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tswhiisftteedr · 5 days

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Not to be rude but you accidentally put val's story in vox's masterlist instead. Srry I didn't feel comfy dming you. Nothing against you at all I'm just a coward wanting to hide in anon haha. Ig while I'm here could I get vox general hcs pls?

What the Tv do? ☆ Vox General Headcanon + Drabbles (SFW & NSFW)

☆ Vox General headcanon + Vox x Gn!Reader(Employee!Reader??):

Some general thoughts about the tv man and also his relationship with the ‘reader’. This is silly, this is fun, fluffy and smutty.

Warnings: Mature Content, Not Proofread, Drinking, Death(literally overdose on coffe nothing gruesome), Drug use(c0caine and others substances), Sadistic Tendencies, Dub-Con, Power Imbalance/Power Play, Obsessive and Possessive Tendencies and Acts, Stalking, Voyeurism & Exhibitionism, Boss x Employee, Pet Play?(Just collaring and slight animal based pet names), Valentino.

Words: Total: 5496 = Sfw - 2609 + Nsfw - 2887

Note: I only wrote 1 drabble, i might add more if people request it about the specific headcanon they want more on. so I’m not good with request like these, I like when they are more specific so I have sort of something to base my writing on, so sorry if you anon or people don’t like what I’ve wrote, r.i.p. >:/ Though tell me if you want more!!

☆ more under the cut. ☆

SFW:

☕︎ Coffee addict and 𓏊 Alcoholic

Vox is the figurative and quite literally incarnation of the ‘don’t talk to me until I’ve had my coffee’ phrase.

But we’re talking coffees instead of coffee with him — two cups straight out of bed to be precise. When totalling the day’s consumption, Vox indulges on average, 6-7 cups of 10 oz coffee; in addition to his morning coffees, he likes to have a mid-morning cup, then two during lunch and finally 1-2 cups during the afternoon depending how late he is working.

Is this per say, ‘healthy’? No, not at all, Vox couldn't care less — worst ‘worst’ case scenario, he quote on quote dies, the coffee he had intake ends up intoxicating him due to the splurging amount of it, turning this mondaine drink into a lethal liquid for the overlord’s body. His heart would stop, sub-consequently, him and his body would be out.

Though the good thing — or bad, it all depends on your angle — about hell is that in about the span of 10 minutes his body will have fully regenerate and be back open for business. Some sinners call it it a curse, he calls it a blessing, as this part of the ‘eternal punishment’ practically makes him immortal.

So is he going to work on regulating his caffeine intake? Obviously not!

Worst thing he gets from his ‘little problem’ is a heart attack, and they don’t permanently keep him down. — Sure, they hurt like a bitch, and he would rather not be having them at all to be truthful.

But he honestly he doesn’t see his bimonthly cardiac arrests as that steep of a price to pay. (Honestly how can such a smart businessman be so dumb about his health. * face palming and baffled at the idiocy of it all *)

Now when alcohol is the subject of conversation, Vox takes a slightly different approach, albeit one still characterized by overindulgence.

You see, he prides himself on being the epitome of a charming, classy, and self-controlled casual drinker, compared to his drunkard of a pattern —Valentino— our lovely show host with anger issues and both inferiority and superiority complex is a sophisticated and savvy man.

However, beneath this facade of self-control, which he upholds quite well to the public eye, hides his obvious alcoholism issues.

While he may not be stumbling and blubbering around, picking fights,— in most instances at least— Vox is certainly what you might call a “day drinker."

In fact, this is actually a canonical trait, which was displayed in episode two of the show; Him discussing with others Vees on how to deal with the radio demon’s comeback, a drink in hand.

I presume thatit was a scotch on the rocks due to it’s colour but also it’s historical relevance in relation to Vox’s person— Scotch whisky poured over ice, gained popularity in the 1950s primarily in Western countries such as the United States, the United Kingdom, and Canada.

It became a symbol of sophistication and leisure, often enjoyed in upscale bars, clubs, and lounges frequented by the affluent and fashionable crowd of the era.

Additionally, its popularity was bolstered by the rise of cocktail culture during the mid-20th century, as well as the increasing availability of Scotch whisky in international markets. — this fits quite nicely Vox’s character as it is both a drink of his time on earth but also one that remains relevant in the contemporary era.

It easily mirrors Vox's overarching desire to maintain relevance and significance, both in the present and in the ever-evolving future.

The overlord definitely adhere to ‘it’s five o’clock somewhere’ religiously. Though he does prefer to enjoy his daily drink around 5 p.m. PRT (Pride Ring Time).

He will occasionally enjoys a drink with his lunch, often opting for wine, although this isn't a regular occurrence for the man.

As someone constantly under stress, with his mind racing to keep up with the ever-changing trends and opinions in hell, Vox is a type to indulge in a nightcap or two before bed.

It helps him unwind and achieve the relaxed state of mind necessary for a restful night's sleep.

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 Sleep

While the notion of ‘Vox's dreams playing on his screen while he's asleep’ is an amusing concept for fanfiction or artwork, I personally find the idea of ‘the VoxTek logo bouncing around like the DVD logo’ to be more fitting for Vox.

Before delving further, it's important to note that initially, it wasn't necessarily the VoxTek logo projected on his screen; however, I'll address this shortly.

The reason I lean towards the DVD logo concept is because I find it unlikely that Vox's screen would be completely black during sleep. A completely dark screen would imply the device is completely off, no energy is being received or given by it, which would suggest that it is no longer alive. Having some activity on Vox’s screen while asleep would signify that his program is still active, indicating he's still functioning, essentially alive.

Now regarding the widely shared headcanon, I have my own personal take on it.

When Vox first manifested in hell, his 'real name' appeared on screen. By 'real name,' I mean the one he had on Earth, which I believe wasn't Vox —That name seems too futuristic for a person born in the early 1900s or the kind of name you'd associate with a 1950s businessman— Vox is a name he chose for himself after death, symbolizing a fresh start, though I do think that his real name might also have started with a V.

(This perspective extends to other 'Vees' as well, although Velvette seems more plausible as a given name, I suspect it might not be her original one. Valentino, on the other hand, feels like a name assigned to him, but he too might have adopted a new one after death.)

Initially, Vox was unaware of his old name appearing on his screen while he slept since he wasn't conscious during that time. It wasn't until about half a year into his time in hell, during which he introduced himself as Vox to everyone, that one of his acquaintances pointed out this aspect of his physiology. Something along the lines of "Who's V———?" or "Why does V——— show on your screen while you sleep?" triggered a cascade of reactions in him.

Firstly, he panicked, realizing that people had access to his old identity. Secondly, he was puzzled by this phenomenon since no TV he had encountered displayed such behavior, which was normal considering DVDs weren't invented before 1996. — Hell sure was weird, he possessed technological features as part of his physiology before they were even invented— Lastly, this revelation instilled in him a new fear of sleeping.

This behavior stemmed from Vox's desire to construct a fresh existence in hell, complete with a new identity, image, empire, etc. The thought of others accessing his old name and exploiting it to uncover details about his past, including his behaviors, weaknesses, and tactics, filled him with dread.

As a result, he became hyper-vigilant, refusing to sleep unless he was certain of his solitude, fearing the potential repercussions of his former identity being known.

It wasn't until the mid 1960s that Vox had finally managed to upgrade his system, replacing ‘V———‘ with 'Vox'. However, even after this upgrade, he still harboured reservations about sleeping around others for about a year or two. He feared a potential glitch that could revert his screen to displaying his previous name.

Around the late 1970s he had made an adjustment to this aspect of his body once more, replacing 'Vox' with the VoxTek logo after a certain moth had suggested it.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Sexuality

Our beloved Tv Demon a canonical bisexual man, but I personally believe that while he may have bisexuality as his sexual orientation, — his attraction to men was something he only came to realize after death. Although there were subtle hints of his attraction to the same gender based on how he felt about them, he unfortunately didn't grasp them while still alive;

It would have been the late 1950s, and Vox had been in hell for about a year or two. In his earthly life, he had been with his fair share of women, and even in the "surprisingly not so fiery pits of the underworld," his ability to attract partners hadn't diminished much once got over his TV head appearance and let place for his charming and savvy persona to take over.

His love life seemed unchanged, perhaps with occasional exploration of new kinks, until that fateful night of October 11, 195X...

Vox had gone out for a drink after a grueling day at work, back when he was still toiling away at a low-paying job in an electronics factory, toasters, vacuum, etc. Despite the shitty work he had to go through, he had the perk of taking home broken scraps, which eventually played a role in his rise to success. But let's refocus on his night out, shall we?

He walked into his newfound favorite spot, a comedy bar where he sought solace in laughter and libations after a hard day. Arriving just as the performer began their set, he headed straight to the bar for his usual whiskey on the rocks, with nothing else on his mind. It wasn't until the comedian delivered a particularly hilarious joke that Vox turned to look at them and found his attraction piqued.

It was evident that they were a man with the specific style flashy outfit and makeup they wore. The voice was also a dead giveaway. The person now standing on stage, delivering one funny punchline after another, was a drag queen – a stunning one in Vox's eyes.

He couldn't tear his gaze away; there was something irresistibly captivating about the humorous individual on stage.

After the performance, as they made their way to the bar, Vox seized the opportunity. He introduced himself, and they exchanged pleasantries. They shared drinks and engaged in lively conversation, making for a truly enjoyable night that ended with a bang, quite literally.

In the morning, as clarity returned, Vox couldn't help but feel confused. He had never been attracted to men before, so he initially chalked it up to the alcohol or the fact that his night companion appeared so feminine that he mistook them for a woman.

However, as memories of the night flooded back, he couldn't deny his genuine attraction to every aspect of his partner, even the unmistakably male parts.

Initially, it felt strange to Vox as he reflected on the experience. However, after hours of deep contemplation, everything started to fall into place.

Vox realized he had always felt an affinity towards men, though expressing it as "liking men" might have appeared odd to outsiders. When he used that phrase, it wasn't in the context of sexual or romantic attraction but more of an admiration.

Yet, upon further reflection, he acknowledged that his feelings surpassed mere admiration.

He had never entertained the idea of it being anything akin to sexual or romantic attraction, but his recent encounter forced him to reconsider as he contemplated his life and the events of the previous night.

Vox liked men;

— Vox had always been drawn to the men of his time who exuded masculine confidence and assertiveness, finding their presence alluring and desiring to be in their company constantly.

He liked when they wore classic masculine fashion, such as tailored suits with narrow lapels, fitted jackets, and straight-leg trousers. These outfits oozed sophistication and professionalism, and Vox admired the attention to detail displayed.

Additionally, he liked when men would add classic accessories like fedora hats, skinny ties, cufflinks, and pocket squares to their outfit, they added to the polished and stylish appearance.

The preppy style also appealed to Vox, as he admired men who wore V-neck sweaters, button-down shirts, khaki trousers, and loafers. This style exuded a sense of casual elegance and refinement that he found attractive.

He also had a penchant for rebellious men who embraced a non-conformist aesthetic, often seen in leather jackets, denim jeans, white T-shirts, and motorcycle boots.

Vox liked when men were smart and witty, could keep up with the conversation and also teach something along the way.

Vox liked men who exuded strength and athleticism, finding their ability to handle themselves physically appealing. For instance, witnessing a fistfight between coworkers would stir his emotions, initially attributing his excitement to the violence of the altercation.

However, he would inevitably find himself gravitating towards the winner, intrigued by their display of strength and skill, and feeling drawn to them in some inexplicable way. There was something about winners that captivated him and sparked his desire to get closer to them.

He like men who were daring, adventurous, and unafraid to push boundaries, they appealed to his sense of excitement and thrill-seeking.

He liked men who were ambitious, goal-oriented, and willing to pursue their dreams with determination might have resonated with Vox on a subconscious level.—

After his one-night stand, Vox was determined to clarify things once and for all. Following another grueling day of work, he ventured out again, this time to a gay bar, seeking the company of someone who embodied the traits he found most appealing in men, wanting to ensure it wasn't just the alcohol or the femininity of his previous partner. Without delving into detail, let's just say he had quite the night and afterward, there was no doubt in his mind: ‘he liked women, and he definitely also liked men.’

Following that experience, Vox began seeing more individuals of the same gender. However, he still held onto the notion that while he might be attracted to men, he didn't believe he would be interested in them as anything more than sexual partners. That was until he met Alastor...

Initially, Vox approached the radio demon seeking friendship or perhaps a partnership, given Vox's burgeoning company and rising status as an overlord. However, he soon found himself enamored with Alastor. Unfortunately for Vox, his feelings were not reciprocated. After that, Alastor distanced himself from Vox, leading our TV host to regard his old love as an enemy.

In response to the rejection, Vox decided to cease seeing men altogether, engaging in a series of short-term relationships with women. However, he soon realized he was simply idealizing Alastor and shifted his focus from woman to men for meaningless relationships, attempting to prove to himself that any other man was better than "that Bambi bitch."

But this approach only intensified the emptiness he felt. Recognizing the detrimental effects of his frantic behavior on himself and his company, Vox resolved to regulate and get back on a more business focused path.

The fact that rumours began circulating about his supposed "homoerotic relationships," was also a big push into getting back on track, as a word like that getting out was detrimental to business, since being gay was still stigmatized even in hell, during this time period.

It was around the late 1970s, with the rise of gay rights activism, that Vox began publicly dating men. Coincidentally, this was also when he met and began his business partnership (and more) with Valentino.

𝜗𝜚˚⋆ Names

Vox has a penchant for using endearing or patronizing nicknames, regardless of the gender of his employees. He will refer to them as "sweetheart," "doll face," or simply "doll."

In moments of frustration or when faced with resistance, he's not shy about using terms like "little girl" or "little boy," or even "kid," to belittle those who question him.

Additionally, he might employ terms like "Princess" or "your highness" as forms of condescension, no matter the gender of the person he is addressing.

NSFW

𓊔 Party

Despite Vox's obsession with his and the Vees' image, when it comes to partying, he becomes a total animal — I’m talking ‘The Wolf of Wall Street’ type of wild.

Lavish gatherings marked by obscene spending and excessive drug intake, especially cocaine.

Vox typically indulged in doing lines off his desk or the luxurious crystal table in the lounge. However, what truly exited him was snorting lines off someone, getting his rocks off at their inability to refuse his advances and delighting in the control he exerted as he pinned them down to prevent any squirming.

The slight anxious tears and nervous mewls from whoever served as his snorting surface always stirred something within Vox. While he would grow irritated if they moved too much, the subtle signs of fear, such as the wetting of their eyes and trembling breath, would quickly reignite his unstable emotions. He found himself intensely aroused by their scared state, and more than once, he acted on these desires…

Drabble:

You were a VoxTek employee, more specifically; Vox’s secretary.

As Vox's secretary, navigating Alastor-related tantrums and enduring the grueling hours could be incredibly taxing, but the job itself had its perks.

Thanks to your position in the company, you enjoyed luxurious accommodations in the finest suites the V Tower had to offer.

Despite the challenges, Vox could be surprisingly pleasant, his charismatic charm reminiscent of his earlier days when his hypnosis wasn't as potent. And beneath the unconventional exterior of his TV head, there was no denying the appeal of his well-built physique.

Given the close proximity and constant interaction with Vox, it was inevitable to develop a small crush on your boss. His magnetic presence and the fact he was practically the only person you interacted with regularly since he requested you to work closer to him about three months ago only fueled this infatuation.

You liked your boss, but at this moment, you couldn't stand him;

It was 3 a.m. on a Sunday, the one day of the week you were supposed to have some semblance of off-time, with the luxury of sleeping in until noon.

But instead of enjoying your well-deserved rest in bed, you found yourself reluctantly entering the elevator, begrudgingly making your way to the usually closed-off top floor of the building.

Why? Because you had received a threatening and slightly slurry phone call from your boss, demanding your immediate presence or else face termination.

With your livelihood seemingly hanging in the balance, you complied without questioning, even though you loathed every second of it.

After punching in the code provided, you entered the lounge area of the top floor to find all three Vees lounging about. Valentino was enveloped in smoke, while music filled the air.

"Y/N! So glad you made it! Come 'ere," Vox exclaimed, his gestures frantic, urging you to approach quickly. He appeared laid-back, friendly, and strangely excited, a stark contrast to his usual demeanor of coldness and condescension.

Confusion clouded your expression as you approached the couch, unsure of what to make of Vox's sudden change in behavior. Velvette, noticing your bewilderment, chimed in with an explanation. "He took some MDMA before he called you — actually, he couldn't stop blabbing about your ass once that stuff kicked in," she divulged matter-of-factly, adding another layer of peculiarity to the already bizarre situation.

‘Ah, he’s high — that explains the weird friendliness.’ You thought to yourself.

But before you could dwell on it too long, Valentino's words snapped you out of your thoughts, "Yes, little Voxxy over there couldn't stop talking about how much he wanted his little secretary with him right here. He just had to call you, despite it being the middle of the night. I'm sorry you're losing your beauty sleep right now, cariño," he said, his tone tinged with insincerity from false remorse. A small chuckle escaped his lips as he finished speaking, adding to the surreal atmosphere of the moment.

“Val, Vel! You can’t tell them that! Or they’ll, they’ll… fuck!” Vox began to say, but something mid-sentence seemed to frustrate him.

Before you could question it for too long, Valentino answered that question for you. “They’ll figure out you have a little crush on them. Aww, don’t worry papi, it’s not like they can say no to you either way,” the moth darkly announced, frightening you, as it was technically true that you had to obey whatever order your boss gave you; it was in your contract after all.

To your somewhat relief, Vox scoffed at his part-time boyfriend's comment, as if to convey that he wouldn't behave in such a manner.

"Shut the fuck, Val!" Vox began, his frustration evident, before redirecting his attention back to you. "And you, lay down on the table." Confused by the request, you briefly wondered if he was joking, but the seriousness etched on his face made it clear that he wasn't. Resigned, you followed his instruction and laid down on the table as he commanded.

As soon as you complied, a smile spread across Vox's face. "Good, good. Now be a good little secretary and stay still as I do some lines off you, m'kay?" he instructed.

Before you could process anything or say something, he pushed your shirt all the way up, ending just under your chest, and tugged your bottoms down slightly — exposing your whole stomach.

Attempting to voice your discomfort, you were promptly shushed by Vox. "Shhh, you're being a table for me right now, and last time I checked, tables don't talk, now do they, sweetheart? So be a doll and shut up," he said, eliciting laughter from the two other Vees.

You complied with his instructions and remained silent as you felt him pour some powder onto your abdomen. Knowing the drugs he usually made you order on his behalf, it was probably coke.

With that, he quickly formed about three lines and began snorting them. The sensation felt odd and somewhat ticklish to you, but what you didn't expect was for him to lick the parts of your belly where the powder had just sat — long lines that started from top to bottom, causing you to squirm involuntarily.

Vox didn't appreciate your movement, because ‘how dare his table move?’. In response, he firmly gripped your waist on both sides and forcefully slammed your hips against the table as a warning to ‘stop moving’.

However, his claws dug into your skin, causing you to cry out slightly. Upon seeing the small tears in your eyes, his mood shifted once more, from aggravation to something more lustful.

He relished the sight of you with tears in your eyes, so he decided to inflict a bit more pain. With a predatory glint in his eyes, he bit at your sides, knowing that you couldn't retaliate due to the hierarchical difference between you.

His bites started from the top, gradually getting lower until they ended up just above your crotch. With a slight, heavy breathing, he remarked, "Now what do we have here? A snack for me? You shouldn't have." As he removed your bottoms, leaving you in your underwear, a slight moist patch formed due to the position you were in.

Sure, Vox was an entitled asshole, but god, did he look and sound incredible when he was being mean and bossy. How could you not get aroused, especially when his face and long tongue ass were so close to your intimate parts.

"You want me to play with you, darling?" Vox asked in a manner that almost made it feel like you had a choice. There was something about it that suggested he might respect your decision if you said no—sure, he wouldn't like it, but he definitely had this thing where he wanted you to want him, to beg for him, to need him. Forcing himself on you wouldn't align with that desire.

You nodded, but he tutted at you, wanting a verbal answer. "No, no, no, it's 'Could you please, sir?' or 'Would love to, Mr. Vox,' or 'Please, I need you, Vox.' You've got to speak up if you want me to do anything to you, got it, dollface?" he clarified, emphasizing the importance of explicit consent, whether it was due to genuine respect for your boundaries or just his enjoyment of your yearning for him, it was a bit unclear. However, knowing Vox, he probably just got off on your embarrassment.

"Yes, sir," you said, feeling embarrassed. "So? Do you want me to give some love to these," he asked, tracing the outline of your underwear, "lovely parts?" He perked up.

"I would love for you to, sir," you managed to speak out. With a 'perfect' from your boss, he was now eagerly devouring you with his tongue, sending small pleasurable shocks through you as he did. No part of you down there was left un-licked.

Just as you were about to reach that sweet, sweet release — Vox removed himself from you, causing you to whine at the loss of pleasure.

"Don't worry," he said, but before you could complain too much, Vox lifted you up and threw you onto the couch, your face soon hitting the satin pillows. As you heard the sound of his belt unbuckling, you felt your hips being repositioned, leaving you face down and ass up.

Vox quickly pumped his cock a few times, not needing much as it was already hard from the sight of you writhing due to his tongue. Getting close to your ear, he whispered, "Cuz I'm not done with you, dollface."

Then he promptly shoved himself inside of you. Thankfully, whatever he was doing with his tongue a couple of instances ago had prepped you, because, woof, did the stretch sting.

After giving you a few moments to adjust, he began pounding you into tomorrow, playing with your front and sending small shocks here and there. With no regard for his colleagues sitting right beside him —or should I say colleague, as in singular—Velvette had left as soon as he began working you with his tongue. However, Valentino remained, watching the scene unfold with keen interest.

Your soon came undone due to his rough ministrations, but he was far from done with you...

⫘⫘⫘ Ownership, ⛌⛌⛌ Humiliation & Collar

If you haven't already figured it out yet, Vox is a sadist. He thoroughly enjoys power dynamics and the act of humiliating others.

Continuing from the previous headcanon, picture yourself as either hired as his secretary or as a low-ranking demon in his company who catches his eye. If you're the latter, he'll undoubtedly arrange for you to be transferred to work closer to him.

But anyway, my point is, as soon as you're in his close proximity, he'll literally makes you his bitch on call in the blink of an eye. And obviously, you can't refuse because, one, he's your boss; two, he's an overlord; and three, he's Vox.

Who would refuse that hunk? Even if you weren't initially attracted to him, you'd find yourself becoming so after a couple of weeks, even if it's just some weird mild attraction—you're still into him.

Once he's got you in his grasp and has fucked you at least once, this is when he begins to play with you. He'll make you start wearing a vibrator under your clothes at work, ordering you to remove your clothing every morning and show him, to ensure you did it. Then he'd send you on your merry way.

If he wasn't physically with you, he'd be watching you through his cameras.

And every time you would be talking to someone and he deemed it too long, you weren't paying attention to him, or you were zoning out/getting distracted, he would turn the vibrator on to 'get you back on track'.

Though he did like to sometimes turn the vibrator on just to tease you. For example, you're in the middle of telling him about a shift in his appointment in a room full of people, and he would suddenly turn it on to fuck with you.

He also has a huge thing for pulling you by your soul chain. He just loves, loves, loves summoning it out of nowhere and just tugging you along with it.

For instance, you could be telling him about some issue concerning a recent project, and he would tell you to come closer so he could hear better.

As you walk closer towards his desk, he deems your pace too slow. Without warning, he summons and tugs at the chain around your neck, causing you to fall to the ground.

In an attempt to brace the fall, you put your arms out, catching yourself and ending up on all fours.

But as you try to get up, he would tut at you, ordering you to “Crawl to me.” You’re humiliated, but you still do it as he watches you like a hawk, a satisfied grin on his face.

If you also happen to scrape or bruise yourself when you fell and some small tears form in your eyes, let me tell you, he would get so bricked up as soon as he noticed them.

And of course, he would make you blow him, though it would end up with him face-fucking you, as it usually did.

He would also hold your head down as he dumped his cum down your throat, then he would pull your nose with his free hand, saying that “you don’t get to breathe until you’ve swallowed it all.” And of course, you would do it because you don’t want to literally choke to death on your boss’s dick.

Once he was sure you had swallowed it all, he would finally release you, allowing you to take some air in. Then he would make you stick out your tongue, and he would spit in your mouth, making you swallow that too.

𐂯 Training

He liked using small electrical charges as a ‘training method’, and this method has two stages. This would happen after he already had you as his personal toy— I mean, ‘secretary’.

At first, he uses electricity to reprimand you whenever you weren’t paying attention to him, questioned him, said no to things, or did anything that he considered as bad behaviour.

He would shock you, making you associate ‘bad behavior’ with pain, so you would end up automatically correct yourself before you even do or say something.

If you take a bit too long to ‘adjust’ to this new way of acting, he might resort to a little bit of hypnosis, but he would prefer not to.

He gets off on the fact that he can train you to behave just with his words and actions, without the help of any special ability.

Anyways, when he is sure that he has drilled into you what proper behavior is, he’ll employ phase two. He’ll start training you to enjoy the sting of his electricity.

So, whether he's fucking you, giving you head, touching you, or basically providing any sort of pleasure, every time you would be close to reaching your peak, he would send jolts of electricity through you, gradually increasing the dosage over time.

Things would get to the point that a small shock from him would be enough to get you turned on, and bigger shocks would be able to literally make you cum.

ฅ Pet

For the most part, he wouldn’t see secretary!reader as a partner. It’s only after a while, like a year or more, that he would start considering it.

He views them as his romantic interests, but not on his level. To keep face with the other Vees, even though they both knew about his crush from the beginning because he was so obvious with it, he would call you his pet.

Sometimes literal ‘pet names’ like puppy, kitty, bunny, etc. (Personally, I would love for him to call him his bunny <3.)

What he calls you all depends on your appearance and behaviors. For example, if you manifested with a more feline appearance, he would call you his kitten or kitty. If you didn’t have animal-like features but for example, were very needy, had a tendency to follow around, and were a sucker for praise, he would likely call you his puppy.

𓌏 Punishments

Besides using electric shocks, he is definitely into spanking as a form of punishment—whether it involves pulling down your pants or lifting your skirt, spanking you for every ‘transgression’ you’ve committed is something he’s totally down for.

It can be a really strange experience if you weren't a masochist to begin with because he'll end up having you conditioned to enjoy physical punishments;

For example, he would be spanking you, and you find yourself getting turned on, arousal literally leaking due to his rough treatment of your behind.

Edging and overstimulation are also big in his book, though each has its own set of circumstances where they would be implemented.

For instance, if you weren't paying attention to him because of someone else, he would overstimulate you to the point where you couldn't think about anyone but him, asserting his superiority over whoever had your attention.

If you weren't paying attention for any other reason, he would edge you, because ‘how dare you ignore him when he should be the most important to you!’.

Thanks anons for requesting!

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zepskies · 4 months

Text

Show Me - Part 1

Pairings: Dean Winchester x Plus-sized Latina!Reader || Sam Winchester x Eileen Leahy (background)

Summary: Dean meets your infamous ex-boyfriend at a fallen hunter’s funeral. You just forgot to mention that he’s a hunter as well. Maybe because he still has the power to get under your skin…in the worst of ways.

AN: Another story for the Espresso-verse! This is set after “Devour Me,” and plays on plot threads in “Midnight Espresso” and the flashbacks in “In Bad Weather.”

Word Count: 3,100

Tags/Warnings: Angst, body shaming, body insecurity, protective Dean.

☕ Midnight Espresso Masterlist

Part 1: “Objects Are Closer Than They Appear”

Hunter funerals aren’t supposed to be lively affairs.

Alicia Jackson is special, however. She’s known so well throughout the hunter community that news of her death creates a kind of reunion at her mother’s house after the funeral, not unlike Asa Fox’s wake last year.

Even you had known Alicia, though not particularly well. You met her through Eileen. They’d called for your help on a ciguapa case a few months ago, and ever since, Alicia had insisted on buying you a beer anytime she was in town.

So today, Sam and Dean are really supporting you and Eileen by coming along.

Alicia’s mother, Martha, is a lovely Haitian woman in her late sixties. Her house is modest, but welcoming. She’s a gracious host to have so many rough and tumble hunters in her home.

The wake is mainly gathered in the backyard, where plastic tables and chair have been set up. Most of the hunters have collected into groups of the ones they know, sharing stories, laughing, eating, and drinking.

You’re in the kitchen with Martha, as you’ve offered to help her put out some more beers on the table outside. The smaller woman falters for a moment when she glances at a framed picture of her daughter on the wall. Alicia was beautiful, with coal-dark skin and soulful brown eyes she’d inherited from her mother.

You end up holding Martha’s hands in comfort when she nearly crumbles again. Your heart breaks for her. Even if you hadn’t been that close with Alicia, you’d hope that someone would take care of your own mother in a situation like this.

“She just has so many friends,” Martha says, with a tearful chuckle. “I never realized…”

“We try to look after each other,” you reply, smiling. “Everyone here knew your daughter, if not personally, then by reputation. And guaranteed, all of them have at least one good story to share.”

Martha nods. Somehow, she’s able to smile through her tears as she pats your hand.

After spending a few more minutes with her, you predictably find Dean by a long table of hors d’oeuvres and desserts.

“Babe, you gotta try these mini quiche. They’re delicious,” he says, after popping another pastry into his mouth. You can see that he’s eaten nearly a whole tray while he’s been waiting for you.

“You realize we’re at a wake, not the Golden Corral,” you lightly tease. He shrugs.

“Still gotta eat, right?” he says.

His capacity for food knows no bounds, but you love him for it.

You glance over at Sam and Eileen chatting with a small group of hunters under the shade of a tree. They’re sitting close together at a picnic table. Your lips form a subtle smile, and you lean in close to Dean.

“Look at your brother, being a supportive non-boyfriend,” you say. They’ve been loosely “dating” for weeks, though you aren’t sure they’ve put an official label on what they are together.

Dean’s expression turns both fond and amused. “Think they’ve sealed the deal yet?”

You glance over at him. “What do you mean?”

“You know…” Dean waggles his brows suggestively. You do know what he means, and you playfully smack his chest. Mostly to stop him before he starts making lewd hand motions.

“Come on, that’s none of our business,” you reply. Inside though, you’re wondering the same thing.

Dean spies the look on your face and smirks.

“See. You’re curious too,” he says. He gestures at your face with the same hand that holds a bacon-wrapped cocktail weenie. You have to raise a hand to fend him off when he tries to veer it into your mouth.

“Don’t point at me with your sausage,” you quip.

“Funny. I’ve never heard that particular complaint outta your mouth before,” he smirks.

He eventually gives up on feeding you and eats it himself. His warm gaze is still on you though. You start to blush.

“Again, we’re literally at a funeral reception,” you say, despite your growing smile.

His gait becomes more flirtatious as he leans in to whisper in your ear.

“Like I said. We still gotta eat, don’t we?”

You splutter laughing, though you attempt to contain it behind your hand. Dean’s chuckle resonates through you when he pulls you in by your waist. His thumb brushes your hip. He’s not so much into PDA, and certainly not as “touchy” as you, but this much will do for now. You lean into him in turn.

He finishes off his umpteenth hours d’oeuvre and sets his nearly empty beer on the table. After letting loose a barely stifled belch, he mentions something about finding a bathroom.

“Dogs are already barkin’, huh?” you tease.

“Yep,” he freely admits, patting his stomach. “Give me five minutes…or ten.”

He squeezes your arm in parting before he takes off down the hall at a purposeful pace. It leaves you to contemplate the mini quiche.

Damn, they do look good. You bend over the table slightly to peruse your options, when a familiar voice drawls behind you.

“Still got a fat ass,” he teases.

You freeze. Slowly, you straighten up, and you turn to blink in surprise at the man who stands there, holding a beer and wearing a playful smile.

Yours is polite at best as you try to get through your shock.

“Carter,” you blurt out. What the hell are you doing here?

He greets you with an incline of his head. The way he says your name is both familiar, and a little unsettling.

You cross your arms and lean back on your heels. “You knew Alicia?”

“We tangled a few times,” Carter replies with a nod. His smile laces with a bit of innuendo, but his eyes have just enough heaviness to convince you that he really did have some kind of relationship with Alicia.

Oh, Ali. You could’ve done better, you think. You wish you’d known that tidbit of information when she was alive. You would’ve warned her.

“I’m sorry for your loss then,” you say. Carter nods again. A silence falls awkwardly between you two.

“Is that all we’re gonna say to each other?” he asks. “It’s been…what, a couple years?”

“Almost four,” you supply. You and Carter had ended just a few months before you met Sam and Dean, a little over three years ago now. You and Dean hadn’t started dating until last year.

“All right,” Carter says, rubbing at his chin. His gaze roams over you with a slight smile. They take you in from your high-heeled boots and jean-clad curvy thighs, to your green blouse, laced loosely in the front. You’d decided to dress a little nicer for the occasion.

“You know, you look the same,” Carter says. His head tilts. “But different somehow.”

You raise a brow. “Different?”

“Yeah, like…” He draws closer and leans on the table beside you. He sips at his beer. “Confident. Like you’re not hiding yourself anymore.”

He mimics the hunch of a turtle in its shell.

“You used to be like a little mouse sometimes,” he adds with a light chuckle.

You know he means to be teasing, but you’re not laughing. If you’re not hiding anymore, it means you’re not trying to bury yourself under shapeless clothes, along with much of your inner self.

“Don’t you think that’s a little tight?” he’d asked you once, before you two went out together. It wasn’t the first time. (And it wouldn’t be the last.)

“I’m just saying,” he would often say. “You might feel more comfortable in something a bit looser. Cover these up a little.”

You remember how he’d squeezed the softness around your sides or your stomach. You also remember a well of anxiety in your chest that had made you feel almost grotesque when you’d studied yourself in the mirror afterwards.

Objects are closer than they appear…

You remember agreeing with him. Changing clothes. Drowning yourself in crewneck shirts and breezy buttoned-downs. Always wearing pants and baggy shirts to bed. Thinking all of this was to make you comfortable, and not the man who didn’t really love you.

So now, you give him a passive look as you take Dean’s forgotten beer and finish the last sip. Carter wears a hunter’s red plaid over jeans and his old leather boots. His blonde hair is shaggy around his ears, his face a little rough with stubble, his eyes still a deep blue.

He looks exactly the same. He probably is the same.

He’s right about one thing though. You’re not the same.

“We’re not in the profession of hiding,” you finally reply. “Guess I just got tired of it.”

Carter seems to sense your shift, and maybe, what you’re really saying. His smile falls into contemplation. He crosses his arms.

“Did I spot you with one of the Winchesters earlier?” he asks.

You nod. “Yeah, that was Dean.”

Before you can add the boyfriend part, Carter whistles lowly and shakes his head.

“I’d steer clear of them if I were you,” he says.

You quirk a brow. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me. Those two are walking hurricanes of bad luck, blood, and mayhem,” Carter says.

“You don’t even know Sam and Dean,” you counter. Your voice is sharp and your brows knit together in thinly veiled irritation. “So I suggest you shut your mouth and steer clear of me.”

You set the beer bottle a bit hard on the table and mean to brush past him. You spot Sam and Eileen again, still sitting in their same table under the tree. You aim to head over there to wait for Dean, but a hand wraps around your arm.

“Come on, sweetheart. Don’t be like that,” Carter frowns.

“I’m not your sweetheart,” you tell him. You’re discreet in the way you try to twist your arm out of his grip. You glance around to make sure no one’s watching you two. The last thing you want to do is make a scene here, but Carter is being a stubborn ass.

Even though you manage to wrench out of his hold, he grasps your hand next to stop you from pulling away. He looks down at your hand, brushes his thumb over your skin. His gaze looks heavy, almost melancholy.

You know that funerals tend to bring out the sentimental shoulda, coulda, woulda in hunters, but you think he might be looking back on your time together with rosier glasses than he ought to be.

“Look, I'm sorry. Can’t I at least get you a drink? We can catch up,” he says.

“Consider me caught up,” you toss back. Frustration begins to set you on edge. “I don’t know why you’re pushing this. I mean, God, we weren’t even good together.”

At that, his grip tightens on your hand. Confusion and denial cross his face.

“That’s not true,” he protests.

Unbidden, you’re forced to remember the weeks you and Carter spent in Miami, where you’d met him. You remember how he’d convinced you to leave with him after his hunt was done, and to leave your family behind. A decision you regretted to this day…

You lean in closer just to whisper hotly. “You know it is. We didn’t have a relationship. We had a transaction, in which you liked what I could do for you. But you never loved me. You never even really knew me.”

At that, his hold finally loosens in his shock. You take the opportunity to slip your hand out of his. Another familiar hand rests along your lower back, and a firm wall radiates warmth behind you.

“Hey, party people,” Dean says. He gives Carter a “pleasant” smile, and you a more genuine look. You okay? it says.

You let out a subtly relieved breath and nod. “Hey, was just gonna go check on you.”

“I’m good,” Dean says. He looks over at Carter, whose expression has cooled considerably. Still, Dean inclines his head. “Hey, man.”

“Yeah,” Carter says. His tone is bland, until his gaze slides back to you.

“Don’t tell me you’re shacking up with this one now,” he says, leveling a finger at Dean. Then he gestures across the lawn, over at Sam. “Or is it the former anti-Christ over there?”

Both you and Dean bristle. Your temper has a thin fuse right now, and while you still don’t want to make a scene, you might have to make an exception.

“Why don’t you remember where the hell you are and have some decency,” you hiss. “Do us all a favor and fuck off.”

Once again, you try to walk past him. This time when Carter grabs you, it’s because he smarts at you getting the last word. A sharp breath escapes you, and Dean intervenes with a firm, warning grip on the other man’s wrist.

“Hey, you wanna act right, before you make yourself a problem?” Dean says. His face is relaxed, but behind his eyes are a very real threat. “I got no issue laying you out right here, in front of all your buddies.”

Carter has a moment of indecision. He notices a few pairs of eyes drawing their way, and so he lets go of you, even as he sneers at Dean.

“Shove the Prince Charming bit, asshole. She ain’t a damn princess,” Carter snaps. “She don’t act like one, and she definitely don’t look like one.”

You roll your eyes at his spite, but Dean can’t quite let that one slide off his back.

His grip tightens on Carter’s wrist as he pulls him in. He pats Carter hard on the back and smiles as if they’re old friends. But really, it just gives him the vantage point to speak lowly near the man’s ear.

“All right, douchebag. Keep talking shit. I’ll bet that’s how you’ve gotten this far in life,” Dean says. “But touch her again, and I’ll break every damn bone in your hand. And maybe, I won’t stop there.”

He tilts his head, so he can see the glimmer of intimidation hidden well behind the other man’s eyes. Then Dean lets him go. He turns and lays a hand at the small of your back. The two of you fall into step together while walking across the lawn in the backyard.

“You didn’t have to do that,” you say quietly.

Dean frowns and notices the way your gaze has lowered. His hand moves around your waist and squeezes to get your attention. Without him realizing, it just reminds you of the way Carter used to point out the thicker curves on your body.

Cover these up a little.

“Hey, you okay—”

“I’m fine, Dean,” you say, easing out of his hold.

It leaves him feeling unbalanced, and a bit put out. Dean remains quiet as he follows you over to his brother’s table.

“Are you all right?” Sam asks you, discreetly, but with concern. The wake is coming to an end, and by now Dean has filled him in on your run in with your ex, Carter Hall.

You give Sam a nod and a smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes.

“Yeah, I'm good,” you reply.

Dean is quiet. He stands beside you with his hands in his pockets. Eileen has invited you and Dean to join her and Sam at a nearby bar to keep the evening going with a few other hunters, but this has already been one hell of a day. You’re ready to make the long drive home and call it a night.

Eileen’s also agreed to take Sam home (eventually). You notice how they share smiles, how Eileen ducks her head with the beginnings of a blush. You’re happy for them, even as you and Dean part ways with a more stifled silence on the way back to the car.

It’s late, and it’s cold. You walk beside him with your arms crossed, just to brace yourself against the windchill eating through your jacket. You glance over at your boyfriend and feel a measure of remorse for the way you brushed him off earlier. You have a feeling that’s part of the reason why he’s quiet, giving you your space.

You decide to close the distance. You sidle up closer and curl your arm around his. Your hand slips into his as well, threading your fingers together with Dean’s.

He looks over at you with a slight raise of his brows. His lips quirk at a smile, and his hand tightens on yours. You’re able to give him a more sincere smile in return.

“Can I tell you something?” you ask.

“Yeah,” Dean says.

You look up at him and bite your lower lip. “I’m starving. I never did get to try those quiche.”

It only takes a moment for you to devolve into a quiet giggle. It’s infectious, and Dean laughs with you.

“Okay, we’ll stop somewhere,” he nods. Though his eyes widen in realization. “Damn, that means you haven’t eaten since, what, this morning? Before the funeral?”

You mentally count back the hours, and you have to agree with a sheepish nod. Dean shakes his head in disapproval.

“Come on, sweetheart. You should’ve said something.”

You shrug, even though you know he’s right. Your free hand curls around his bicep, and you lay your head against his arm. He looks down at the top of your head and heaves a sigh, despite his lingering smile.

Though the peace you’ve brokered is soon interrupted.

Dean had to park down the road of Martha Jackson’s house. Two cars down is Carter, who’s about to climb into his old Honda Civic.

Damn. He’s still driving the same piece of shit too, you note. His head raises, and as if he knows he’s being watched, his attention turns toward you and Dean. You don’t allow yourself to react, other than staring across the way, directly at Carter. You wait until he looks away first, opening his door and getting into his car.

You expel a breath and brush your thumb over the back of Dean’s hand.

“Let’s go,” you say.

Dean nods. He guides you toward the passenger side of the Impala, but his gaze lands beyond his car, to the Honda still parked and warming up. He finds Carter’s gaze through the front window for a moment.

It’s Carter who once again breaks first; he revs the ignition and peels onto the street, and down the road past them without looking back.

Dean's lips curve. Bitch.

Shaking his head, he rolls his shoulders and rounds the car towards the driver’s side.

He’s more than ready to go home.

AN: *sighs* Okay, originally this story was going to be a one-shot, but it just got too damn long. Let me know what you think of Dean finally meeting her ex-douchebag, Carter.

Part 2 (coming next week) will include all the angsty hurt/comfort and smut to come...

Next Time:

“I’ll just speak for myself then,” he says. His hand trails lower... “If you need me to remind you how beautiful you are, how goddamn sexy…then I got no problem showing you.”

His hand moves down the soft slopes of your body and comes to rest at the curve of your waist. Hearing your faltering breath, Dean pulls back so he can see your face.

“Let me take care of you for a change,” he says. His lips pull at a grin, and it makes you smile in turn.

You take his face in your hands and bring him down to you for a kiss, languid and a bit devouring. It makes heat lick up Dean’s spine.

“Okay,” you whisper, close to his lips. “Show me.”

Keep Reading: PART 2

Series Masterlist

Dean Winchester One-Shots

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Ko-Fi Me ☕

Dean W. Tag List:

@hobby27 @kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesbrainworms @foxyjwls007 @wincastifer @iamsapphine @simpforbuckyb @vanillawhiskeyflavoredkisses @roseblue373 @this-is-me19 @emily-winchester @spnexploration @deans-spinster-witch @deans-baby-momma @iprobablyshipit91

@melancholictearz @nic-kolas @sanscas @sleepyqueerenergy @wayward-lost-and-never-found @thewritersaddictions @just-levyy @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @deanwanddamons @antisocialcorrupt @lacilou @adoringanakin @theonlymaninthesky @teehxk @midnightmadwoman @brianochka @branj19

@agalliasi @venicesem @chriszgirl92 @lyarr24 @ladysparkles78 @solariklees @xsophianicolex @deansbbyx @candy-coated-misery0731 @curlycarley @sarahgracej @bagpussjocken @deanfreakingwinchester @chernayawidow @beskarfilms @mimaria420

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haravath0t · 5 months

Text

𝐀 𝐇𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝’𝐬 𝐆𝐮𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐭𝐨

𝐌𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐈𝐧-𝐋𝐚𝐰𝐬

𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚛𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐: 𝚗𝚎𝚞𝚟𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚎, 𝚣𝚑𝚘𝚗𝚐𝚕𝚒, 𝚊𝚢𝚊𝚝𝚘, 𝚝𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚊𝚐𝚕𝚒𝚊

𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑹𝒊𝒌𝒂𝒏𝒆 𝑾𝒐𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑨𝒅𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒕 𝑪𝒂𝒍𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒂𝒓 - 𝚍𝚊𝚢 𝟹

𝚜𝚢𝚗𝚘𝚙𝚜𝚒𝚜 : ̗̀➛ meeting the in-laws during the holidays…how does that work? (genshin men x Filipino!reader)

☕🤍🌿 𝚕𝚒𝚋𝚛𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚊𝚗'𝚜 𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗: 𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚒𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚎𝚗𝚓𝚘𝚢𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚢 ! 𝚒𝚝 𝚑𝚎𝚕𝚙𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚒𝚋𝚛𝚊𝚛𝚢 𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚗𝚎𝚎𝚍𝚜 ! ☕🤍🌿

₊˚.༄ 𝘯𝘦𝘶𝘷𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘦

Oh, they’d love him.

The minute he walks through the door, his aura is undeniable. He’s practically the dream son-in-law any Filipino parent can ask for.

Taking off shoes at the front door? Check. A put together outfit? Check. Going up to your parents immediately to take their hand and doing the “mano”? Check. Your parents would eat it all up too!

“Ayyy, wow! Mabait s’ya!” (Wow! He’s polite!) “Ang galing naman! Ay thank you, thank you!”

They would even notice that he took care of the refreshments too, it seems. By refreshments, we mean water bottles. Lots of it. It undeniably will be the brand that he likes the best. No, it is not the crystal geyser, no it’s not dasani, just a bunch of “flavored water with the best aftertaste.” (Don’t get your hopes up, it’s good ol’ mineral water.)

It’s all nice and all, but when he sits down? He may not look like it, but he’s a nervous wreck. “Is this alright?” “Perhaps I can say something. But what?” “Hmm, no, not that.” In truth, he’s amazed that he even landed on a beautiful partner, that is you, someone who has exercised so much patience and has taught him ways to express himself. However, to practice all he has learned from you in the face of other people, especially that it’s your parents? It is safe to say even the Iudex himself cannot help but feel queasy.

He cannot bring himself to really start any conversation as much as he would like to, even the bustle of your family slowly trickling in cannot take away the unspoken worries he has. It is thanks to you holding his hand below the table that his worries ease even a little, as well as your inquisitive parents.

The fact that your parents start off by asking questions eases Neuvillette, his posture as elegant as he looks, relax ever so slightly, something you notice by the slightest shift in his seat. The longer they talk to the quiet Iudex, the more your parents are comforted as well. Perhaps their daughter is in good hands, after all.

“Please, do not worry. I shall swear to you that your daughter will live every day knowing how much she means to me.”

ᨒ ₊ ⊹ 𝘻𝘩𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘭𝘪

Like Neuvillette, he’d have an aura that one cannot deny. It’s as though he carries himself with a quiet yet powerful sense of confidence, truly the definition of finesse as he steps in. It’s as though a higher power has stepped into the party. (hah!)

He was well-dressed, having his dress shirt with a nicely placed tie, some nice slacks, and a trench coat that only accentuates his lean visage. As always, his long brown hair was in a ponytail, and he came in with leather gloves.

The way he takes off his shoes and the way he practically bows down to your parents to “mano” them is pretty second nature to him. “Greetings. Thank you for hosting this night for us.” He’d say, and his deep voice along with the gentle tone he uses amuses your parents and even your cousins. Sure they knew he was a good man for you to be married to, and sure they have heard him speak before, but to hear him and be within his vicinity is such a shocker to them!

The titas are fawning over him already, trying to lean closer to hear this man talk, even approaching so that way they can greet him as well. His smile was so kind, his amber eyes something no one can look away from, and his stature made him look much taller than he already is.

In his hands were a container of dumplings that you and he had made together, a suggestion made by him to thank the hosts, your parents. “Ay! Thank you!” Your parents seemed more than pleased. It is when he takes off his gloves and holds your hand does your wedding rings shine in the light, a reminder to the family just who he was happily married to.

They cannot help but talk about you both now, watching Zhongli catch up with your parents quietly, all the while his hand subconsciously places itself on the small of your back, letting you take a plate and dig into the various foods and desserts you would like. Though your parents have talked to Zhongli several times before on smaller visits, they still cannot help but feel some form of intimidation towards the man, feeling as though it was too good to be true.

Your titas love him alright, but your titos? Oh, they envy him. Almost every man in that party does. They felt as though Zhongli needed to be eased in, and what better way than through drinks and games? Mayhaps mahjong? Oh, that’s where they had made a mistake.

Zhongli refuses beer, settling on tea while he talks to the titos with ease, though he wouldn’t hesitate to give out his opinions on some topics, which undeniably tarnish some of the pride your titos came into this party with. The worst part? He’s winning the mahjong matches no matter how many times the titos or your guy cousins switch. The man at this point seems unshakeable! He didn’t show it, but he was getting a hoot out of it.

However, even if it may be so, he’s always coming back to you. Even amidst the noise, his smile truly appears when you’re near. Your parents don’t miss how easily you two reciprocate, and they cannot help but feel relaxed.

“Salamat sa diyos,” (“Thank god”) Your mom sighs, looking at your father. “She’s taken care of.”

₊˚.༄ 𝘬𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘢𝘵𝘰 𝘢𝘺𝘢𝘵𝘰

Unlike the previous husbands, Kamisato Ayato is an intimidating type. Rather than him being a bit nervous around your parents, it’s more of them being nervous around him.

They immediately approved of your marriage with him, his name alone already ringing a bell to both your mom and dad. When he met them, asking their blessing in your marriage? Oh, they cannot help but become nervous. They tried to dress their best, you came in with an extra spotless looking household, and the biggest array of Filipino dishes you can even recall. Admittedly, it was a little too much, that you even got a bit annoyed of how they were putting much more effort into this than they should, but you had to just let Ayato be, letting him praise your parents in turn.

When you called your parents to notify them that you two were coming to this year’s Christmas party, it was the same reaction. Even though Ayato does his best to reassure them that he’s just “your husband”, it seems to never be so.

And so, he’s dressed in a simple yet elevated outfit: a light blue collared shirt, paired with a black tie and vest, and a long black trench coat.

The kids loved him, of course, but you can see your parents practically curl up. He greeted your relatives and your parents with ease, amusing them each time he even spoke to you so lovingly.

“My love, let’s grab something delicious to eat.” He’s heard saying to you with a smile, gently guiding you through the crowded house where the trays of food are lined up.

Though many are in awe of the famed Kamisato, they are undeniably going to think of your comparability with the young man too. The titas talk to your parents, and it’s a whole round table in itself.

“Ang pangit ng damit ng anak mo!” (“Your daughter’s clothes look ugly”) A Tita whispers to your mother. “Lalo na sa tabi n’ya.” (“Especially next to him.”)

“Couldn’t your daughter have a better job?” “I feel like this is some joke.” “He could leave her one day, watch…let’s see if she can keep her act together.”

Your ears catch it pretty quickly, the women talking so loud. Undeniably it hurts your mother, but she lets them talk, trying to toughen it out. Ayato is quick to notice your concern.

“Hey,” Ayato chuckles from behind, kissing your temple. “Why don’t you find us a seat? I’ll get us your favorite drink, hm?” His voice, as always, was so sweet, and you couldn’t help but smile. “Fine, fine,” you sigh. “I’ll be in the living room.” Ayato can only smile and look at you with loving eyes. “Good girl.”

And so, you opt to find a cozy seat on the couch in the other room, somewhere by the corner and by the window. Ayato was going to get your drinks from the freezer, yes, but also to make a quick stop.

“Ahh,” Ayato chuckles, standing beside the circle of titas and your own mother. Immediately the chatter dies down, and he practically commands the flow of the topic, all the while he holds onto your drinks. “I don’t want to be so intruding, but I cannot help but overhear what you all are talking about!” It is only then that the titas start to feel a tinge of guilt, and Ayato stops them before they even come up with an excuse.

“Why, if I may add my own contribution, I’d like to offer that before you begin to judge what my wife and I have with one another, that you all consider just what type of people you all are that makes you all so capable of passing judgment, hm? You won’t tarnish my impression of my wife, but you are tarnishing my impression towards you all.”

₊˚.༄ 𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘢𝘨𝘭𝘪𝘢

Oh, your parents had their doubts when they met Childe. They couldn’t help but wonder if he was a bad influence or not, but they decided that they can’t really sway you to reconsider or to think about it a bit more. So alas, when you and your husband come in for the Christmas party, Childe, or rather, Ajax, was already having a happy face.

He looked so cozy in your eyes, dawning a red crew neck sweater with gray pants, all put together with a black belt and a beige coat. No doubt he was handsome, and yet the elders can only stare at this rather loud and rambunctious man that was your husband.

Your parents greet him, but he hugs them! It’s quite a shocker to them, but they couldn’t deny, his charisma was something that had them soften up. “If you don’t mind, I also brought along someone else!” He says to your parents, and before they can question him, out peeps a smaller boy behind his legs, someone who looked similar to Ajax. He had the same red hair and blue eyes, the same freckles, and your parents’ eyes went wide.

Was this his kid? Your stepson? But the questions were immediately answered when your husband spoke: “This is Teucer! My little brother! He has been missing us, so I figured he can come along!”

This made your parents second guess their previous view of Ajax. Did he really speak so highly of you and your parents that he trusted his little brother to come along? Yes, yes he did. The implication alone made them smile. Maybe they needed to rethink this.

“No, it’s okay! Come, go eat na! There’s so much food!” Your mother beckons to Teucer, leaving you and him alone. He’s very affectionate with you, and openly so, that it makes your parents blush. They watch you two settle, watch Ajax sit you down on his lap while he feeds you food from a plate you two are sharing, all while Teucer fights his older brother to snuggle up to you.

That’s only temporary, though, especially when the little boy gets whisked away by your own young nieces and nephews, causing the kids to be even louder than usual. Still, this gets your father and mother to talk to him.

“So Ajax…” They start asking him questions one by one, and each makes them slowly relax. He’s ticking all the requirements: he’s making a steady income, you and him are getting along fine, and that you’re also being well received by his own family.

But then comes a dreaded distraction: a yelling noise from a chorus of men that was your Tito’s. And Ajax’s head snaps in curiosity. “Oh, don’t mind them,” your father waves dismissively. “Pacquiao is fighting tonight.” It was then you see Ajax’s eyes widen. “Wait. Like the boxer?!” “YES!”

Your father did an immediate 180 if he hadn’t already. For all you know, Ajax wasn’t yours any longer, for he was already given a bottle of beer and within the crowd of various Tito’s, seeing him mimic punches as though Pacquiao himself was being coached by this man.

Your mother couldn’t help but laugh with you, seeing the Tito’s and a now buzzed Ajax talk amongst themselves as though they have known each other as long as you and him have.

“You know, anak?” Your mother starts, looking over at the sight of all these men gathered around the TV while your husband screams alongside your mother’s husband. “You were right. You married a good guy, a good family oriented guy. I like it.”

#the rikane wonderland advent calendar #neuvillette #neuvillette x filipino!reader #neuvillette x you #zhongli #Zhongli x Filipino!reader #zhongli x you #kamisato ayato #Kamisato ayato x Filipino!reader #kamisato ayato x you #tartaglia #childe #childe tartaglia ajax #ajax x you #ajax x reader #childe x Filipino!reader #zhongli x reader #neuvillete x reader

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anonymousbardd · 1 month

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꒰ ☕ ꒱ ┊: Celebrity Crush

↳ Diego Kang x FemReader

- In an interview, the famous Korean idol, Diego Kang had been asked who his celebrity crush is.

To much the interviewer's surprise, he mentioned a name that no one has heard of.

It was another long day for me to begin, my manager has been reminding me none-stop about a sit down interview on a show this afternoon.

Everything's been so time consuming, and I haven't even finished my job to take down the chairman yet.

After finishing a nice shower I looked at a picture that was framed on my shelf, it was a group picture of my friends and I.

I sighed and got dressed for the interview, once I've finished, I called my manager and told them that I'm ready to head out.

"Good afternoon mister Kang! It's a pleasure to have you here," the host greeted, I smiled and leaned back on the small couch, "Thank you for having me, it's an honour."

"How is your afternoon going so far Mister Kang?"

"It's starting of well, I suppose after the interview I'll just go ahead and have something to eat."

I and the host chatted for a while, he asked me some questions about my career, hobbies, etc.

Eventually, he asked me something that I knew a lot of people were wondering as well.

"So, mister Kang, you've worked with quite a lot of celebrities, have you?" I nodded crossed my legs, "I have, they're really fun to work with."

The host then chuckled and rested his head on his hand, "May I ask a question that's running around for quite a while now, how is your celebrity crush?"

I knew it, I sat there in silence as I thought for a moment.

The image of a young girl flashed in my mind, "I suppose it would be a young woman I like to call Tulip," I said.

My response tickled everyone with curiosity, "Who is this Tulip?" The host asked, I grinned and leaned back on the couch I sat on.

"Well... She's someone who I always admired, she was the one who inspired me to become the person that I am today..." I paused and let out a sigh.

"Though I never admitted it, I'd do anything just to see her," I smiled as I felt a tug in my stomach.

I knew that everyone was asking the same thing, who the hell is Tulip, well, I didn't want to disclose any detailed information about her.

One may mistake it for me being too busy and forgetting about her, but it's not the case.

(F/n) is the loveliest woman I've ever met, though she stuck around with violent men, her heart's warmer than the sun.

(F/n) wasn't well known for fighting, in fact, she never raised a finger to hurt anyone, everybody knew her because she's the only one who tried to reason with stupid arguements.

She gave and gave and never expected anything in return, every Saturday she and I would go out for walks at the park, as if life is so simple, and it is.

With (F/n), everything is comforting, the little things mattered, her kindness always sparked something in me.

That's why I regret it... Not being able to protect her, (F/n) was the loveliest person I've ever met.

And I should have told her about it way sooner, I should have confessed to her from the start, I shouldn't have left like a scared dog.

(F/n) was the kindness person I've ever met, I always found myself thinking about her, wanting to be with her and.. Loving her.

Everybody knew her, they all respected her, and I was a damned fool to let her go.

༝༚༝༚𝚊𝚗𝚘𝚗𝚢𝚖𝚘𝚞𝚜𝚋𝚊𝚛𝚍𝚍

#lookism #lookism one shot #x reader #oneshot #fanfic #lookismoneshot #lookisim fanfic #diego kang #james lee #diego kang x FemReader #james lee x reader

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everlastlady · 11 months

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Hii! Hope you're having a nice time of day! I was wondering if you could write hc's for Striker with a S/O, who is a Cat demon! I'm not sure if something like this has already been requested, so forgive me if I'm clueless :')

Thanks!

I'll gladly do this for ya! Thank you a bunch for requesting. I'm going to be basing some of the cat stuff from the wiki on Husk and VP has stated that, Husk hates his form because of the cat like shit that happens with him. So this should be interesting for Striker with a cat demon partner. So again thank you so much for requesting and I hope you enjoy!

┅┅┅┅┅┅┅┅┅┅┅┅┅༻☕༺┅┅┅┅┅┅┅┅┅┅┅┅┅┅┅┅┅┅

☕ Author's Note: Hello! My little imps, demonic sinners, & powerful overlords. Welcome back to another story and request of Striker X Cat Demon Reader. This was a fun one to write even though any content I write for Striker is fun because I love his character. If you loved this story please make sure to comment, like, or reblog.

☕Word Count: 1450

☕Fandom: Helluva Boss

☕Story Contains: Abusive asshat Valentino.

┅┅┅┅┅┅┅┅┅┅┅┅┅༻☕༺┅┅┅┅┅┅┅┅┅┅┅┅┅┅┅┅┅┅

Striker X Cat Demon Reader

┅┅┅┅┅┅┅┅┅┅┅┅┅༻☕༺┅┅┅┅┅┅┅┅┅┅┅┅┅┅┅┅┅┅

Striker had met you when you were injured in an alleyway. He had just got done taking of a job and decided to use the alleyway to get home quicker. But when hearing heavy breathing, he followed the sound to see you. A demon cat who was injured and in pain. Striker never really care for anyone else but himself. But he saw that were in pain and he wanted to help. When he tried to reach out and help you up. You only hissed and scooted back making the tin trashcans rattle. Striker was a little taking back by your reaction but he also saw that you were scared. How you looked scared, confused, and wanted to cry. “ Hey, now darlin’ I ain’t going to hurt you, my name is Striker, do you want me to help ya? “ He could tell that you were scared like he was going to hurt you. Looking at Striker, you weren’t sure if you should trust him, but something told you to trust the cowboy Imp. So you nodded your head. Maybe he could help you with your injuries.

He had picked you up carefully and walked down the alleyway with you. Striker’s home was small and the way he dressed fit the theme he had going on in his home. He set you down and came back with a medkit. “ You wanna tell me who hurt ya? I’m an assassin so if you have the money. I could take this person out. “ Striker said, but he saw that you looked away and said nothing. He respected that you didn’t want to talk about it; after patching you up. He gave you some fresh clothes which were one of his shirts and sweatpants. You went to wash up and change.

Your cat-like features interested Striker. He thought you looked adorable. Your features made him smile and seeing your tail wag when you were finally happy made him happy. Striker was a wonderful and good host. Even letting you spend the night. He would cover you up with blankets and pillows before he got up to leave. You grabbed his sleeve and wanted to tell him what had happened and how you ended up in the alley. Yould told him about the cruel and fucked up things your boss Valentino did to you and how you stood up to him, only for him to beat you up and you tried your best to fight back and ran. That you were hiding in that alley from Valentino and anyone he sent looking for you. This was the first time Striker ever felt sorry for someone. “ Oh, darlin’, I’m sorry that happened to ya, that was brave of ya to finally stand up and fight against him. No one should ever have to go through what you went through. My offer still stands if you want me to kill him. But you stay here as long as you want, I’ll protect you. “

Striker loved the little purrs you made when he would kiss your head or caress your cheek. You watched the cowboy Imp stick by your side until you fell asleep. You never thought you meet someone this kind. Someone who would finally help you. When sticking around Striker’s house you did your part and cleaned up. You also would make Striker food. “ Darlin’ you ain’t have to do all this for me. “ Striker would say but you would stare at him with your soft (E/C) eyes and he would just chuckle. “ At least let me help. “ And the two of you would be cooking and cleaning together.

You weren’t scared that Striker was an assassin in fact you asked Striker to teach you how to fight and use weapons. You wanted to be able to protect yourself when you were ready to leave. “ I mean if you are serious then sure, I’ll teach you how to fight and use weapons darlin’ and I promise you’ll be the toughest little kitten out there. “ Striker would say and be excited to teach you. The training was hard at first and Striker would take it easy at first and then really toughen up on you. He taught you how to disarm, defend, and use weapons properly. Whenever you or Striker pinned each other to the floor. You would be locked in a staring contest while blushing only for him to clear his throat. “Let's continue with the trainer little kitten. “

When he wasn’t calling you darlin’, pumpkin, sugar, sweetheart, doll, or anything else in that smooth southern accent. He loved to call you little kitten and you didn’t find you were fond of the nickname. “ Little kitten you wanna watch a movie? “ or “ Hey little kitten did you eat today? “ That nickname made you happy and seeing Striker care for you and teach you made you feel all warm, and you were slowly falling for him and he was slowly falling for you as well.

It was time for you to leave and you made that choice. Striker walked up to you. “ If you ever wanna come back then just call me kitten. “ He would write his number down and hand it to you. When he caresses your face you would nuzzle your cheek into the palm of his hand, letting out soft purrs. You stared at him with doe eyes and Striker leaned in a bit so did you, before you both knew it. The two of you were kissing. The man tasted like dark coffee and nicotine. ( I’m not sorry)

The two of you pulled away and Striker smirked. “ You know you don’t have to leave just yet and it would be a shame. If you wasted money hotel hopping when you have a nice place here with a cowboy who can protect ya. “ Striker said. You smiled as your tail curled, you agreed to stay here with Striker and you agreed to be his partner which made Striker happy because now you both could lay in his bed.

Striker wasn’t fazed by you always zooming around sometimes at night or when you laid on top of him. He would rub your back and hear you purr. He would chuckle feeling you nuzzle into his neck. “ You are so damn cute, little kitten. “ Striker would always hold you close in bed, though sometimes he would hiss feeling your claws dig into him and you would apologize and kiss whatever marks you left on him.

Oh boy, whenever you bent down to pick up something and wiggled your ass a bit which you had no control over. Striker would stand behind you looking like a damn villain. He would smack your ass and take off running, as you chased him to beat his ass with your shoe. But sometimes you did get him back even though so the man had no ass. (Again not sorry, he has no ass. )

Your boss eventually found you having one of your old co-workers track you down and Val showed up to take you back. Striker had that knife drawn letting Val know this ain’t no normal knife. “ I suggest you get your ass off my property, I also suggest you leave my little kitten alone, they don’t work for you, no more and they don’t have to so you can either leave here alive or I can send you back your cheap ass business in a casket. “ Striker said with a growl. Val glared at you and at Striker, he rolled his eyes and scoffed. “ Keep them, I can’t get someone else to do a better job than, them someone more obedient, beautiful, and better. “ Val would blow his smoke in both your faces and leave not looking back. Striker would slam the door closed and would be breathing heavily from anger but he would calm down when you hugged him. Striker would hug you back letting you cry. “ Don’t worry darlin’, he’s gone, and won’t have to worry about him anymore. “ Striker would pick you up and carry you to the bedroom.

Striker always protected you, he loved you and wanted nothing but for you to feel safe. He enjoyed your cat-like features everything about you was beautiful what was cute. Is that when you purred or hissed. He would also hiss or make rattle noises. Making it both a fun game between you two, you may have had your cat tendencies but Striker had his rattlesnake and crocodile tendencies. And you both never judged each other. You were glad Striker found you in that alley and saved you, Striker was glad he found you because he planned to never let you go and always protect you.

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anti--transid · 8 months

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{ ‘ Former Radqueer and Anti Radqueer flags ! ’ }

[pt: { ‘ Former Radqueer and Anti Radqueer flags ! ’ } /end pt]

I made these pastel specifically to contrast how bright the radqueer flag (seriously, its so fucking ugly wtf) and because from what I've seen, pastel/softer colors are often shown for healing!

Left is Former Radqueer, right is Anti Radqueer! The right one is actually a flag I repurposed from when I was a radqueer.. (it was the dangoqueer flag.. yes, I coined that and ravequeer..)

[photo id for the left flag: a nine striped flag with horizontal stripes consisting of: white, pastel salmon, lavender purple, baby blue, and a pink, purple and sky blue gradient. /End photo id]

[photo id for the right flag: a seven striped flag with horizontal stripes consisting of: peachy reddish pink, sky blue, white and a pastel rainbow gradient. /End photo id]

These flags are free to use with credit!

#☕{not the host}.#☕{talking}.#mogai coining #mogai flag #anti radqueer #anti radqueer flag #anti ship #anti trace #anti transage #anti transabled #anti transid #anti transx #anti transautistic #former radqueer

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morallyinept · 2 months

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🌶️ - Contains smut 🖤 - Dark Themes ☁️ - Fluff 😭 - Angst 🌈 - GN/M!Reader 🎄- Seasonal

MAIN MASTERLIST | GIFLET MASTERLIST | KO-FI ☕

Dress Me Up & Call Me Pretty One Shot • 6.8k words • Dieter Bravo x F!Reader 🌶️ Dieter gets into your make-up stash, and all carnage breaks loose.

Broadcasting Live Tonight! One Shot • 7.9k words • Dieter Bravo x F!Reader 🌶️ Dieter Bravo hosts SNL and you're assigned as his personal make-up artist, which means you'll be getting up very close and very personal to him...

Thrash Metal One Shot • 5.4k words • Dieter Bravo x F!Reader 🌶️ When you arrive home, Dieter has a surprise for you.

Jet Set Christmas One Shot • 5.6k words • Dieter Bravo x F!Reader 🌶️🎄Dieter is flying away for a tropical filming schedule over Christmas, and you find a way to give him some First Class Service on his flight.

Devotion One Shot • 8.4k words • Dieter Bravo x Curvy/Fuller F!Reader 🌶️ Whilst on vacation with your partner Dieter Bravo, you get snapped in your bikini by paparazzi, causing you to question and evaluate your body shape when others pick it apart scathingly. Dieter however, shows you that you're perfect just as you are.

I Carry Your Heart With Me Drabble • 650 words • Dieter Bravo x GN!Reader ☁️🌈 A short drabble based on an Ask.

Soft Dieter Series ☕ A selection of soft Dieter One Shots & Drabbles - ONGOING

A Cup Of Love Masterlist 🌶️☁️

Back Alley Bang! Series - Sleazy!Dieter - ONGOING

Back Alley Bang! Masterlist 🌶️

500 words or less drabbles based on a GIF

SUV Shenanigans Dieter Bravo x F!Reader 🌶️

The Bow Tie Dieter Bravo x F!Reader 🌶️

Bad Acting Dieter Bravo x GN!Reader ☁️🌈

Masterpiece Dieter Bravo s F!Reader 🌶️

Self-Care Masterlist featuring Dieter Bravo 🖤

Self Care With Dieter & Jett Masterlist If you need a pick-me-up, some advice or a laugh, Dieter & I have you covered.

#dieter bravo #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #dieter bravo x reader #pedro pascal characters #dieter bravo the bubble #dieter bravo x you #dieter bravo smut #dieter bravo fluff #self care with dieter and jett #jett's writing

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mayajadewrites · 4 months

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Suguru Geto x Reader: Never Say Never

Hi!! Geto is my favorite JJK character, so I knew I had to create a fanfic for him since I rarely see any! This is geto x reader, but I will be using first person instead of saying "you" constantly. This series will have smut.

This is a modern Suguru Geto AU!

Summary: Reader and Geto have been basically raised together. They've been enemies, frenemies, friends, and now roommates. Has there been a connection all this time that both of them have ignored? What are they willing to do to prove this connection wrong?

ao3 link

Suguru Geto has been my sworn enemy since I was in diapers. We were born about 2 months apart, and our families never let us forget. His parents and mine are very close, like close enough for us to spend holidays together.

Suguru has always been a source of not only competition, but annoyance. He was always making fun of me or pushing me down the slide when our parents weren't looking. While he has gotten older, that doesn't mean he's matured. We fight every day, some say like a married couple. I would not want to be caught dead in a marriage with Suguru Geto.

Now, in our final year of college, I can say that Suguru has grown A BIT. We still hang out constantly, but we also have other friends that balance us out. Gojo, Shoko, and Nanami.

The 5 of us rent out a house together so we can stay near campus and have cheap rent. This also meant complete chaos almost every weekend, courtesy of Satoru Gojo.

"Knock, knock." Geto burst my door open, without actually knocking.

"You know you're supposed to knock on the door before you enter, not say it." I lift my eyes from my book. "What is it?"

"What book are you reading?" Suguru leaned against my doorframe, his tall stature taking up most of the space.

"Suguru I swear, what the hell do you want?"

"I just came in here to say..... you're late to your last class. By like, 30 minutes."

I grabbed my phone and gasped, glaring at Suguru. "You waited until NOW to tell me?!"

"I didn't know it was my responsibility to get you to class on time."

"You knew I was reading, and when I read -"

"You get immersed into the world within the words. I know." Suguru shook his head. "It's one day. I'm sure your professor will be fine with it."

"Who am I? Gojo? I can't sweet talk my way out of things. Speaking of, where is that white haired rodent?"

"I think he's hosting a woman in his room."

The house was mapped out with my room and Geto's room on the first floor, while Gojo, Nanami, and Shoko have their rooms upstairs.

I'm used to sharing almost everything with Suguru, so a bathroom was nothing. The only thing that sucked was hearing girls moans from his room when he decided to bring them home from a night out.

"I'll send my professor an email saying I felt sick. Next time, please get me out of my reading trance if I'm late."

"You got it." Suguru winked, turning on his heel and walking out of my room.

🧦☕🧸🧺🪵

"Shoko, do we have to go out?" I whine, brushing my hair.

"It's Gojo's birthday. We have to. He's gonna drag us out against our will anyways."

I scoff, finishing the curls in my hair. Gojo always goes all out for his birthdays, obviously this year is no different. He reserved a table at a club with his favorite bottles. As his roommates, we're obligated to go.

I ran my fingers over my black ribbed midi dress, accentuating my every curve.

"Your ass looks fat as hell." Shoko smiled, smacking it lightly. "Someones trying to bring a guy home tonight."

"If I bring anyone home, it'll be when no one is here. I hear enough from Suguru and Satoru." I tie my heels up my shins, kicking them up to show Shoko. "The only man in this house that's respectful is Nanami."

"Kento keeps to himself, that's why. He doesn't like hookups, he wants a wife."

"Smart man." I finish my look with my favorite pair of gold earrings, twirling my body. "How do I look?"

"Like any man is gonna want a piece of you." Shoko smiled, flattening her dress. She's sporting a tight, short, green dress with chunky heels.

"Ladiessssssssss." Satoru sang. "It's time to go. The Gojo train is exiting the building."

"Coming!" I grab Shoko's hand and leave my room. The boys are gathered in the living room, Satoru obviously looking the most... well, Satoru. Nanami is wearing a grey suit with a patterned tie, his undercut freshly done. Suguru is wearing a plain black suit with his hair tied up in a bun, but a couple of pieces of hair are in his face.

"Damn." Gojo whistled at Shoko and I. "You ladies clean up real nice."

"Tone it down birthday boy." I roll my eyes, grabbing my purse from the counter. "This happens once a year, so we do this for you."

"I'm eternally grateful." Gojo bowed, his glasses at the bridge of his nose, exposing his piercing blue eyes.

I couldn't help but notice Suguru's eyes glued on me. He's a man of few words, but his body tells a whole story. His eyes followed every curve, mesmerized by the movement.

I'm blaming it on the fact that I never wear dresses like this.

"You ladies do look beautiful." Nanami said, pressing his hands to our shoulders.

"Thank you, Kento." I look to Suguru, who looks like he's fresh out of words for the day.

Nanami ordered the Uber, so it was outside as we all were ready. The Uber was on the same type of time we were - playing club music and lifting our spirits more.

Suguru and I were in the back, per usual. Satoru always wanted to have the front seat, Nanami and Shoko got car sick, so we were stuck with the worst seats.

"Hey," Suguru looked at me with his chocolate colored eyes. "I didn't want to say this in front of Gojo, but you look beautiful."

"Are pigs flying? Is hell freezing over?" I look around, acting like the world is falling.

"That's the last time I compliment you." Geto shook his head, glancing at the window.

We hit a pot hole and my body flys into Suguru's, my tits pressed against his chest.

"Sorry!" The driver said with a toothy smile. "They need to fix these roads."

"Of course you don't have your seatbelt on." Suguru rolled his eyes, but didn't push me off of him.

"I'm sorry, I didn't know you were the seatbelt police." I pulled the seatbelt over my chest. "Won't happen again, sir." I salute, while Geto sucks his teeth.

🧦☕🧸🧺🪵

The club's music is blaring, so much so that I can barely hear a word anyone is saying. Gojo knows everybody, so he's mingling and celebrating his birthday his favorite way - by having other people celebrate him.

I'm sipping on my rum and pineapple, swaying my hips to the music next to Shoko. Geto and Nanami are close by, observing the crowd. Both of them are quiet and like to enjoy the environment since their social batteries are always running low.

"Come on boys, let's dance!" Shoko grabbed Nanami and Geto's hands, bringing them to the dance floor. "You too!" Shoko called my name.

Against my will, I followed Shoko. I'm not the best dancer but I'm not standing by myself at Gojo's table.

Shoko loves to dance, so she's in her element. Nanami dances like an old man - but it's cute at the same time.

Geto sticks by your side, not sure of what to do. He usually follows what Gojo does, since everything Gojo does is 100x more embarrassing than anything he could do.

I start to move my hips to the rhythm of the music when I feel a pair of hands on my waist. The hands are strong and come with a strong fragrance of cologne.

"That dress looks delicious on you." The man whispered in your ear. "My name is Toji."

I told him my name, taking in his features. He's rather muscular with long black hair that covers some of his face.

I put my hand on the back of his neck, pulling him toward me gently. "Do you always grab random women?" I say in his ear.

"Only the ones that look like you." Toji whispered in my ear, earning a smile from me.

I could feel Suguru's eyes burning a hole into my skin.

#geto suguru #jjk suguru #suguru #getou suguru x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen suguru #suguru geto smut #gojo satoru #jjk gojo #satoru gojo #nanami kento #jjk nanami #shoko ieiri #jjk shoko #toji fushiguro

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