but neither of you cared, not even a little right now.

Not when he could make his subordinate moan his name over and over again when he made her cum.

His abs flexed and relaxed, his pecs felt hard and soft against your back, and you were just loving every single second of this. No matter how bratty or prickly you got with him, there was nothing like having him dick you down every single night without a care in the world, knowing that you could come to him any time you needed some stress relief or a shoulder to cry on or a dick to ride on. Looking at you now while he sat up straighter, hand still on your head and guiding you back and forth on his cock, he smiled softly once more. In that moment of sweet, unabashed bliss, Yami Sukehiro vowed to someday make you his officially, to show the world that you were his prized girlfriend, the woman who made his heart melt every time he so much as sensed your Ki.

His thoughts were interrupted by that familiar feeling of you squeezing and spasming around his thick pole. "Y-Yami, please-"

"I know, baby, I've got you, I've got you. Yami's got you," he murmured, leaning down to kiss you softly on the lips, his nose burying in your hair and sighing softly. "C'mon, cum on your captain's cock."

Those words were enough to make you arch your back and throw your head back with a loud, heavenly moan, babbling out his name while tears flowed down your cheeks.

"There we go, thaaat's it, cum on m'cock like I know you wanna," he cooed a bit louder this time. Watching and feeling you cum around his cock never got old, and it was enough to make him cum as well with a raspy grunt. "Shit, baby, you got me cumming so soon. I was gonna wait, but, oh well; might as well say fuck it," he said after emptying his balls into your eager hole.

He sighed a sigh of relief once his orgasm passed, and he pressed several kisses to your neck while chuckling softly. "Goddamn it, princess--I fuckin' love you."

"Love you too, Yami," you murmured, too fucked out of your head to even process the aftermath of your heavenly orgasm.

"I know you do," he whispered, rolling you over and kissing you. He kissed your lips over and over again, his cock still buried deep inside of you. "One day, I swear to god, I'll show the world how much I love you. Make all those other uptight captains wish that they had what we have."

Possibly the best part of your night was when you fell asleep in his arms, his body entirely entangled with yours all sweaty and sticky. No matter how sticky you were, he would never give a shit about it. He'd hold you just the same.

"So pretty when you sleep," he said with a soft kiss to the forehead.

Your dear friend and fellow Black Bull, Vanessa, didn't miss the soft glow that graced your gorgeous features when you made your way into the dining hall and to breakfast. "Good morning," you said to everyone with a smile on your face, grabbing a plate and getting the food that you were in need of.

"Is it just me, or is she way nicer than she normally is?"

"Right? Her mood's usually worser than Yami's, especially in the morning..."

"It must be nice to be in love," Vanessa sighed, setting aside her bottle of alcohol for a moment. The other Bulls looked at Vanessa with confusion, the observation making them look at each other as well.

"The hell is she talkin' about?"

© ʙʀᴜɴᴇᴛᴛᴇ-ʙɪᴛᴄʜ77 on tumblr - get your own shit bitches | ca. 6/18/2024

[2-dsimp]

Who would baby trap mc? Asking for science.

🤓

『Featuring Babytrapping with the Hitman Team』

——;——;————;———-

Cw: 🔞NSFW MDNI! Fem reader! Baby trapping,

——;——;————;———-

Would Babytrap you intentionally

——;——;————;———-

Bjorn the Strategist: As the strategist of the team it’d only be fitting for him to intentionally plan. On knocking you up to make sure you’ll forever be inclined to stay with him. But only after doing some intensive research about child rearing and pregnancy. So he’s able to provide you with everything you may need and ensure that both you and his child are safe and sound.

Yujin the hacker: he’d be upfront with you on his plans of knocking you up. With a childish grin on his face, the hacker will straight up tell you that he’s going to get you pregnant. So that he can finally get a tasteful of your breast milk. His openness would dupe you into thinking he was joking since Yujin’s always been a prankster at times. So really you can’t blame him if he did exceed in doing exactly as he told. since he made sure to give you a prior notice ahead of time.

——;——;————;———-

Would Babytrap you unintentionally

——;——;————;———-

Ossian the sniper: don’t get me wrong he loves you dearly. So much in fact that in his sleep. He’ll go as far as to make sure you feel how deep his love for you goes until you’re filled up like a cream puff. The funny part is that when you’re holding up a positive pregnancy test in Ossian’s face he’d think he was dreaming. And would promptly wish aloud that he’d never wake up. Since the dream of having a family with you would make him feel as if he’s floating on cloud nine.

Vincent the Enforcer: would be so wrapped up in how good you felt going in raw. That he’d completely forget to pull out, and would mutter apologies underneath his breath. Whilst continuing to bust his thick spurts of jizz inside your squelching cunt. Saying how he can’t help himself and promising with butterfly kisses. Against your neck that he’d be a good daddy and take care of both you and the baby.

Danny the boss: this otaku cannot cope with how turned on you make him feel on a daily basis. He’d be so desperate to have more of you, to get balls deep inside. That place he calls heaven in between those thighs of yours. To the point of where his fat tip would break through the condom and make him nut prematurely inside you. From instantly being exposed to your depths. After Seeing the positive pregnancy test, Danny would faint like a damsel in distress. Due to an extensive nosebleed at the mere vision he had of you having baby bump. His baby bump

——;——;————;———-

Wouldn’t try to Baby trap you.

——;——;————;———-

Moros the Torturer: would never try to baby trap his sunshine. He’d want to make sure of having kids is what you’d so desire. So if you want kids you’ll have to reassure Moros constantly that you’d want to have a family with him. Since he’d hate to do anything that would cause you any kind of harm or discomfort. He knows that pregnancy can affect you long term and is well versed in the risks. So he’d never put your wellbeing in jeopardy despite how he truly yearns for a big family.

Koji the medic: is meticulous when it comes to sex, he’ll make sure that no happy accidents. will happen under his watch since he doesn’t particularly like to idea of having kids. Nor does he plan to entertain the idea of losing his dearest nurse to birthing a parasite. If push comes to shove he’ll definitely choose to toss the whole kid away than to ever risk lose his darling.

[strawberrystepmom]

gojo x f!reader are married. he refers to readers breasts and makes a lewd joke. divider by cafekitsune my most beloved | wc 822

“That one looks like you.”

Squeezing Satoru’s bicep where your hand rests against it, arm looped through his, you giggle and shake your head. The statue in front of you is flesh made marble, a woman with thighs that maybe on a really good day resemble yours so painstakingly crafted that crowds gather to see her. She’s beautiful, a depiction of a goddess from fables you are both vaguely familiar with.

Is this really how he sees you? It makes those same butterflies he always manages to create stir in your belly and you wrinkle your nose, taking a peek up at him but looking away to admire the beauty depicted in front of you.

“You’ve already charmed me, Satoru. You don’t have to tell tall tales.” His gaze shifts from the sculpture to you, something you can feel rather than witness. He scoffs and tilts his head, shifting from standing beside you to in front of you, arms still linked together.

 “You always say that when I compliment you. Why?”

Laughing, you reach to pinch his side with your freehand and he dodges just in the nick of time. It’s preventative, he always giggles and causes a scene when you touch the tender ticklish spot right at his hip bone, and a museum in another country on a trip the two of you had to bend your schedules to go on is not the place to have a tickle fight. He traps your hand in his and deposits it at your side with a smug half smile.

“Let’s not get into it right now. I’ll just say thank you for the compliment and we can move on.”

Never one to take being put off gracefully, he crowds against you until there is zero space between your bodies. You worry about the PDA being seen as offensive or too much and glance around the mostly empty on a weekday museum where everyone else is fairly ignorant of your existence. It’s just the two of you, as always and not just in your head this time. Smiling, you let him embrace you and rest his balled hands against the small of your back, your entire body leaning into his side.

“You know, I’d have a house full of sculptures and paintings of you just like that if you’d let me,” he mumbles under his breath to bait you. You laugh aloud, pressing your cheek to his arm. “What, nude?” He sticks his tongue out of the corner of his mouth and raises his eyebrows over the tops of his sunglasses. “Obviously. Or clothed or in a gown or in water or tangled in our bed sheets.” 

Pausing to take a breath, he’s surprised to see you already looking up at him when he gazes down at you. He wishes he could capture this with more than just his eyes, his phone and heart. He has painted you before and would create a thousand more odes to his beauty if he had more time on his hands and you’d let him. You’re so eager to disbelieve your own beauty, you haven’t sat to be painted by him in years. 

Satoru makes a mental note to rectify that as soon as the two of you get home but continues to speak now that he has your undivided attention, smirking, all dimples and mischief and the things you love the most about him, the tenderness in your glance a reflection of how you feel.

“I’m just saying. I’m sure I could find some sculptor to carve my pretty wife and would do those,” he glances down at your chest and you roll your eyes half-heartedly, still wearing the smile he put on your face with his casual comparison of your likeness to that of a goddess. “The artistic justice they deserve.”

Despite the tongue in cheek joking, he can be such a romantic when he wants to be. You kind of feel he’s laying it on a little thick because you’re on vacation but what’s the harm in having fun when it is luxuriously just the two of you, the rarity that it is?

Smiling up at him, you offer a better solution.

“Maybe they can sculpt both of us. We can see if they’ll do that,” you subtly reach down and pat just below his belt buckle before he can swat at your hand or turn on his Infinity to keep you away, pulling your hand away as quickly as you can. “Some justice too.”

Now that’s an idea he appears to like, his smirk sliding into a full smile. You pat his arm and separate yourself from him, only to be met with a whine. You reach behind you and grab his hand, fingers intertwining as naturally as they always do, pulling him along with you.

“Now let me show you which one reminds me of you,” you tease him, smiling over your shoulder. 

[gay-dorito-dust]

Imagine Bill/Stanford x a clumsy reader who is constantly getting injured or stumbling and bumping into something.

Going on a long hike? Reader falls and busts their fuckin knee. Walking by the fridge after grabbing a snack? Slips over a puddle of water and breaks their wrist.

I'm genuinely curious as to how they would respond separately, constantly having to deal with reader's shit.

Love your content, by the way. Keep up the good work! :D 💗

Bill cipher

Finds it funny, after all pain is hilarious to him but it’s made even more funnier if someone else is doing it to themselves.

Don’t expect him to help you in any way shape or form, he’s like one of those friends who’ll laugh as you fall down the stairs before ever thinking of helping you back up.

But in this instance he just leaves you in pain and gets all bothered when you’re all healed up again, claiming that you’re not as fun as you are when you’re injured. So I’d watch your step for the next couple of days for banana peels or anything that could cause you physical harm.

You’re his very own version of you’ve been framed with how often you managed to end up hurting yourself over near enough everything, so much so that he just develops a sixth sense when you’re about to hurt yourself and appears just in time to whiteness it with some deer teeth.

Needless to say Bill will find your sprained ankles, busted kneecaps and broken arms hilarious and might even record his favourite ones to look back on when he’s bored to reminisce over the good times. (I don’t know what else you expect of me for him. It’s bill cipher, he’s the least helpful dude in existence)

Stanford Pines

Poor guy had gotten more and more grey hairs because of how accident prone you are. He would like you very much in one piece thank you very much.

Also he’s got good reflexes for a man of his age and would most likely be able to catch you by the arm or the waist before you even fall or trip while asking if you were okay with the most concerned look upon his face.

He’ll gladly let you use him as crutch when you’ve tripped and busted your knee or sprained your ankle, anything that he could do to make sure that you were in less pain then you already were, Ford will do it in a heartbeat in hopes that he’d never have to do this again. Only to later come to terms that he was with the most clumsiest person in all of Gravity Falls, and that he would be used as your personal crutch constantly.

After a couple more accidents and Ford is already carrying a makeshift first aid kit and had done intensive research on all he needed to deal with things like bruises, cuts and sprains just for you. However he’ll always try to move you away from any and all potential hazards, only for him to look back at you to see that you’ve somehow managed to trip on thin air and bruise your chin.

You’re lucky this man loves you dearly because you had proven yourself to be a handful at some cases, but Ford knew it wasn’t your fault and would never make it out to be your fault in the slightest. And yet the temptation to baby proof everything -especially the lab- was strong within him, but would rather keep an eye on you himself to make sure you somehow didn’t hurt yourself on the corner of a table or counter.

He only knew you would because you did bump into the corner of a table once and tried to hide it from him, but he knew you better then most and immediately gets an ice pack for your bruise. At this point you being accident prone was about as normal as waking up to being covered in Mabel’s stickers or almost tripping over Waddles because he was sleeping nearby.

Yes you once tripped over waddles because he was sleeping near your bed once, did you hurt yourself? Obviously. Did Ford have to take care of you? Of course he did but he didn’t mind taking care of you now and then as you did the exact same whenever he got himself hurt. You weren’t aloud in certain places without Ford because there was too much where you could hurt yourself on, that and Ford didn’t feel like having a heart attack every five seconds you came even remotely close to injuring yourself. Again.

He kisses your bruises and cuts. Fight me I’m in a soft mood.