#I feel like this is both a blessing and a punishment

[worldofkuro]

Painted Smile

Painted Smile III

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Pairing: Alastor x Female!Reader

Summary: You couldn't wait to meet new friends. What you didn't expect was this smiling little boy, only one year older than you, that would take such a big place in your life.

Notes: Well, well, this chapter is pure fluff. I really liked how it ended up. Please, enjoy it.

“ Can I come in yet?” you asked, outside Alastor’s bedroom, waiting for him to open the door.

You’ve been waiting for five minutes and you weren’t known for being a patient person. You were having a sleepover at Marie’s house after weeks of begging, from you at least. When your mothers said yes, you couldn’t be more ecstatic and even Alastor seemed happier than usual. He did ask you to come with a pretty dress because he had a new game he wanted to play with you. It was unusual but exciting ! 

So here you were, waiting in your pretty dress, your hair perfectly done, and a frown on your face. How long were you going to wait for him? You were ready to knock once again on his door but it jerked open before you could touch it. And there was your friend, his hair slicked back, his glasses on and his usual smile on his lips. You kissed him on both cheeks before he tugged you inside his bedroom.

“ Welcome to my humble Radiobooth !” He said with glee as he showed you his desk with paper spread on it, and.. was it a microphone ? You tilted your head as he forced you to sit down on one side of the bureau. He took the microphone, and spoke.

“ Welcome New Orleans to Alastor’s podcast ! Thank you for tuning in, today I’m thrilled to announce that I will not be alone, I am blessed with the best singer in all Lousianna !” he claimed and shoved the microphone to your face. You looked at his beaming smile and understood what he wanted from you. You smiled as you spoke into the microphone.

“ Thank you Alastor, I’m very pleased and proud to be here, with the best radio host in the world!” you declared, trying to sound ladylike. You grinned at him as you saw his smile sketch at your words.  He gave you some paper with doodles and notes that you began to read the fattest you could as he kept talking.

“ Would you like to talk about something, Miss ?” asked Alastor as he watched you read the notes he gave you. You nodded as you spoke into the microphone, Alastor holding it for you.

“ Well, yes. Last week, at school, a girl mocked my voice, saying I sounded like a dying pig!” You ignored Alastor’s sniggeer as you kept playing your role, reading the topic you were suppose to talk about. 

“ How dreadful ! How could she say something like this?”

“ Right ?” , you decided to go off script, putting the notes down “ but you should have heard her screams when I pushed her into a puddle of mud. Now, who is the pig?” you hid your smile behind your hand like a proper lady as Alastor’s laughter roared in his bedroom, his head tilted back. You giggled as he calmed himself down, holding the microphone to his lips.

“ Oh dear, you sure know how to put up a fight!” He looked down at his notes still giggling.” I did have something similar happening to me: a boy , talking badly about my mother.”

“ What?! How dare he ? I hope you put him in his place !” you shouted, feeling anger circling inside your body. Wait, was it for real or was it part of the show?

“ Indeedy I did, dear. I punched the poor fool, but it seemed like I hit too hard and he went crying somewhere and I was unfairly punished. This is why, my dear, our sleepover was delayed to this day!” he smiled as your mouth was wide open. You applauded him as he beamed with pride.

“ You did well, Mister Alastor!”

You kept doing your broadcast with Alastor, going off script when you wanted to talk about something that happened and he wasn’t there with you. Sometimes you would just shut your mouth and listen to him telling stories, real or not. You could listen to him all afternoon but he always insisted that you participate in the debate or the stories he created. He sometimes teased you as you didn’t know what to say or you couldn’t understand what he meant but you were really having a great time.

“ Oh, so she fell in love? What did you say then?”

“ That she better get up. Now dear listener, we are ready to hear your question !” he said before turning his head toward his door as Marie came inside with food and drinks. “ Oh well, here is the best cook in all of New Orleans, please come Moth- Madame! A round of applause for our new guest!” he said as he stood up, gesturing to his mother to come closer.

Marie laughed as she sat next to you, putting the tray on the desk, minding the notes all over it. You applauded with a big smile as Marie bowed her head. 

“ It’s a pleasure to be here!”

~~~

It truly seemed like Marie was having the time of her life as she was holding her belly, laughing loudly.

“ No Mister Alastor! Sweets are the best food you could ever eat if you weren’t so picky with what  you ate!” you shouted, slamming your fist on the table.

“ Are you saying that my mother’s food is not the best, you brat?” he asked, his eyebrows furrowed but still with his cunning smiling face.

“ I’ve never said that! Don’t put words in my mouth !”

“ That’s what I get for inviting a singer.”

“ Hey !”

Marie applauded before wiping her tears from her eyes. She kissed you both on the forehead before saying she had things to do but she hoped she would be invited once more for another broadcast.

You watched as she left the bedroom before turning your attention to Alastor who was writing notes on papers. You tilted your head before clapping your hands together as you remembered what you wanted to say to Alastor before he made you wait in front of his door.

“ I found a name for our cat!”

“ Our cat?”

“ The one who always hisses at you, yes. Let’s call him… Hissker!”

“ … Well, ladies and gentlemen, we will be back, for now, please enjoy this music I choose for you!” He turned on his radio so you could be lulled by the music. He laid his microphone on the table and sighed as he raised an eyebrow to you. “ Hissker ? I guess it’s because he is always hissing toward me but.. It doesn’t really sound right.”

“ Well.. Hiss.. Hiss…” you tried to find a good name that would satisfy Alastor. “ What about Husker ?” you asked and smiled when you saw Alastor nod. “ It was a very funny game, I hope we will play it again!”

Alastar grinned as he shook his head. “ It is not over yet, we haven't gone through all the notes yet. And you need to sing at the end of the broadcast, aren’t you the best singer in Louisiana ?” he taunted you with a smirk. “ Plus, we have the listener’s question to answer!” He stood up and went to take letters and put them in front of you. You took one and opened it.

“ What is your favorite color ?” you read before tilting your head, looking at Alastor. “ You want to know my favorite color?” He shook his head, claiming that it was the audience’s question, not his ! You smiled, feeling warm inside, it was not everyday that Alastor was curious about you like this, but you didn’t dare to tease him about it. 

“ Welcome back dear listeners ! Our singer here is ready to answer all of your questions !” he took the letters and began to read its content to you. You answer all the questions with sincerity and joy. “ If you could have a superpower, what would it be?”

“ Flying !” you giggled.

“ And now, our last question before our guest’s performance. What do you think about our dear radio host Alastor ?” he stared at you, the letter hiding the bottom of his face you could only see his eyes. You took the microphone from his hand, he surprisingly let you, and with a big smile you shouted.

“ He is the best !”

Your smile widened as Alastar laughed at your answer, clapping into his hands. You felt warm seeing him so happy. You gave him back his microphone but he shook his head and tugged you toward the living room, where a beautiful piano was waiting for you. You looked at Alastor, you didn’t know how to play the piano and he knew that so why…

“ Dear listeners, it’s almost time to say au revoir but before that let’s listen to our beautiful singer here.” he sat on the bench before the piano and began to play a melody. You blushed as you held on the microphone, feeling shy. You looked at Alastor who was watching you, with a big grin before closing his eyes. You took a big breath as you recognized the melody that he played. It was one of your favorite songs… 

You began to sing shyly, waiting for Alastor to laugh at you but he was keeping his eyes closed, moving with the rhythm of the piano’s keys. You closed your eyes as you held the microphone near your mouth, beginning to feel freer and freer. You smiled as you began to dance in the living room, your dress twirling around you. You jumped, moving your head with the rhythm singing like nobody was watching. You were having so much fun, you felt exthrilled, you didn’t care if you were being too loud, if you didn't hit all the right notes.  You opened your eyes and fell into Alastor’s gaze. 

He was staring at you with a big smile, still playing the piano perfectly with a little bit of sweat near his forehead. His hair was no longer neatly slicked back, some curly locks of hair were falling in front of his face. You thought you would feel embarrassed that he was watching you being a dumb happy girl but you just smiled at him, dancing and singing. After a while, even Marie came and you danced with her, as you sang and Alastor kept playing.

It was perfect.

You finished your song, out of breath. Marie applauded you with a big grin as Alastor put his arms around your shoulder and crushed you against his chest. He took back his microphone, thanking his audience as you were looking at him. You remember him being a tad smaller than you, but now… Did he get taller? He forced you to bow before saying goodbye. 

“ It was an amazing performance ! Both of you, you can be proud of you. As a thank you, I have prepared Alastor’s favorite food: jambalaya ! “ She clapped her hands together. You tilted your head, you’ve never eaten this food but from Alastor’s face, you couldn’t wait to taste it.

~~~ 

“ You can sleep with me sweetie, my husband will not come home tonight.” said Marie as you shook your head, holding your plushie against your chest in your nightgown.

“ We are still playing with Alastor! When we are finished, I will join you.” you said with a shy smile. Alastor was behind you, waiting for his mother's permission to stay a little longer awake than usual.  She sighed but at your pleading eyes she accepted your request. You squealed with happiness before running into Alastor's bedroom and jumping on his bed. He came after you, looking at your plushie with a puzzled expression.

“ What is it ?”

“ Well, first of all, it’s a He and he is a deer.” you smiled as you explained that when you were five, you fell down a lake and because you have never learned how to swim, you were drowning but a deer came toward you and bent down his head so you could grab his antlers ! “ My parents said that it was a tree branch that fell down the lake but I’m sure it was a deer !” you pouted, sad that you parents never trust your story. Even if you couldn’t really remember well this story, you knew what you had seen. 

“ So, a deer saved your life from drowning…”

“ Yes, so my parents bought me this deer plushie so now, when I'm scared I can just squeeze him and feel safe!” you demonstrated your words by squeezing your plushie against you. “ Do you want to try it?” 

Alastor stared at you and then the plushie.

“ How can he protect you?”

You rolled your eyes at him before pushing your plushie in his arms. You forced him to hug it, once you were satisfied, you nodded and looked at Alastor who was clearly confused. “ Now, squeeze him !” You looked at him as he squeezed it, closing his eyes. 

You stared at Alastor. You remembered the bruises on his belly that you saw last month. You knew that fathers could be brutal with their son, to man them up as your friends used to say. Maybe Alastor was the same? You loved your plushie, you really did… But maybe, Alastor needed it more than you? You looked at the boy's expression, his eyes closed, his smile hiding in the plushie’s fur, he seemed so relaxed. You nodded, accepting your own decision, until Alastor was safe, you were going to give him your plushie.

“ Mister Deer could be our very first guest in our radio show?” you smiled at him, Alastor opening his eyes slowly, staring back at you. You gulped, maybe it was his show, you were just a guest. You opened your mouth to apologize but Alastor beat you to it.

“ I’d like that.” he whispered with a soft smile. “ Our first guest.”

Without being aware, you both laid down on the bed, Alastor still hugging your plushie. You kept talking even as the sun wasn’t in the sky anymore. You yawned for the third time in the last thirty seconds as you explained how to take care of Mister Deer.

“ Now that I have Mister Deer, who will protect you?” he asked, no trace of fatigue on his face. You smiled tiredly at him, putting your head on his pillow. It smelled like him. You didn’t know why you liked that fact.

“ Well, because you hold Mister Deer, it’s your job to protect me now.” 

“ … So, do I need to hug you?”

You stared at him, his eyes shining with the moon light. A hug from Alastor ? You looked away, blushing but you didn’t know why.

“ M-maybe but…Do you want to …?”

You felt him move and you flinched as he covered your eyes with his hand. You waited for him to answer but you were so tired and now that you were englushed into the darkness with his hand on your eyes you couldn’t help but fall asleep before your could hear his answer. 

~~~ 

Marie walked up the stairs, it was 11pm and it was time for the kids to go to bed. She opened the door to Alastor’s bedroom and couldn’t help but smile at the sweet scene in front of her. Alastor was hugging you with a deer plushie being squished between the two of you. She walked toward the bed and covered the both of you. Well, she couldn’t wait to tell that to your mother! She left the bedroom, closed the door quietly and went to bed.

Tag List: @lukneetoonz @martinys-world @littlepoetnova @sirens-and-moonflowers @eris-norwega

Ps: By the way, my deers, do you have an idea for the plushie's name ? I'm open to ideas.

#hazbin hotel alastor #alastor #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel alastor x reader #alastor headcanons #alastor scenarios #alastor scenario #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel imagine #alastor x you #hazbin alastor #hazbin alastor x reader #hazbin hotel fluff #fanfiction #alastor fanfiction #fiction #alastor fiction

[tswhiisftteedr]

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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[dutybcrne]

Smth smth, Khaenriahns having similar thing to the Ackermans in AoT

#//The whole 'power that can be Awakened in times of duress' #//Exhibiting increased physical abilities; gaining the combined power of Khaenri'ahns before them via some connection to them #//I like it v much #☆ ┆ ( .ooc. ); #//Also v much like the Ackerman Protectiveness™ being PART of it. It wasn't inherently in the og; I know; but IMAGINE #//In addition to getting that Awakened Power; it also lets Khaenri'ahns form a sorta Warrior's Bond w the one fighting w them in the moment #//So the trigger for it would not only be survival; but also a sense of Protectiveness over sb. Not necessarily romantic or anything #//Just a strong feeling of attachment & fealty to the one would TRUST with your very life; reflexively as breathing. Who'd do so in return #//Which would make me both laugh and cry if you consider Diluc & Kaeya #//Just #//Lil bby Kae activating the bloodline instinct during an outing gone South; & having a Crisis bc Luc's not Khaenri'ahn #//Does it even MEAN anything? Will HIS instincts go haywire bc Luc's not Khaenri'ahn? Are the gods gonna PUNISH him for it? #//For imprinting on a Teyvat-born; gods-blessed mortal? Or worse; in doing so; would Luc be damned in the process too? #//Meanwhile bby Luc the INSTANT of their oath to be sworn brothers was just. Already Like That. No Khaenri'ahn bloodline influence #//Heck; mans dramatic ass was prolly Ride or Die; from the START; then with that he had MORE incentive. The perfect fit to complement it #//Close to mutual enough until The Confrontation; then Kae's left reeling. There was nothing to sever on Luc's part; but it still Hurt Kae #//It's in his BLOOD to care abt & protect him. Prolly drive Kae mad when Luc went off to Snezhnaya & went through Hell; knowing he Caused i #//STILL resolved to help & support Luc; as per the inherent purpose of the bond; even if Luc won't want him to. What else can he do? #//The pain of Luc keeping him at arms length & aftermath of the betrayal is Nothing compared to what Kae'll feel if Luc dies; he figures #//And in Different Case; imagine Dain & Halfdan. A bond formed in the most Dire of times for Khaenri'ahns; them already having been close #//Maybe love already having budded b/w them. Only for an extreme life or death to spark it further; as their bond was Sealed #//Imagine if the mutual bond also let them sense each other's emotions; perhaps not ENTIRELY; but Just Enough to tell if they need help #//So if the other needs them; they can Tell right away. To be spurred to action and rush to their side in times of need #//With that; them Immediately sensing the difference as of That Day. The JOY in realizing the very mutual feelings they had in additon #//Feeling each other's love seeping through their bond; fond little bursts & flares felt whenever they think of each other; when they smile #//Warm feelings shared; even when they were apart. ESP then. Them hurrying to the other's side when they sense a dip or cold feeling #//Imagine how it would feel when Dan died; Dain's reeling from his own anguish & Dan's pain; Dan's grief in leaving him like this #//& the Emptiness Dain would feel; as bond b/w them would Shatter as Dan draws his final breath. A part of his heart & soul carved out #//Lmao; this all happened bc I was like 'Ey what if Khaenri'ahns were just Built Different' #//I do like this concept; gonna file it away for later

[fragmentedblade]

"The Creation Furnace provides energy to the Artisanship Commission and ensures its normal operation. Rumor has it that the energy stored in the Creation Furnace is heliobus, an elemental being. A thousand years ago, the heliobi unsuccessfully attacked Xianzhou and was thus ordered to supply energy to the Xianzhou Alliance forever".

#Fragments and scraps #Databank #I talk too much #This is sick tbh. Entirely abhorrent #Again we see the cruelty with which the Xianzhou Alliance punishes #Jing Yuan has a line about how the Luofu always repays those who do good by them or something along those lines #but the same is true of wrongdoings‚ perhaps even more so #I may be reading too much into this but it feels like slavery too and I think it goes in line with the treatment of many auromatons here #We see that with the cycranes and in the flash of consciousness that seems to shine through when connecting to the auromaton of Sensen #We also know from her and Leili that they once were free and rebelled against the humans and thus why they had jade implanted on them #There's also the President of the Merchant Guild‚ who lost his body and his memories because he posed a threat‚ #and that comments he had to cheat on the intelligence test to be able to keep a low profile #Beyond that‚ we also see here again the connection between Abundance and Destruction I'd say #And especially the link between Abundance (and arguably its bound to Destruction here) #and the act of creation undertaken by the Artisanship Commission. I think this is a constant motif in the Xianzhou #but it's particularly clear in its craftsmen I'd say despite how obvious the game makes Abundance's connection to the Alchemy Commission #The first thing that called my attention in this world was how the starskiffs grew from seeds‚ a remnant of the blessings of Abundance #And how much the Xianzhou depends on such blessing. I found it very ironic‚ poetic and realistic. And very coherent #The rebellion against that which sustains them. The worshipping of that which dooms them. How at times Abundance and the Hunt #are not easy to tell apart. How both carry Destruction. How they both carry prosperity‚ creation and permanence #How Destruction too at times carries all those aspects #I really see all these ideas taking place very clearly in the craftsmen and the Artisanship Commission #And it also made me think again of my dream of 5* Yingxing in the path of Abundance xD #I adore the Xianzhou and I say this having a sort of love/hate relationship with it #but I love how the game doesn't shy away from its darker aspects nor tries to paint it as the good party #It's all so interesting and intriguing #I wonder if this has to do with Phantylia‚ if she was trying to take revenge on the Xianzhou. Good for her and tbh very right to do so #Aaaand I was going to keep talking but I've already talked a lot without intending to xD #Was I giving a walk again around the Artisanship Commission and visiting the Furnace? Yes‚ I was. I can't help myself ugh

[saintobio]

LONG LIVE THE VILLAINESS !

amidst the tale of sweetest love and bitterest revenge, the fallen empress is cast back ten years into the past to correct her sins and avoid eternal damnation, even at the price of betraying her once husband, the very cause of her downfall.

♱ pairings. gojo satoru, fem!reader

♱ genre. enemies-to-lovers, period piece, medieval au

♱ tags. ooc, regression, crown prince!gojo, noble lady!reader, politics, classism, clan wars, religion (catholicism), misogyny, violence, war, rebellion, suggestive, smut, gore, double life, explicit language, more to be added

♱ notes. this fic draws heavy inspirations from the webnovel ‘sister, i am the queen in this life’ and manhwa of the same name. it’s basically a fanfic of that series bc i am obsessed with it :’D

♱ status. on-going (slow updates)

♱ THIS SERIES WILL SERVE AS THE THE SECOND TIMELINE -> READ HERE FOR THE FIRST TIMELINE (ORIGINAL STORY) ♱

PROLOGUE.

ACT I. THE LADY

ACT II. THE CROWN PRINCE

ACT III. THE KNIGHT

ACT IV. THE STAR CROSSED LOVERS

ACT V. THE BLESSED

ACT VI. THE SIN

ACT VII. THE REVELATION

ACT VIII. THE ENEMY

ACT IX. THE LOVER

ACT X. THE EMPRESS

EPILOGUE.

PROLOGUE 

Like plunging beneath the surface of water and then, abruptly, breaking through to the air above—your body jolted as if awakening in a new world altogether. You drew in a long breath, your eyes fluttering open to reveal the ceiling, both familiar yet unfamiliar in its greeting. Swiftly, you surveyed your surroundings, noting with growing recognition the confines of your old room within the De Roma estate. The estate! 

You were not in the palace of Caelum, but in the estate of House De Roma. A surge of realization flooded through you as you dashed towards the nearest mirror, confronting your reflection with wide, startled eyes. 

No... could it be... that you have returned to your body, ten years prior?!

In the mirror, the reflection staring back at you was not that of the notorious wife of the tyrant Emperor Satoru, but of a 20-year-old maiden, the eldest daughter of Duke de Roma, with fuller cheeks and a more youthful appearance. You could not shake the feeling of disbelief, wondering if this was all just a dream, so you reached out to touch your arms and felt the flesh beneath your fingers, trying to convince yourself that this was an unexpected reality.

Oh, you were back. You found yourself returned to your former self, a decade younger, but now armed with the knowledge of your past life's actions and their consequences. Alongside this newfound understanding, the gift of clairvoyance had also been bestowed upon you.

And for what? Why had the heavens above returned you to your body? Was it for revenge, a second chance, or perhaps punishment?

Suddenly, a loud, deafening sound pierced your ears, and a blinding white light enveloped your vision. Your body became as still as a statue, and it felt as though your soul was transported to a fourth dimension where divine intervention seemed a lot more plausible to exist.

As your soul hovered in the liminal space between life and death, you found yourself standing before a figure cloaked in billowing robes, her presence commanding and her gaze piercing. This figure was Fortuna, the ancient Caelan goddess of fortune and fate, her visage austere and unforgiving.

“Are you aware of the sins that stain your soul?” 

“Have you felt the weight of your transgressions, the consequences of your actions that have wrought suffering upon your people and brought ruin to your empire?”

Her voice echoed through the realm with the divine judgment that weighed upon your conscience, while her gaze penetrated to the core of your being and demanded honesty and accountability in the face of your past misdeeds.

“Will you atone for your sins?” 

“Will you seize this opportunity for redemption, or will you squander it in self-pity and remorse?”

As you stood in the presence of the ancient goddess, grappling with the heaviness of your sins and the daunting task ahead, a brilliant light had all of a sudden illuminated the space around you. From the heart of this radiant glow emerged the figure of Archangel Raphael, his presence heralded by a chorus of angelical voices and the stirring of celestial winds.

Clad in robes that seemed to shimmer with the intensity of celestial light, Archangel Raphael's presence commanded attention, his wings unfurled behind him in a display of resolute authority. If Goddess Fortuna was intimidating, the archangel was fearsome all the more. His gaze, intense and penetrating, swept over you with a gravity that left no room for evasion or deceit.

“Empress of Caelum,” he spoke, his tone firm and unyielding, and his voice carrying a billion years of heavenly existence, “You stand accused of grievous sins, crimes that have shaken the very foundations of your empire and brought suffering upon your people.”

There was no trace of softness in Archangel Raphael's demeanor, no room for mercy in the face of wrongdoing. His presence was a testament to the uncompromising nature of divine justice, his strictness a reflection of the solemn duty entrusted to him as an Archangel of the Almighty. This, no doubt, was the face of a true and formidable executor of justice.

And you, the subject, had angered the divine beings that guarded the Caelan Empire, so much so that God himself sent the goddess of the land and one of his archangels to mitigate your rightful punishment.

“By the decree of the Almighty, you are granted a second chance to amend your sins and redeem your soul. You shall return to the mortal realm, to live your life anew and correct the sins that have stained your soul.”

“Should you fail to rectify your past transgressions, should you stray from the path of righteousness and succumb once more to the temptations of darkness, know that the consequences shall be severe and eternal.”

“For those who squander the gift of divine mercy shall be cast into the deepest depths of hell, where they shall endure a punishment of unending torment and suffering.”

In the presence of Archangel Raphael and Goddess Fortuna’s equally stern gazes, you were keenly aware of the magnitude of your transgressions and the severity of the judgment that awaited you. But even as you trembled beneath the weight of their scrutiny, you knew that their presence also offered you the opportunity for redemption, with your only task to prove yourself worthy of divine mercy.

Indeed, it was by your very hands that hundreds and thousands of Christian souls shed their blood. Innocent lives, both young and old, were cruelly taken at your command. The citizens of Caelum who fell sick from the spread of the plague. The esteemed Caelan advisors of your husband’s primogenitors, skinned alive and speared in pikes by the Tiber River. The wrongly accused maid who suffered the indignity of serving your husband, paraded unclothed through the streets and subjected to the brutality of the pear of anguish. The gallant and dignified knight, tortured mentally and physically in the atrocious dungeon. Now, you find yourself thrust back into the horrors of your former life ten years hence. A life of a noble lady who ought not to be blinded by her destructive love for the empire’s crown prince. 

Yet, could you truly navigate this life without ascending to the position as his empress?

As you tried to commune with the divine beings afore you, a haze in your vision transported you away from the heavenly space, realizing that you were already drawn back into the reality of your chamber, inhabiting the youthful frame of a twenty-year-old daughter of a duke. You found yourself too astonished to move, too shaken to speak, and too afraid to take any action in this new lease of life blessed upon you. At that very moment, your state of reverie was disrupted at the arrival of your maid, who entered your chamber in a humble servant garb.

Milena. The maid whose life was cut short by your hand in your past existence due to petty thievery. “My lady,” she spoke with a hint of respect and urgency, unaware of the ill-fate you had given her in your past life, “A visitor has arrived at the gates and requests an audience with you. Shall I show them in?” 

Too soon? Need it truly be so soon to engage with the people from your past life immediately after awakening to your old, yet younger body? Gazing upon your maid through the mirror, you asked, “Who is that intruder you speak of?” 

She bowed her head, her stance shifting into one of apologetic deference. The way she firmly stood by your door was a message to you that the intruder was not someone you could easily reject the presence of.

“The visitor is His Highness, Crown Prince Satoru.” 

⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊶⊶⊶⊶⊶♱⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷

#series: lltv #gojo satoru x reader #gojou satoru x reader #gojo x reader #jjk x reader #jjk royal au #slow updates bc sy is prio #i will not write this in archaic english anymore ITS HARD AF #but i had to put this out there so i can remind myself to write it *sobs* #might just write this on the side

[another-lost-mc]

Okay but what if, before MC is taken to the future by nightbringer, they had a big fight with the brothers?

Like, they fought about something and said something along the lines 'go away' ' I don't want to see you', but then, when you don't return they start feeling guilty.

At first they'll think you're angry and don't want to talk with them, but when time passes and you don't return they start to get so worried, looking everywhere for you, regretting that the, possibly, last words they said to you were harsh confrontation.

The angst potential 😭😭 how do you think each of the bros would react?

😈🍬 anon

a/n: well, nightbringer sure is a blessing for angst fans.

the worst goodbye | the demon brothers

2.8k words | gn!reader | sfw | angst

cw: mentions of lesson 16 in belphie's part.

Lucifer goes to his office and pretends that he's not angry. He attempts to distract himself with paperwork, but all he does is read the same paragraph a few times over and over again before he throws the page down with a huff. He taps his pen against his desk while he sifts through the emotions clouding his mind. All he felt earlier was wounded pride—that's why he scolded you with more force than necessary, speaking with his cruel, barbed tongue but regretting it just as quickly. He admires and loathes your feisty temper. You're his stubborn, brave little human that stands up to him when most demons wouldn't dare to try.

He plans his apology like a mantra and goes to your room; he knows if he's sincere, you'll give him a chance to make things right. You don't answer your door when he knocks, and he peeks his head inside to confirm that you're not there. He sends you a message with his D.D.D. and shuffles awkwardly in the hallway while he waits for a reply. He asks in the family group chat, but no one's seen you recently and he ignores the initial tendrils of icy fear that make his chest feel tight. Surely you wouldn't have stormed off in a sulk? But he checks the rest of the house and his brothers realize slowly that something is wrong—you wouldn't just leave. Lucifer searches for you himself, around the House of Lamentation and all around the Devildom, searching for anyone that might've seen you, or any hint of where you've gone. But in the early twilight hours, he pours a glass of Demonus that remains untouched while he stares absently into the fire of his private study. His heart freezes over in your absence. Your warmth thawed his icy demeanor, and the roaring fire crackling nearby can't stop the chills that wrack through him when he tells himself that you're gone and he has no one to blame but himself.

You rarely fight with Mammon these days, but when you do, it spirals out of control. He spits out scathing remarks about how he's sick of you trying to pry your nose into his business because he hates admitting that you're right. You try so desperately not to yell (or cry, or both) when you plead with him to forget about whatever risky scheme he's got planned. It's not worth risking Lucifer's wrath and whatever punishment lies in store when Mammon's plan inevitably fails to his own detriment. He stalks away and ignores the sound of your voice cracking in pain when you call his name one last time—and maybe if he were less incensed, he would stop and turn around and apologize. But today he feels particularly stubborn and he doesn't look back. He fully intends on leaping in his car and driving off into the night to burn off some steam, but he slumps against his bedroom door with his head in his hands and tries to remember why he was so angry with you to begin with. He can't pinpoint the reason and he knows you only have his best intentions at heart.

It feels like hours later when he ends up outside your door, head down and tail tucked firmly between his legs. He shouts through the wood when you don't answer and he swears he didn't mean it, that he'll do whatever it takes to make it up to you. You're too patient and kind and loving for your own good, and he tempts fate every time he takes your forgiveness for granted. He opens the door and scratches his head in confusion when he realizes you're not there. He spots one of his brothers at the end of the hall, and his confusion sours into something ashy on his tongue when he asks him where you are. I haven't seen them—we all thought they were with you!

Leviathan plays his game, tapping the buttons on his handheld with more force than necessary, as simmering anger from your fight earlier darkens his mood. He didn't mean to forget about your lunch date, so why did you get so mad? Maybe calling you a worse nag than Lucifer was over the top, but he planned on making it up to you later! He gets lost in his thoughts and plays his game until he realizes it's been a couple hours and his D.D.D. has been surprisingly silent. Sometimes you message him and invite him to talk things out in your room once you've both had time to calm down. He has no idea what it means that you've ignored him all this time and when he tries to message you first, they go unanswered. He shuffles to your room guiltily and hopes you'll be willing to talk face-to-face. It's almost dinner time, and maybe if you're feeling up to it, he can take you out for dinner. He even canceled his raid tonight so he can spend the evening curled with you on the sofa watching movies instead.

He doesn't expect to hear a commotion as he walks down the stairs to the first floor, and his brothers are crowded outside your room in various states of panic. Lucifer sees him and rushes to explain what's going on, but the words turn to radio static in Levi's head. He doesn't even notice that he drops his D.D.D. and it clatters to the ground, cracking the corner of the plastic case you gave him as a present not too long ago. Instead of cuddling with you on the sofa that night, he curls around his body pillow in the tub, his tail twitching noisily against the porcelain while he buries his head and deafens his whimpers in the tear-stained cotton. Come back, come back, please come back—

When the rage subsides, Satan glances wearily around his room and the terrible mess he's made. Some of his favourite books are ripped and torn to shreds across the floor, but the sight hurts less than the memory of your heartbroken face crumpling in pain as you fought back tears. He's done many terrible things in his life he's not proud of, but insinuating you don't care about him might be the lowest blow he could use during a fight. You've only wanted what's best for him, and you try so hard to show the world that he's more than the violent, angry creature that lurks deep inside him.

If only the world could see you the way I do.

Regret quickens his steps and he leaves the broken chaos in his room to find you because he shouldn't have even let you go. Why did it take him so long to apologize? He doesn't deserve it, but if you'll only give him a chance, he swears to himself he'll make it up to you. He hastily wipes away the tears pooling in the corner of his eyes when he notices his brothers lingering outside your room. They're too distraught to notice the sharp bite in his words when he demands to know what's going on and where you are. Nothing they say makes any sense—you wouldn't just leave, right? He’s the first to tear through the house in a panic to find you, ignoring his brothers’ nervous pleas for him to calm down. You're nowhere to be found and eventually he returns to his room in a trance. No one knows how long he stands there, trembling with regret and shame and fury that someone or something dared take you away from him. All his brothers know, judging by the noise echoing through the halls, is that his room is nearly destroyed as he unleashed his heartbreak in a maelstrom of destructive rage.

Asmodeus takes another selfie and posts it on Devilgram. He hopes the notification will pop up on your D.D.D. and you'll see him having the time of his life at The Fall. He wants you to see it—he hopes it fills you with regret for arguing with him earlier. He doesn't fight with you often, but your tongues are both sharp and laced with venom when you do face off against each other. He enjoyed the anxious gleam in your eye when he backed you into a wall and leaned down so you were nearly nose-to-nose, the sweet scent of his lip gloss lingering in the gap between you while he cooed about how pathetic you looked. But that was almost an hour ago, and he can only pretend for so long that he doesn't regret leaving you stunned and hurt in the front hall when he waltzed out the door and slammed it behind him. The pounding music can't drown out the wicked things he said to you, and the crowd can't distract him from your absence that weighs heavily in his heart. There are many demons nearby who'd kill for his attention, but he knows deep down that the only hands he wants roaming over his body are yours.

It's not long after that he pushes his way out of the club and into the cool night air, but he still hasn't heard from you. Surely you've seen his Devilgram posts by now? You're smart enough to recognize his desperate ploys for attention. Your attention. Are you ignoring him on purpose? Maybe he deserves it, but he's anxious to talk to you and sends you a message on his walk home anyway. Message could not be delivered. The red text pops up on his screen, and he frowns and tries again. Message could not be delivered. He quickens his pace as he taps your contact name and calls you instead. Is there something wrong with your D.D.D.? "The number you have dialed is not in service."

He breaks into a run until the House of Lamentation peeks into view ahead. He bursts through the door and ignores Lucifer's angry shouts behind him as he rushes down the hall to your room, but all he sees is one of your favourite club outfits laid out on your bed, as if you were getting ready to come see him after all. Where are you? His brothers hover behind him and he borrows one of their phones so he can try calling you again. He tells himself that it must be a problem with his D.D.D. because no other explanation makes sense. "The number you have dialed is—" Asmo whimpers pitifully while he listens to the robotic voice drone on speaker for everyone to hear, and his brothers finally realize that something is wrong and split up to search for you. He chokes out your name and slumps onto your bed, inhaling your familiar scent when he holds your shirt, one that he bought you, to his face and sobs. He can hear his brothers' heavy footfalls throughout the house while they look for you, but deep down, he already knows you're gone.

Beel glances at the stands and wipes sweat and dirt from his brow. He can spot his brothers easily enough—it's hard to miss them, with the way Asmo's waving the glittery handmade sign with his name in bold pink lettering—but he doesn't see you. There's an empty space between Mammon and Levi where you normally sit, and they've kept it free for when—if—you show up. You've never missed one of his games, not ever. Maybe the argument earlier upset you more than he realized. He knows you don't normally eat his food on purpose. He knows you meant it when you sputtered apologies when you realized your mistake. He knows how hurt you were when he shouted at you in a hungry rage. The rest of the game passes by in a blur. He moves on autopilot, his mood growing more and more despondent each time he checks the crowd and realizes you're still not there. He barely recognizes his team's happy cheers when the game ends in victory. He has a quick shower and makes his excuses to his teammates because he already has plans for dinner tonight, with you, hopefully. He stops by Hell's Kitchen and picks up your favourite takeaway order and heads home. It's a peace offering, one of many apologies he owes you.

By the time he knocks on your door, he's eager to see you. Silence. He knocks again and waits, and he hesitantly pushes the door open when his greeting goes unanswered. You're not in your room, and after a quick search of the house, he realizes you're not anywhere. He visits your room over and over again as if you'll finally pop out and tell him you were just teasing him, because you wouldn't ever leave him on purpose, right? His name on a handmade sign on your bed, and one of his old jerseys he gave you, are all that you left behind and he wonders if he would've been able to stop you leaving had he come home to you sooner. (Your takeaway dinner remains uneaten in the fridge in case you come back, and Beel refuses to eat it himself or let anyone else eat it either. One of his brothers has to throw it away when it eventually turns rancid—Beel can't bring himself to do it, because it means admitting you may never come back.)

Belphie doesn't like sleeping alone. Most nights if he sleeps alone, it's by choice—his choice. Tonight should've ended like most nights do: with the both of you sharing the bed in the attic. He sleeps better when you're close. You're a warm weight curled against him, and the smell of your shampoo and your minty breath are small comforts when he has bad dreams. Sometimes he wakes up in a panic, his shirt damp with cold sweat, and he listens for your quiet snores, proof that you're alive, that the nightmare of your windpipe crushed in his deadly grip isn't real. Belphie sleeps in the attic alone tonight because you decided you needed space. It's petty revenge for earlier when he woke up from a nap in a foul mood and snapped at you in his frustration. He fluffs his pillow and his bottom lip juts out in a pout. He can't get comfortable and it's your fault. The house grows quiet as his brothers retire to their rooms and fall asleep, and Belphie senses when you finally drift off to sleep too. If he wakes up before you tomorrow, he'll crawl into your bed and hope that you'll be more receptive to his apology when you wake up.

It takes longer than usual but he finally falls asleep and feels content. Even when he's unconscious, he instinctively reaches for your presence and it calms him. Your dreamscape is like a little pond, and he watches from his own nearby shore as your thoughts pass by in a blur, like slick oil paintings skimming over a watery surface. He doesn't like to intrude on your dreams if he can help it—he only interferes when he senses them slipping into nightmares instead. He tells himself it's not selfish to erase them for you, but the truth is that he's not sure he can stomach seeing his own face reflected in your dreams anymore, not with its wicked sneer and bloodstained teeth. He's not sure he forgives himself for what he did to you, and he wonders if you've truly forgiven him too.

Something odd in your dreamscape shifts suddenly and it catches Belphie's attention. The images in your subconscious grow murky and twisted, like they're being sucked down into some unseen void. Your presence is like sand falling through his fingertips, and it's harder and harder for him to feel you. He reaches out to your mind to wake you up because he doesn't know what's wrong, but something about this scares him. He jolts awake in the attic, chest heaving with the final memory of something snapping in his mind, like the cord that tethered you to him was suddenly cut. Eventually his brothers get up too and he can hear the commotion coming from down the stairs. He makes his way to your room in a trance before they can come find him. He already knows what his brothers are struggling to understand, the truth that no one can explain. You're gone somewhere far away, impossibly out of his reach, and he dreads falling asleep and feeling the void your absence left behind.

Sleep evades him until he forces himself to try and rest, and he finds himself in your bed instead of his own. He curls himself around your pillow underneath your sheets, clinging to the last whiffs of your scent, and he hopes you'll wake him up and tell him this was nothing but a bad dream. (Your scent fades away long before the nightmare ends, and he stops sleeping in your room after that.)

read more: obey me masterlist

#obey me #obey me nightbringer #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #lucifer x reader #mammon x reader #leviathan x reader #satan x reader #asmodeus x reader #beelzebub x reader #belphegor x reader #obey me angst #obey me headcanons #obey me x reader #gn!reader #x reader #jes.😈🍬 anon

[angelsforthenight]

BEYOND SALVAGE — ellie williams x fem!reader.

a catholic boarding school AU pt 1 🍓

pt 2 here!

you’re somebody that’s virtuous, staying in an all girls catholic boarding school. fallen victim to the vast fear of god, you try your hardest not to sin. however what happens when an embarrassing incident catches a certain rogue girl’s attention — who absolutely reeks of sin?

content: heavy religious talk, catholic, holy! reader, rebel!ellie, quiet!reader, player!ellie, ellie has piercings, ‘lil raunchy but no smut (yet heheh), v brief mention of drugs, v brief mention of porn.

a/n: this is a rewrite of a fic i did back in the summer! i had accidentally (and stupidly) deleted my account :,) let’s pray people see this.

having lived in a catholic boarding school for half of your life, it’s only natural you were heavily religious. the fear of god plagued you like a disease. you were nailed on following the Word, and earning a seat in heaven — not it’s roaring, fiery counterpart.

you were a good girl: always following the rules the sisters bestowed upon you. always deemed as pure, and untainted. you prayed every night without fail: knelt beside your bed, elbows against the mattress, hands clasped together.

you had always tried your hardest to stray away from sin. however, there’d be temptations, of course. for instance, that one time you caught a bunch of girls in your dorm giggling and squealing at a porno-magazine they had randomly found somewhere. you had accidentally caught a very brief glimpse at a woman flaunting her tits and you couldn’t quite put your finger on it, but it made you feel something. a needy little throb between your thighs. that night, consumed with guilt, you had prayed so hard that your head hurt.

oh, and if we’re talking about temptations? ELLIE WILLIAMS had to be the hardest one yet.

take the word sinful and ellie would come to mind. she was someone you had always tried your best to avoid. rebellious, brash and cocky. it was said she was forced here as punishment from her parents. she had always been hard to discipline: had piercings (spider bites and one on her right brow), always snuck out and was notorious for smuggling in drugs.

even though ellie was a pain, there was no way the nuns could expel her since her parents sponsored the school a generous amount. they had to resort to seeing ellie as someone they could “save.”

whenever she roamed the hallways, every girl would scramble to move out of her way. she was incredibly intimidating and got into fights whenever she wanted to — both with students AND the sisters. of course you wouldn’t want to mess with her.

there were also numerous rumours circling around about her. too many to count, but one stuck with you the most: that she gets it on with girls. hearing from your gossip-gripped friends that ellie had fucked a handful of girls in your school had surprised you. you were brutally naive, so preoccupied with seeming good in the eyes of the Lord that you weren’t aware that something like that could happen. this had only made you want to stay away from ellie even more.

you were quiet, so timid and meek that you believed yourself lucky to actually have friends. your quietness allowed ellie not to notice you, not even be aware of your existence despite you two being in a lot of the same classes. you didn’t mind — in fact, you were glad. relieved, even.

that is, until the school’s annual sports day.

it was a scorching hot day in the middle of june and many of the girls were excited. not particularly because of the sports but because every time, the neighbouring all boys school would join yours. a classic boys versus girls. you didn’t really care whether the boys were here or not, as opposed to your friends who were all bashful and red-faced. you found it understandable considering they’re sheltered away from them most of the time. bless them.

you and your friends were leaning against the fence of the tennis court. you were so hot that your t-shirt stuck to the small of your back, little baby hairs glued to your forehead. bored from all the boy-talk, your eyes decided to drift to a certain auburn-haired girl: manspreading on the bench right across from you. you wondered how a woman could sit so unladylike.

ellie was out of breath, probably from doing a running activity. there was visible sweat gleaming on the corner of her forehead and her cheeks were pink. god knows why, but you allowed yourself to prolong your stare. you watched as ellie grabbed her water bottle, gulping down desperate sips; some of the water spilling and dripping down her slender neck. you watched as the skin on her neck bobbed as she sipped, heard as she panted breathlessly like a dog. you felt the skin on your cheeks begin to prickle, and you suddenly found it hard to breathe. when her pale green eyes caught yours, you immediately looked away, turning your attention back to your friends. that was the first time you two had ever made eye contact.

a moment later, it was your group’s turn to play tennis. ellie remained perched on the bench, and as you waited in the queue to have a go on batting the ball, you happened to be quite near her. you tried your very best to play it cool. ellie paid no attention, spaced-out and obviously too lazy to participate in the activities.

there were also boys in the queue, right behind you, which had got your girls in a frenzy. one of your friends decided to push you against them. “oops” she would say before purposely bumping you towards them again and again. you were awkward and uncomfortable, but you had played it off and giggled, acting as if it was funny. at a point, she accidentally pushed you too hard which made you lose your balance; stumbling on your heel and falling backwards. right onto ellie’s lap. yep! her lap.

“woah?” ellie said, caught off guard. “oh shit. go. go!” your so-called friends murmured as they scrambled off, leaving you completely and utterly humiliated. you immediately bolted off her lap as you turned around to look at her.

“i’m really sorry. that was— i mean, my f-friends were…” you began to ramble, feeling your whole body turn hot. ellie’s lips cracked up into an amused grin.

“it’s chill. not very often you get a cute girl sitting on your lap for less than a second.” she chuckled. you blushed immensely, before rapidly nodding and speeding away.

if only your little innocent self knew how quick things would change…

a/n: hooked? read pt 2 here!

#ellie williams #ellie tlou #ellie the last of us #ellie x fem reader #ellie x reader #ellie x you #ellie smut #ellie williams smut #tlou2 #ellie tlou2 #ellie x y/n #the last of us #tlou fanfiction #tlou #lesbian

[heartlyrins]

OUTLUCK THE UNLUCKY !

˚₊‧desc— Kakavasha and his little sister has always been the polar opposite, they say he was born lucky and you were lucky to even be born.

˚₊‧TW— dark content, incest, angst, noncon, smut, manipulation, gaslighting, mental abuse, past child abuse, human trafficking mentions, past trauma, PTSD, porn with plot, baby fever, non-consensual breeding, mentions of lactation, sister wife!reader, yandere!Aventurine, 2.0 and 2.1 lore did not happen here, spoilers for Aventurine's backstory, both of them gone through some tuff stuff

˚₊‧A/N—I made a few changes to Aventurine's backstory and 2.0 w/ 2.1 lore didn't happen here. I changed up my writing style!! Do you like it? Don't read if it's not ur cup of tea hun

Ever since you were born just a couple of years after Kakavasha—your big brother. You were disgraced, labeled as an unlucky being said by the Sigonians.

Whereas Kakavasha was born on a rainy day which was perhaps meant to be a blessing. Meanwhile, you were born on an unlucky day and just moments after your birth, your mother died.

Though as you grew up, you became attached to your big brother. A contrast to your unluckiness, his blessing outpowers your curse therefore you two were bound to be attached to the hip.

A curse you were called, but never by your siblings. They loved you dearly which includes you sister who promised you and Kakavasha the dawn one day.

But the promise were never fulfilled because your sister had died as soon as your birthday arrived. You ran away with Kakavasha.

Soon the both of you were caught and sentenced to death by the IPC— but your brother got the both of you out of that punishment, you never knew how he did it and the only thing he told you was 'not to worry.'

You fit into the lifestyle pretty quickly, everything was done by your brother. You just had to sit still and be pretty, as he said.

Soon he became the very thing that ruined yours and his life—an IPC staff, but still you couldn't shake the very feeling that you both were still just a slave, no matter how much credits you were buried in.

You were granted a house, a luxurious one, probably afforded from the IPC's money. He was doing everything for you, even though you wanted to help him at least a little bit.

You wanted to alleviate his burden. But seeing the very thing that burdens yourself—you don't think that you could help.

So you did the only thing that you could manage, become a housewife for him. At mornings he would wrap his arms around your waist and sometimes you felt like a real marriage couple.

He gives you kisses on your cheek as he stares at the wound you received from chopping up the vegetables— again.

Sometimes he would bring your fingers up to his lips just to lick them clean just to see your embarrassed expression.

Which brings you to the present situation.

"Kakavasha—I.." you were cut off with a groan from him as he hides his face in your neck.

"Don't call me that, I go by Aventurine now with other people, remember?" his breath hits your soft skin before he snakes his hands under your blouse.

"We're not in front of other people now.. And it's not like I get to meet anyone else.." you mumble—far too late to take back your words.

He gives you an 'mm' before gripping your sides harder that it was sure to leave a bruise. From his reaction, you were sure he wasn't pleased with your words.

"You don't need anyone else but me, you know that right?" he mutters before helping you to put down the knife you were holding to chop the vegetables.

"I know that.. But I haven't gone out ever since we've gotten this house.. And that was a few years back."

"But I do let you out. To buy groceries."

"Kakavasha—you know that's not what I meant. I want to go out freely, without you sending those IPC guards after me or tracking me.. Or even—!"

"[name]." the tone in his voice makes you stop, you know that's when he's fed up with your words. He pulls his hands out of your blouse before staring at you.

He grabs the sharp and brandished knife before gripping your chin with his free hand to make you face the knife, you could see your reflection.

"Look at yourself." he grips your chin tighter, "Do you see your face? It's full with scars that results in whenever I'm not there—remember, you're the unlucky child who needs me as a lucky charm to protect yourself."

"You need me." he drops the knife on the cutting board before kissing your lips and biting your lips until it bled.

He sighs as his demeanor starts appearing right back and he smiles on again with the same, sly smile.

"Don't speak of this again." he warns you before kissing your cheek and walks away like nothing happened at all.

He waits by the door as he tries to fix his tie, horribly messing it up once again before you came to the rescue and does it for him.

"I'm going now," he says as he puts on his shoes, "I'm going to be late today, don't wait for me." he merely says before placing a kiss right on your forehead.

Once he leaves the house, everything seems dark. Sometimes it seems like that you were the epitome of darkness—and he was the light that shines on your life.

Whenever he isn't there, parts of you disappear.

"Big brother, we can't leave our sister behind!" the small you sobbed when he pulled on your wrist to drag you forcefully from the chaos.

"Sister sacrificed her life for us, we have to run,[name]. I promised sister I won't let anything happen to you." he stops for a moment as he looks right into your teary eyes.

You stared back at the chaos happening behind you, that day—everything was red like the clothes you wore on that exact day.

You were dragged once again to keep moving forward by Kakavasha, but once you stared right ahead—the little hand dragging you were gone.

The only light within your life was gone, where did he go? What are you gonna do? What would you do without the light that guides you—you thought as you broke down in sobs until your body felt a warmth wrapping around you.

You can hear your name from the distance being called once again, it's Kakavasha. You were sure it was as you open your eyes to come back to the real world.

"[name], wake up. You had a dream." your brother— the grown up version of him was her once again and you sigh in relief.

You hate that dream—it was the same dream with different endings. One that would have a happy outcome.

"Did you have that dream again?" he asks and wraps his arm around you, it was the same warmth in that dream.

You hum as he sighs once again, in a pitiful way or somehow a sympathetic one. Eitherway, his hand snakes just above your waistband and sticks his hand in your panties.

"Mmn—" you groaned and look at the time, "Stop it, I'm not in the mood.." you retaliate, sometimes he would back off at times like this—especially during your vulnerable moment.

"I saw a baby today at my workplace, one of my co-worker's no doubt. They looked so happy, can't we have one too?"

"I—you know we can't have that. We're siblings, what would the world says?" you push his arm off that's groping one of your boobs.

"I don't care what people says about us, I don't even care how the Aeons view us." he moans as he humps your ass.

"Stop it, 'm not in the mood right now.." You whimper and attempts to get away from his obvious dick imprint humping you.

He stayed silent and kept a tight grip on your hips, sliding your shorts and panties off with his other hand.

"We're not supposed to be doing this.." you mutter and almost retch as he forces his fingers in your mouth.

"Just be good for me, little sister. Haven't I done enough for you? I need this." he says, not giving you a chance to respond as he's already pulling his fingers out of your mouth and already sneaking between your thighs.

"You say things as if you aren't wet right now.." he spreads your lips apart to admire your pussy before giving a testing lick and moans at the taste.

He wraps his lips around your little nub as he sucks on it, thrusting his fingers inside whilst licking your slit up and down.

Your first reflex was trying to push his head off—moaning and struggling to push him off so you laid off the fight and just accepted it after awhile.

"Pussy's so wet, stop lying and just tell me that you wanted this." he pills away and sighs as he finishes his meal, your juices slipping down his chin.

He licks his lips and pushes his cock inside you, not even giving you a warning or time to wait. He groans as he pushes in all at once.

"So good, mhm. You're so good to me, lil sis. Gonna make you a fucking mommy! yeah, you want that?" he slaps your face almost gently to wake you up from your trance before groping your tits.

He leans down and sucks on it, appreciating the size of it while he sloppily thrusts his big cock inside of you.

"Fuck, fuck.. Can't wait to see these tits swell with milk." he moans and looks at your face, you seemed so out of it.

He can't miss the way that your lips scream the words trailing along, "I'm coming! I'm coming!" in an almost high pitched tone.

When you clench around him, he doesn't even stop for a moment. Just going at a faster pace which makes you even more out of it as you hold onto whatever you can.

And when he cums— he pulls out and shoves it back in all at once making you squeal and raise your hips as you came once again.

"We're gonna do this for at least another three times, I need to make sure you're knocked up." he groans as he felt you clench.

As he thrusts deeply once more, you can feel a part of yourself disappears. The warmth you felt from him was no more, instead what you felt was pleasure—accompanied by a sense of sadness.

You can feel tears hitting your cheek and you look up to see your big brother crying, while also trying to maintain a stable composure.

"I don't want to lose you." he sobs out as you reach for his cheek to caress the soft flesh. He leans into your soft touch with reluctance, so hesitant to show a moment of vulnerablity to everyone except for you.

"I can't lose you, please don't leave me as everyone did. You're not— you're not the source of anyone's misery, I didn't believe it when you were called unlucky. Because to me— you're the very thing that made me so happy, I want to be with you forever. I don't care if everyone else leave me."

You smile—not because you find this situation comforting, because it was so incredibly hysterical that he depended on you as much as you depended on him.

Once he's faced with your smile, he loses his composure and spills his seed in your womb while hiding his face in your neck again.

"I don't care how many nightmares I have from that night, I don't care if everyone blames you for our parent's death. All I want to be is with you."

That's when you realize, he is stuck with you just as you were stuck with him.

#tw.noncon #tw.dark content #tw.dubcon #tw.incest #aventurine noncon #aventurine x y/n #aventurine x you #yandere aventurine #star rail aventurine #aventurine smut #aventurine x reader #hsr aventurine #aventurine honkai star rail #aventurine angst #angst #hsr angst #yandere hsr #yandere honkai star rail #honkai star rail smut #honkai star rail #honkai star rail noncon

[ozzgin]

Hello.

Do you think I can request headcanons for Nakamaro ?

Like in an alternate route, reader and him (he's in his twenties because... magic ?) are married and reader is pregnant.

But the funny thing is, Nakamaro can't bully the yokais because reader will exorcise him each time he tries.

Aaaaah I finished writing and only afterwards it occurred to me you might've wanted a modern day reader for this. 😭 I imagined the events in his own timeline. Oh well. I think it can work both ways. Just replace the ancient pouch with, I don't know, a visa card that he throws at your parents for wife payment.

Yandere! Onmyōji x Reader

Yokai Harem AU as the wife of Abe no Nakamaro, a legendary sorcerer and collector of yokai. Although you're not quite as powerless as to not keep his cruelty under control.

Content: female reader, arranged marriage, mentions of pregnancy

[Main Story] [Character Guide]

Your family had vehemently opposed the marriage. To think their one and only daughter would fall into the hands of such a cruel man. The famous Abe no Nakamaro, descendant of Abe no Seimei himself, has quite a contradicting reputation. He has saved many lives, cured countless illnesses, protected villages from monsters and brought peace to the land. Yet many have also witnessed his ruthless nature: the arrogance he has towards humans, the disdain and utter disgust he harbors towards demons. He is quick to punish, rarely forgives, and never forgets. The yokai he’s captured under a binding contract are kept on a leash, like cattle before slaughter.

It is this man who approached your parents one day, when you were still young, demanding your hand. He claimed you had special powers and a lot of potential under the right guidance. Such spiritual prowess would waste away in a family of plebeians. You don’t remember much of the discussion, only the expressions: the man’s mocking grin as he threw a pouch fattened with coins, the frown of your parents who wanted to refuse, the uneasy, grim eyes of the horned demons brought to intimidate. It was clear they were there against their will. One will find just how difficult it is to go against the wishes of the onmyōji, and you happened to be his most ardent desire. Thus, with a heavy heart, you’d been sent away with the stranger who promised you were to live a life of luxury. One your parents could never afford.

True to his word, you have not struggled since. In Akutagawa’s short masterpiece, Hell Screen, artist Yoshihide is wicked and vicious towards everything and everyone except his beloved daughter. Similarly, the sorcerer seems to have a soft spot for you in particular. He often praises your talent, and patiently caters to your whims without complaint. You once inquired about it yourself, as the idea weighed heavily on your mind: why is it that he does not show the same hostility towards you? He stared at you as if you just grew two more heads. "You're my wife. What else is there to question?"

This favoritism, however, is to the benefit of everyone. Especially to the yokai under his command. You've grown rather fond of the demons in your years spent alongside them, and they've quickly learned that your presence means safety from any punishment. Some need reassurance more than others. To these you've even begun to feel like a motherly figure, shielding them from the wrath of an unforgiving master. At last, an authority even Abe no Nakamaro himself can't disobey: the word of his wife.

And soon enough, as if your marriage wasn't already the ultimate argument, you welcome the return of your husband with the news he's always longed for: you are the soon-to-be mother of his child. His name has just been guaranteed to continue its course through time. To say he is elated is an understatement. You've only seen him smile so genuinely once before in your life, on your wedding day.

"Can you imagine the powers this child will command?" He muses, referring most likely to the fact you've both been blessed with an innate, unmatched talent in onmyōdō. You finish rolling the parchment paper and gently tap his head with the scroll in a scolding manner. "You better not burden the kid with your bizarre expectations!" The same man feared throughout the country is chuckling apologetically at your gesture. "As the Mother says."

#yandere #yandere yokai harem #yokai harem #yandere onmyoji #yandere x reader #yandere x darling #yandere x you #yandere male #yandere headcanons #yandere imagines #yandere scenarios #yandere oc x reader #yandere oc #female reader

[themotherofhorses]

maybe you think that you can hide (i can smell your scent from miles)

summary: let it be known that accepting defeat is not in aemond targaryen's nature. and with a witch now in his hands, the distance between you and him is only shortening.

pairing: (somewhat) dark!aemond targaryen x fem!reader

warnings: explicit language. mentions of violence, previous smut, and child loss. male masturbation. massive obsessive tendencies on aemond's part.

notes: to quote my mom, megan thee stallion: "pressed, stressed, obsessed, i got 'em."

masterlist | series masterlist

part one | part three | part four | part five

The rain was light. From his chamber’s windows, Aemond One Eye could see the fat raindrops fogging up the glass frames and mudding the open courtyard below, where he usually trained under Ser Criston Cole. The evening weather was peaceful and calm, very soothing, but Aemond’s mind was anything but.

He had been counting the days, as it was all he could do right now.

Three months, perhaps even four, since his own lady wife vanished, leaving no trace of herself behind.

Aemond deeply regretted not having a septon marry the two of them in the eyes of the Seven that very night that he claimed her, or whisking her away to Dragonstone in secret to wed her in the customs of his ancestors. Oh, he knew that his family would object to the marriage, but he did not care. She was his, and they could not, would not, deny that. She and the babe. They both belonged to him.

And now they were gone.

It weighed him down most days- if not all, a sort of feeling so heavy in his chest that sometimes it made it hard to breathe. Were they both alright? Safe and healthy? Had she gone against his wishes and returned to her homeland? Aemond had no way of knowing the answers and that itself was most upsetting, because what if they were dead? Or injured, with the Stranger trailing after them, awaiting the chance to rob them from him?

He shakes his head at that. I will find them, he swears to himself, while a fist clenches into a tight ball, no more of these ill thoughts.

But with no more ill-mannered thoughts come those of vengeance and punishment.

How dare she, this lady wife of his, flee from him!

He promised her everything under the golden sun and more- a plentiful and comfortable life as a princess of the realm and the mother of his heirs, as well as his very own beating heart and soul and seed. What more could the foolish girl long for? Aemond stares out the window, towards the gentle hill slopes of the realm’s countryside. The land was silvery from the rain and blanketed with a thick mist. What could her homeland provide that he could not?

He sighs before turning back to his empty bed, the left side, from where she once laid, now cold and untouched, with her sweet scent slowly fading. He hates it.

Yet some of it was still left, to his many blessings, and he brings the sheets to his nose, taking in a deep whiff.

The smell makes his cock stir and harden in his pants, and he soon grows too weak in the knees and in his resolve. He tears off his trousers and lays on the bed, his cock in one hand, and her side of the sheets in the other, his mind spinning countless images of his young bride. Every thought sent more blood rushing in between his legs, memories of her pretty body and all the marks and bruises her skin wore, her cries and whimpers, and the way her tearful eyes bore into his.

After that night, he took her more and more, in varying positions. Some new, others old. Sometimes he mounted her from behind, shoving her face down into the pillows to muffle her loud moans and screams as her hips slapped against his, and while that was pleasant, he soon realized he did not care for such. Aemond liked seeing her beautiful face twisted in pleasure and the way her breasts bounced with every thrust, and how she easily flustered whenever he leant to whisper a string of praises in her ear.

He also liked when she sat on her knees with his cock in her mouth, her tongue working wonders as she stared up at him as if he was a god and she one of those whores that belonged to the Street of Silk. But he never dared mutter those kind of words aloud, fore his lady wife was so much prettier than them damned wenches, too sweet and innocent and pure, and wholly his.

And not long after that, she began to glow, the sort that came only with motherhood.

He loved it and felt nothing but immense pride.  

Was she still glowing, and swelling with his child? Aemond was certain she was, and he could only imagine the sight, one most beautiful to man. He remembered his mother’s pregnancy with his younger brother- how her feet constantly ached, and all the times she would ask Ser Cole to fan her, or switch gowns because she grew too uncomfortable and moody.

Was it the same for his wife? Were her little feet hurting as well?

The thought of such makes him bite down hard on his bottom lip, trying his best to swallow his own grunts and moan, and with a whine so unlike him, the head of his cock weeps and spills more of his seed, down his hand and onto his thighs.

What a waste, he thinks emptily, while eyeing the mess he had made, all this belongs to her, yet the foolish girl refused to see it.  

Heaving out yet another heavy sigh, he reaches for the rag that sits to his side. What more could be done? Nothing. Foolish, foolish little girl, he clicks his tongue, all this because of you. He then calls for the maid, requesting for her to draw him a bath.

Tonight, he will dream of his lady wife and their little babe and the life they should be sharing at this very moment. He will ponder over names and if the child will favor her looks or his, and how he will need to meet with the royal seamstress for a layette. And as he sinks himself into the scalding hot waters of the bathtub, he smiles in contentment.

One-eyed Aemond Targaryen will have his wife, and his child too, by any means necessary. 

It was after he sacked Harrenhal that Aemond finds the opportunity he had been waiting for.

The sixth month was nearing with still no sign of his little wife, though the princeling did not dare to consider admitting defeat. There was much pent-up frustration and fury within him, festering from all the damned months he faced of constant loneliness and dryness, and the riverlands faced the brute of it, most notably House Strong. In the ward of Harrenhal, at the hands and command of Prince Aemond, no Strong was spared- neither trueborn nor bastard, all but Alys Rivers.

He had previously heard that the rivers woman was an alleged woods witch, though she dabbled in other branches of the craft. Blood magic too, several little birds say as well.

It gives him an idea.

So he demands two of his knightsmen to bring to him the wet nurse, dark-haired and twice his age. When she stands in front of him, dressed in a soft emerald gown and with her bodice sullied wet from her breast milk, he does not expect for her to bat her black eyelashes and promise to warm his bed if he grants her protection.

“I can be of great use to you,” she adds, in tones thick with seduction.

But Aemond is quick to unsheathe his sword and hold it at her throat. “It should be known that I carry no love for your kind, witch, and that I dare not touch another woman who is not my wife,” he seethes, pressing the blade harder against her skin, “-either you pledge to help me find her, or I will sever your tongue. Perhaps I’ll send it to the whore of my eldest sister as a gift, seeing how she loved you Strongs so much.”

In the back stands Ser Criston Cole, biting his own tongue from saying anything. He may have been the second son of Viserys Targaryen, but Prince Aemond was the knight’s through and through.

The woman nods, and Aemond pulls back his sword. In his mind, he is giddy with excitement at the thought of finally having his dear wife back in his arms, where she belongs.

And the babe, he can hardly wait to see him too.

Alys wipes away the tiny welts of blood budding along her neckline, grimacing. She recognizes the blade as Valyrian-steel, with an edge that could have cut her head clean off. It is probably spell-forged too, she thinks. “My time and craft come with a price, Prince Aemond,” she says, steeling her voice to hide the fact that she is licking her wounds. “I expect to be paid in return.”

“Yes, I know,” Aemond hums, while sliding his sword back into its sheathe. “You will keep your life, and still have the chance for more babes to feed from your chest.”

He debates whether to bring her back to King’s Landing, in case his own children need a wet nurse, but the thought is off-putting, and he wishes not to offend his wife when she returns. Instead, he turns back to study the rivers woman. “My wife is missing,” he says, “and I wish to find her and bring her home.”

Alys frowns. “When was the last time you saw her?”

“Six months ago, in our room. She disappeared the next morning, leaving nothing behind.” Aemond sighs. “She is with child,” he says ruefully, “and I worry every day." He rubs at his temple, shaking his head. "This is her first babe, and mine as well. I have made her into a new mother with the promise to remain by her side, but now she is gone, and I haven’t the slightest clue where she might be.” The pain returns again, followed by anger and frustration, as well as the deep regret for not doing things differently.

His words give Alys a chill. She always had a soft spot for children and the young maidens that found motherhood too soon in their lives. Maybe because that was her once, so many moons ago, losing child after child well before their lives began.

She mourned so many dead babes that the thought of another girl going through the same felt sinful.

Finding sudden courage, Alys takes Aemond’s hand in hers. “Let me help you, Prince Aemond,” she tells him, all with the gentlest smile. “A father should be with his children, and a wife with her husband.”

His violet eye finds her green ones, and she catches the smallest glimmer of hope flickering within. “Thank you.”

“Blood magic would perhaps be the best way to find your wife, my prince.”

Aemond tilts his head at Alys. “How so?” The Faith of the Seven went against magic, and harbors little love or respect towards those who practice it, and he grew up with similar sentiments. But at this point, he is too desperate to care. All he wants is her back.

May the Father and the Crone forgive him in his later years, though he has a feeling that the Mother might be rather sympathetic and understanding towards his situation.

“It is a strong and powerful craft,” Alys explains, “capable of things beyond our own understandings. This sort of magic- it has the power to deliver life and then steal it away. ”

He hums, nodding along. “And how would it work?”

Alys pauses, unsure of how to say her next words. “It would require the blood of your wife, my prince,” she says, carefully, “even just the tiniest droplet would work well. I could call upon my own gods to find her. If she pricked her finger on a needle or scraped her knee, as long as it drew fresh blood, there is no use in her hiding.” But her head then drops, and her shoulders slump too, “Yet seeing how she has been gone for so long, I do not know how it could be done, or what else to do in that matter.”

Aemond remains quiet from where he sits by the room’s hearth. He brushes his knuckles against his lips as he thinks, and thinks, and thinks some more. “Would dry blood work?”

Alys blinks. “Well, maybe?” Her mouths flatten in a line as she ponders over the idea, trying to remember if her old readings ever mentioned anything about dried blood and rituals. “I suppose so, my prince,” she replies with, fiddling with her long and thin fingers, “Blood is blood, regardless of time.”

At that, he leaves the room, only to return several minutes later carrying a single bedsheet, cream in color. Alys watches as he drapes it over the chair he had sat at, making sure to smooth out any wrinkles. When he is done, he calls for the witch to join his side, and when she stands next to him, he gestures to a bloodstain at the center, dried and a bit crusty but still obvious.

“My wife’s blood,” he says, smirking, “from the night I took her maidenhood and gave her our son.”

Alys glances at him, and her lips pull back into a smirk too. “Perfect.”

tag list: @minttea07 @narwhal-swimmingintheocean @smolnuggie911 @marahisthebest @bibli0thecary @whatsonthemirror @bellaisasleep @witchy-jadda @princeaemond1eye @mefools @xcharlottemikaelsonx @browngirl101

(if I did not tag you, it’s because it did not let me! im sorry, little love, the tumblr gods hate me today.)

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x modern!reader #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen #aemond one eye #dark aemond targaryen #aemond smut #house of the dragon #house of the dragon imagine #hotd fanfic #vic writes 🧸

[matryosika]

Extracurricular

Pairing — Hyunjin x fem!reader Wordcount — 9,281 words Includes — College AU, strangers to something. Shy and inexperienced Hyunjin. Explicit content, smut warnings under the cut. Author's note — This was... a ride. I'm used to writing super filthy smut, but I think this one is pretty soft and wholesome. I enjoyed this idea a lot, and I enjoyed writing it too. I was between Seungmin, Mark and Hyunjin for this one, but I eventually decided to go with Hyunjin because... I don't think I've read a lot about him in this kind of dynamic haha. Also to indulge myself. I hope you guys like it; if you do, please like/reblog and leave an ask or comment! Remember that I own a ko-fi, in case you want to support my work further (link in my post pinned!) Every tip is super helpful to me.

Smut warnings: Kind of perv!Hyunjin if you squint. Hyunjin gets hard during a non-sexual context and reader catches it. Soft dirty talk, handjob, fingering, oral sex (both m. and f. receiving), deepthroating and super soft face fucking, cum eating, multiple orgasms (for both characters). Penetrative sex, unprotected sex (contraceptives are discussed), creampie.

[15:47 p.m.] You: 8, my place. 

Hyunjin tilted his head while reading your text, unsure about what he should reply. It wasn’t a question, nor a proposal; it was an order, something he had to accept rather than negotiate. 

[15:48 p.m.] Hyunjin: Yeah. 

For once, he was glad about being partnered with someone who enjoyed taking the lead. Had it been any other classmate of his, Hyunjin was sure he would’ve been forced to take the initiative. 

This time around, though, he wasn’t. But at what cost? The relief of being grouped with someone like you wasn’t as comforting as any other would think. Sure, more than one classmate would’ve done anything to be paired with you, but Hyunjin just couldn’t feel the same. 

[15:50 p.m.] You: my apartment is near Namyeong station. 

[15:50 p.m.] You: I'll text you the address later, wait. 

He spent the following hours waiting for your text, wondering how fate had played such cards on him. Was it a divine punishment? Or a devilish blessing? Hyunjin just couldn’t know.

*

He stood in front of your apartment door for minutes, debating on whether he should knock right away or wait a little bit longer. The clock on his cellphone screen Hyunjined 8:02, yet he didn’t want to look too desperate to get inside your place, even when he was.

So, Hyunjin opted to wait a few more minutes before knocking on your door. He thought about it as a way to soothe himself, though it was useless —no amount of waiting time could fight the awkwardness of getting to hang around you for a whole evening.

Despite knowing that, he tried his best. He brushed his sweaty palms against the fabric of his sweatpants, fixed his hair, cleared his throat, and rehearsed his greeting.

“Hey,” he whispered to himself. Too sharp. “Hello,” too weird. “Hi,” totally not like him.

“What’s up?,” Hyunjin finally concluded. What’s up? Casual, friendly, and not too uptight —even when that's probably one word he would use to describe himself.

With tons of hesitation, and motivated by the already wasted time, Hyunjin finally knocked on your door. He went for three knocks, one right after the other.

Surprisingly, you answered the door after the second one.

“What were you doing?”

It wasn't that Hyunjin needed to have everything under his control, but he wished to have at least some of it. From the moment you choose your own place for the project meeting, to the blunt question you welcomed him with, Hyunjin felt nothing but uncertainty.

In any other situation, or with any other person, he would've been the one leading the way. He would've been at the comfort of his place, welcoming his guest the way he wished to be welcomed. He would direct the project, choose the idea he liked best, work diligently on it and call it a day.

But he was standing right in front of your apartment door, with his cheeks flushed and a timid grimace that resembled more awkwardness than a friendly smile.

“Huh?” he mumbled, barely audible for you.

“It’s 8:20,” you stepped away from the door and encouraged the brown-haired to come in. “I was waiting for you”.

Were you? Hyunjin lost track of the time that evening. He knew he got to your apartment at around 8, but he wasn’t conscious of the whole twenty minutes he spent getting ready to knock on your door.

“Sorry,” was all he could come up with. “Hi”.

“Hi,” you said back, closing the door right behind you and guiding your shy classmate across the small living room.

He seemed nosy, you could tell; his eyes widened as he discreetly scanned the whole space. There was not much to see though —when it came to room décor, you were more of a minimalist. Still, Hyunjin was curious because it was your place, he wasn’t particularly interested in appreciating the small details but imagining how you spent your afternoons resting there.

“So,” you sat down on the couch and grabbed your laptop from the coffee table, leaving space for Hyunjin to sit next to you. He seemed hesitant at first, debating on whether he should be close to you or not for his own good, but he didn’t want to make things any more awkward than they already were. “Any ideas?”

“Ideas?”

“Mhm,” you nodded, “for the project”.

To be truthfully honest, Hyunjin had plenty of ideas for the final assignment. But as he inhaled your fragrance, he completely forgot about every single one of them.

“I-” he hesitated. Silly enough, he was at the top of his class. In the midst of things, he felt overwhelmed —what if you expected a lot from him? “I guess I haven’t thought much about it”.

“Me neither,” you sighed, throwing your head back and against a cushion. “We have a long night ahead”.

“Wha- do you think we can get it done by tonight?” Hyunjin asked you. Of course, if the both of you worked hard and without any distractions, the final project could’ve been done in under 3 hours. Yet he had hope about another project meeting, luckily at his place.

“Maybe,” you closed your eyes and exhaled deeply.  

Hyunjin nodded silently and stared at you for a while, allowing himself to do so only because you had your eyes closed. Besides that time you were late and had to sit right next to him in freshman year, this was as close as Hyunjin had ever been to you.

He didn’t want to come off as a pervert, but it was hard not to stare at you. Of course, he wasn’t going to do it shamelessly —he respected you and the last thing he wanted was for you to think about him as a creep or feel uncomfortable hanging around him, but his own instincts betrayed him.

From the curvature of your lashes to your lips, then your neck, and a little down further, Hyunjin’s eyes fixed on your cleavage. Your clothes only revealed much, but that was perfect, it had him on edge.

“What?” Your voice caught him off guard and he quickly parted his gaze away from you.

“Huh?”

“I can feel you staring at me, Hyunjin,” you scoffed, still with your eyes closed.

“I am not,” he reassured you, shifting his position on the couch.

“Alright,” you sighed. “But I wouldn’t mind if you were”.

“I am not,” Hyunjin repeated and turned to face the small balcony next to him, pretending that the view outside the apartment was a thousand times more fulfilling than the one he had sitting next to him.

“Why do you not like me?” The question came out rather harshly, but far from intimidating him, it only made Hyunjin curious.

Up until that point, he thought it was pretty obvious —he was into you. He didn’t know you that much, but he didn’t need to; his lack of knowledge never stopped him from having wet dreams about you almost every single night.

“Why do you think that?”

You let out a soft scoff, turning to the side to face him. “You didn’t look happy when the professor paired us together”.

Well, that was true, but not for the reasons you thought.

“You seem outgoing with everyone, but you always look tense when I hang around you,” you continued rambling, feeling offended at the reminiscences of every time Hyunjin acted like a jerk around you. “Am I that annoying?”.

You were the farthest thing from annoying, but he couldn’t tell you that. Hyunjin wasn’t good at flirting or being sly around you, so being bluntly honest with you wasn’t an option unless he wanted to sound intense.

“Mh,” there was not much he could say, really. He knew it wasn’t true, but he wasn’t going to try to convince you otherwise. It was best for you to think of him as someone distant and cold rather than a complete dumbass who fantasized about you almost every single day.

“See?” you barked. “You are not denying it”.

“I don't think you are annoying,” Hyunjin murmured, trying hard not to stumble upon his words. “I guess we just don't hang around that much”.

“Mh, is that so?” You tried hard to make eye contact with him, but it was useless. It seemed as if he was avoiding any kind of interaction with you, and that amused you as much as it bothered you. “I know you are lying because you can't even say such a thing while looking at me”.

“I don't think you are annoying,” Hyunjin repeated, tilting his head at you ever so slightly. He wasn't too fond of eye contact, let alone with you.

“Ah, come on,” with a soft groan, you cupped Hyunjin’s cheeks with one of your hands and forced him to look into your direction. “I don't believe you”.

His eyes widened slightly, and the skin underneath your palm started to feel warm with each second that passed.

“What?”

You were staring at him with doe eyes and, for a split second, Hyunjin felt anger at your naiveness. Were you really that oblivious to your own charms? Or did you just enjoy feeling like a predator hunting its prey? Either scenario made him feel pathetic.

If you were that naive, then that would mean that he is nothing more but a pathetic pervert that gets turned on by everything you do. But if you weren't, and instead were fully aware of the power you held over him, that would mean that you were just toying with him.

“I don't find you annoying,” Hyunjin murmured. “If I did, I wouldn't be here”.

“Well you came 20 minutes late and can't even engage in small talk,” you continued bickering, “it seems to me that you don't want to be here”.

At that point, Hyunjin understood you were just doing that to tease him —you were pushing all his buttons trying to get any kind of reaction from him. As far as he was concerned, that was much like you; according to your friends and classmates, you were a complete tease.

Hyunjin loved that about you as much as he hated it.

“I-I don’t know what you want me to say,” he stuttered. Your skin was burning against his, and he prayed for you to not notice the rising tint in his cheeks.

You smiled, still cupping both of his cheeks as if that small gesture wasn’t weird to perform on an almost stranger —still, you could tell he was nervous. “I’m just messing with you, Hwang,” you finally scoffed, letting go of the grip you had on his face.

You didn’t think he hated you, but his behavior was, in fact, odd around you. Hyunjin wasn’t the extroverted type, but you could tell there was a difference between how he engaged with everyone and you.

You weren’t the extroverted type either unless you had to  —that night, as he was quiet as usual, you had decided to try and lighten up the mood by teasing him. Perhaps it wasn’t the best way to start a conversation, but you just didn’t know any better.

“So,” you sat down properly on your space, moving away from him as he sensed the loss of your warmth, “project ideas”.

It was impressive how much power you held over Hyunjin and how indifferent he was to you —even he couldn’t begin to comprehend such a thing.

It was such a small, playful action; you had decided to make a suggestive joke, inviting him to look at you. Then, you touched him. Even if it wasn’t anything sexual, his body reacted in such a way —his skin got covered in goosebumps, his heart skipped a beat and the unpleasant pressure between his legs didn’t take long to appear.

That made him feel embarrassed.  

He wasn’t as experienced as others, nor had much going on in his sexual life, but there was something shameful in getting turned on that easily by someone he barely knew. Even worse, by someone who wasn’t doing anything to drive him to that place.

And then you changed the subject, so casually and quickly that it made him feel pathetic. You were back to thinking about project ideas and he was still frozen in its place, imagining that your touch was still there, that your gaze was still fixed in his, and that the following events weren’t as they had been.

You had moved from moment to moment so easily, yet he was still pressing the couch cushion against his lap trying for his growing bulge to go unnoticed.

“Hwang?”

“Huh?” Hyunjin blinked a few times before facing you, tilting his head ever so slightly as he tried to bring back anything from what you had said the past 2 minutes. Nothing, he was too busy thinking about how it was a mistake to wear a pair of sweatpants that evening.

You stared at him with furrowed eyebrows, “were you listening?”

He swallowed thickly and interrupted eye contact, turning to face the paper sheets scattered on the coffee table. Your eyes immediately fell down to the striped cushion which he cautiously held against his body, his hand pressing it just enough for his grip to look both rough and gentle at the same time.

“What was it?” Hyunjin shyly asked.

He expected you to start talking again like you had been doing ever since he got there, but you remained silent. Instead, you tilted your head at him, staring shamelessly at the object he seemed to be clinging to.

If there was one thing you were good at and he wasn’t, was bearing silence.

“I was- I kind of got lost in the middle,” he rambled, trying hard to hide his obvious nervousness. “You were saying something about, uh-”.

It seemed as if the only way you could make Hyunjin Hwang talk was by being quiet. The longer you stared at him, the more he talked —or tried to, better said.

“Hyunjin,” you interrupted, offering him the sweetest yet most taunting smile he had ever seen from you.

He was doomed.

By the way your eyes were lingering on the striped cushion and the corners of your lips raised in a mischievous smile, he knew you knew.

And in that split second, where your eyes met his tense body and flustered gaze, everything started to make sense.

“We don't need to have everything done by tonight,” you murmured with a flirting tone he wasn't oblivious to.

Prior to that day, Hyunjin had always stood out to you. It wasn't just his looks or physical appearance, but there was something inviting about him that, even then, you were trying to figure out.

You had a slight crush on him, but that wasn't saying much —every woman you knew had a thing for Hyunjin Hwang. He really wasn't the dating type, nor showed any interest in casual dates, yet you knew a fair amount of girls who would date him in a heartbeat.

But because of how uninterested he was about the women surrounding him, and how awkward he always seemed to get around you, you never thought of him as something more than just a pretty man.

“We should-,” he continued, avoiding your eyes who were practically begging for him to look at you, “discuss the id-”.

“Hyunjin,” you repeated, shifting your position on the couch so your body could face him. “Stop”.

His cheeks were flushed, his bottom lip was caught between his teeth and his gaze was slowly losing its spark. His eyes were no longer bright but dark —still, the characteristic softness of them never faded away.

“Are you okay?”

The question was innocent, but Hyunjin knew it hid something mischievous. Even so, he was hoping to be able to fool you.

“I think I just- need to go to the bathroom,” he murmured shyly, spreading his legs inconspicuously as he tried to fix his issue.

You glared at the striped cushion and then at him, trying to make him understand that you just couldn't be tricked.

“Is that so?” There was a teasing tone in your voice Hyunjin could pick up on well, but he chose to ignore it —instead, he was trying hard to believe his own lie.

But it was almost impossible; from the way your gaze was practically devouring him to the way your arm grazed against his ever so slightly, he just couldn't focus on anything else.

“Y-yes”.

“Right there,” you pointed at one of the doors and smiled when Hyunjin realized what he had put himself through.

In order to get to the bathroom, he would have to stand up from the couch. And by standing up, he would have to leave the striped cushion behind —otherwise it would've looked weird if he decided to walk along your living room while holding a cushion against his crotch.

“What is it?”

Hyunjin felt cornered. And humiliated.

“Think I'll just stay here,” he struggled, looking down at the object on his lap and avoiding your touch.

He was sure that if you were to cup his cheeks one more time or grab his arm in a playful manner, he would come right then in his pants. That's how much power you had over him.

“You are flushed,” just as if you had been reading his thoughts for the past fifteen minutes, you leaned forward to touch his forehead with your palm. “And you are burning, too”.

At that point, Hyunjin felt terrible. His cock twitched inside his pants as he felt your delicate touch on him again, and he was sure that his sweatpants had now a dark, wet patch on them.

All because of you.

“You were just fine when you got here though,” you were toying with him, and he could tell. “I wonder what happened”.

Hyunjin swallowed tickly once he felt your hand on his cheek and jaw, teasing the side of his neck only to return back to its original place at his forehead.

For a split second, he thought about going for it. But what exactly was he going for? His cock was hard in his pants and the whole moment just made him look pathetic. On top of that, he didn't trust you enough. Would you laugh at him and call him a pervert? Or would you like the idea that you can get him hard that easily?

“Come on,” you murmured, grabbing the cushion as soon as he let his guard down. He was too lost into his own thoughts that he only realized you had taken it away when it was already too late.

His hands flew to his crotch, but it was all useless.

The raise of one of your eyebrows let Hyunjin know he had lost a game he didn't even know he was playing in the first place. It seemed as if, from the moment he walked through your apartment door, your only mission was for him to drop that distant facade he thoroughly tried to build around you.

And oh, how you succeeded.

He stared at you for what felt like ages, his body leaning forward as he tried to hide his bulge. The worst part was that, even after being caught, his cock didn't soften, it was all quite the opposite.

“Hm,” you finally hummed, interrupting the awkward silence between the both of you. “I thought you were feeling ill”.

Truth was, he did feel ill. His head was spinning around, he felt dizzy, his heart was racing at a thousand miles per hour and his hands were sweating like never before. At some point, he felt as if he was going to faint.

But even then, when he knew you had caught him red-handed in the middle of possibly one of the most humiliating situations a man can ever be in, you just couldn't stop staring at him.

Your eyes were fixed on the silhouette of his bulge, his sweatpants only leaving much to the imagination. His hand reached out for the striped cushion yet again, establishing a physical barrier between you and what you were dying to see.

“I guess you were right,” you murmured after an awkward silence, still with your gaze placed on that specific spot. “You don't find me annoying”.

It was a subtle, amusing joke to lighten up the mood, but Hyunjin couldn't relax. All he could think of was your eyes analyzing every part of him, from his rosy cheeks to the stained gray sweatpants.

“I should probably- just, you know, I can get the project done on my own. I will just-,” he was rambling, again. It was really a pathetic move, but what else was he supposed to do? He had never felt as embarrassed.

“Do you like me?”

Hyunjin stared at you with both eyes open like plates. There was no point in asking that question, especially not after you caught him with a boner in the middle of just a college project.

“I mean, sexually,” you added.

He thought, wasn't it obvious? His cock always got rock hard whenever you were around. Whenever he jerked himself off, all he could think about was you. Even when he didn't want to, even when he tried to think about anyone but you, you were the only one he could think of as he came.

“I- you know, I'm just-”.

“It's a yes or no question, Hyunjinnie,” you taunted him.

God, how he hated that nickname. It made him feel pathetic, which was not too far from reality.

“No”.

A blatant lie. No matter how hard Hyunjin tried to pretend he didn't feel attracted towards you, his past actions could rat him out anytime. The amount of times he had jerked off to your instagram pictures, the countless occasions he got hard just from seeing you and the embarrassing moments in which your name had slipped from his lips every time he humped his pillow were enough proof that he was into you.

“No?” you asked him, incredulous.

He shook his head. “I- think we should just- focus on the assignment”.

It took Hyunjin all the courage within him to not run away from the scene, lock himself up in his apartment and drop out of college. He did want to run away from your apartment, though, but he couldn't —his whole body was frozen and he could only do as little as move his gaze over the scattered paper sheets in front of him.

“I am just trying to help you here,” you exhaled deeply, clearly upset about facing rejection from such a man.

You weren't expecting him to give in right away —you knew him fairly well, and considering how shy he was, it was pointless to hope for a little bit of initiative. Yet the thing that bothered you the most was how you could tell he wanted to, but kept on denying it and pretending he just wasn't interested.

“And I can't help you if you don't let me”.

Hyunjin fixed his eyes on the small coffee table in front of him, yet his gaze was lost. Everything felt too surreal, like a dream or something pulled out of his wildest fantasies —it was all too good to be true.

“What makes you think I need help?” he gulped while asking that question, as if the answer wasn't obvious. Still, he wanted to know if you two were at least on the same page.

“Mh,” you scoffed, changing your position to end up kneeling on the couch right next to him. “Do I really need to say it?”

Truth is, you didn't. If you did say those words, he would feel too humiliated. It was humiliating enough for him to have you knowing his filthy secret, so Hyunjin just couldn't imagine how overwhelmed he would feel if you were to say anything about the situation.

“You know, it is actually kind of funny,” you taunted. Now that he was sitting right next to you, with his cock hard and his cheeks tinted, Hyunjin’s image was everything but funny.

“I am guessing this is the reason behind you not being able to concentrate on this project,” your hand sneaking all the way to the striped cushion as you took it from his lap —this time around, he didn't stop you. “So I think it's funny”.

He couldn't wrap his head about your choice of words. Funny?

“How come?” he felt less pathetic then. Still as embarrassed, but at least the relief of knowing you didn't think of him as a pervert gave him just the tiniest bit of comfort.

“You are hard and I am wet,” you chuckled, wrapping your hands underneath his left arm. That, combined with the words coming out of your mouth, made Hyunjin’s cock twitch inside his sweatpants. “Had I not seen that, we would have spent hours working on this while being aroused”.

Now, that was too good to be true.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean,” your hands cupped his face with delicacy, forcing him towards you. “Given the circumstances, we can help each other out, right?”

There was something Hyunjin needed to know first, before agreeing to do whatever it was that you were suggesting. Perhaps it was his ego, or mere curiosity, but he couldn't hold the question back.

“Why were you wet?”

The short, obvious answer was because you were aroused. But you both knew he didn't want to hear that —he was more interested in knowing what caused it.

“Why do you think so?” you scoffed softly, dragging your hand along his arm until it reached his wrist. “You are here, and we are both alone so it was impossible for me not to think about stuff”.

“What kind of stuff?”

For better or for worse, Hyunjin lost his inhibitions slowly. Had you reacted differently than you did, he was sure things wouldn't have been the way they were.

“Too many questions,” you shook your head softly, guiding his wrist between your parted legs. “Why don't you tell me what made you hard?”

He repressed a moan as soon as his digits grazed against your core —even with your underwear and shorts on, he could feel how warm you were.

“You,” he simply responded, fixing his eyes on the way your hand wrapped around his wrist.

“Do I make you hard?”

Hyunjin was just applying a small amount of pressure on you, yet you felt the need to swallow thickly. Your gaze was lost in the veins of his arms and the way his hand got lost between your legs.

“Yes,” Hyunjin sighed, lifting his eyes slightly up until they met your parted lips. 

The fabric of his sweatpants outlined the shape of his bulge fine, and it was impossible not to clench at the image. There was a wet, small patch on them, and you were fighting the urges to release his cock and lick the tip of it to taste him.

“Does it happen often?” you softly cooed, tightening the grip on his wrist as his fingers started to touch you over your clothes.  

Always, Hyunjin thought, when you’re around and when you’re not. 

“I’m just curious,” you continued after a few seconds of silence, “it would be a huge compliment if it does”. 

“Would it?” he swallowed thickly, gaze fluttering between your eyes and lips. “Why?”

“You know,” you replied, followed by a sigh, “you ask a lot of questions for someone who hasn’t given a proper response to any of mine”. 

Hyunjin couldn’t argue with you on that. 

“So,” still with his hand between your parted legs, you switched your position on the couch to be closer to him. “I asked you, does it happen often?”

“Yes,” he didn’t think it through this time and gave you the shortest, most honest answer within him. If that was what you needed to answer all of his questions, then he was going to play along. “Much more than I want to admit”.

“Mh,” you sarcastically pouted, resting your hand on top of his thigh. The sudden contact made him flinch in the slightest, but you found it adorable. “Don’t be shy with me, we’re not that different”. 

If he hadn’t been biting his lower lip, he was sure a whimper would’ve escaped his lips as you squeezed his thigh, softly caressing it while you made your way to his crotch. 

Luckily for him, he was showing much more self-control than the one he thought he had.

“We’re not?”

“Well, you too have turned me on more times than I can count now,” you murmured with boldness, “Is that weird? We don’t even talk much”. 

It isn’t, Hyunjin thought to himself as a series of perverted memories flooded his mind.

Not that he would willingly share them with you. At least not right now.

“But you’re just too pretty,” a sighed escaped your lips while your hand finally wrapped around his bulge, stroking it ever so slightly on top of his clothes, “I can’t help myself”.

Hyunjin kicked his head back, resting it against the back of the sofa. His hand was still between your legs, and your hand was gripping the silhouette of his dick over his sweatpants.

It felt like something pulled out of his wildest fantasies, but he was overthinking it a lot. You were there, admittedly wet, and he was with you, painfully hard —it was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, if you will, and he was about to waste it triumphantly.

“‘m sorry,” he squeezed his eyes shut, grimacing like you were hurting him albeit the soft grip you had on him, “I can’t”. 

You missed the warmth of his digits against you almost instantly, only to be replaced by his hand wrapping around your wrist. He fully intended to push your touch away —the faster he got your hands off of him, the faster he would forget how they felt. 

But his body betrayed him, and he could only do much as squeeze your wrist while you rubbed him off.

“Want me to stop?” You asked him, not knowing if you should continue, or just let the poor man go.

His body was stiff underneath your touch, but you could feel his cock twitching against your palm. It felt deliciously good, you could only fantasize about how much better it would feel inside of you.

“I don’t- I don’t know,” he simply responded, still with his eyes shut and his head kicked back. Hyunjin wanted to engrave the feeling of your hand wrapped around him, just as much as he wished to remember the sound of your breathing and the smell of your fragrance. “Fuck, I don’t know”.

Your eyes gleamed with the pride of coming up with a plan.

“Can I help you make up your mind?”

He blinked a couple of times, his hazy gaze barely focusing on you but your pair of hands that were dangerously close to the waist of his pants. 

“You can say no, of course,” you squeezed his thigh softly, and that drew his attention back to your face, the corners of your lips rising into a flirty smile, “but I wouldn't do that if I were you”.

All he offers you in return is a sweet, desperate nod. A short one, at that —he basically tilted his head at his crotch as a way of saying go ahead, but that was all you needed to move on.

You went from sitting right by him, to kneel in the space he had created between his legs.

His eyes were following every move of yours, and refused to abandon your image at any moment —painfully enough, Hyunjin looked so fucking good from this angle of view.

The tip of your digits grazed against the elastic of his sweatpants, lowering them along with his underwear just as little as your plan required. And as soon as your hand wrapped around his erection, Hyunjin swore he was going to die. Or come. Which to Hyunjin’s concern, was exactly the same. 

“W-wait, just, shit,” he didn’t wrap his hand around your wrist this time, but the conflict in his voice made you stop right on your tracks even before you got to do anything. “Wait, I’m not- I’m not that experienced, you know?”

“So?” You queried without bothering to hide the fact that the sudden confession perked you up a little.

“I just don’t want to embarrass myself,” Hyunjin exhaled, “which I probably already did, and I'm doing”. 

So it really wasn't that he didn't like you enough, or that he didn't want this just as much as you did.

“What’s the worst thing that can happen, anyway?” your hands were still gripping the base of his cock, teasing it against your lips as you spoke. 

“That I might come too fast,” he stuttered, eyebrows furrowed with concern. “You're not even doing anything and I can feel my cock throbbing like crazy”.

The filthy choice of words made your heart skip a beat —that, paired with the raspiness and deepness of his tone, only had you wishing he wouldn't shut up at all.

“So?” You repeated again, grinning with mischief. “I don’t mind if you come quick, as long as you can get hard for me again”.

Hyunjin let out a mixture between a moan and a grunt at your words, feeling visibly affected by them.

“If you keep saying stuff like that, I will come,” he inhaled sharply and swallowed thickly at the sight of your smile. 

“Just tell me where”. 

The small confidence Hyunjin built for himself after voicing out his concerns slowly faded away as soon as your tongue grazed against the tip of his cock —for a moment, he really thought he could hold up pretty well. But the sight of you as you made eye contact with him, while your tongue dragged along the side of his dick, was enough proof that he just couldn't stand a chance against his libido.

“Fuck,” he sighed, catching his lower lip between his teeth ever so slightly, “’m sorry”. 

At that, you cocked an eyebrow. “Sorry about what?” 

The kitten licks you were giving the tip of his cock didn't make things any easier for Hyunjin —the idea of putting together a whole sentence seemed impossible, and he knew if he were to talk in the middle of it he would just look pathetic.

“I don't mean to be this loud,” his hands were something between gripping the edge of the couch, and resting over his spread thighs; he was too focused on repressing the string of curses and moans that threatened to escape his lips. 

“But I want to hear you, Hyunjin,” you purred, stroking his dick against one of your cheeks.

The sight was to die for, quite literally —your lips were glistening with spit, just like your chin and now your cheek. Both of your hands were wrapped around his dick, and you just looked too cute despite the lewd setting you were in.

“I love it when you curse,” you encouraged him, leaving wet kisses along his shaft. “You sound so good, you know?”

The compliments were definitely getting to Hyunjin's head, and you could tell because little by little, he started to leave the awkwardness aside and get really immersed in the moment.

He seemed too afraid of screwing things up, for some reason. You, on the other hand, didn't think he could screw anything up at all —Hyunjin had always turned you by doing the bare minimum, and you wondered if he was well aware of that.

You knew he wasn't, otherwise he would've carried himself with a little more ego and pride than he did. 

"But you're a good boy, aren't you?" you continued, gently spitting on his cock to use it as lube. As you jerked him off, Hyunjin's hips instinctively bucked your palm. “You don’t curse, you don’t break rules, you don’t ever get loose…” 

“I’m not that- good,” Hyunjin hissed, biting down his lower lip. “I just- fuck".

He kicked his head back when he felt a delicious squeeze of your hands around his balls, interrupting whatever it was that he meant to say.

“Do you like it when I touch you like this?” You asked, based on his reaction. 

Again, you squeezed his balls ever so slightly while the tip of your tongue swirls around the head of his cock. 

“I fucking love it”.

God, he sounded so good. So good when he cursed, when he moaned and when your name fell from his lips. Sensuality looked good on him, despite him not knowing jack shit about it. 

"I swear I've never wanted to taste someone so bad in my entire life," you giggled, letting out a hiss when you felt his hard dick throbbing between your hands, "want you to come in my mouth, I’ll swallow it".

You weren't his first —despite his awkwardness and lack of girlfriend history whatsoever, Hyunjin had a couple of experiences he could trail back to. 

But none of them came close to whatever it was that he was feeling right now.

“I’m close,” he warned you, his hands alternating between grabbing your head and your cheeks, “fuck- I’m so fucking close”.

Eagerly, you continued bopping your head up and down his length, jerking off with your hands the part that just couldn't fit in your mouth. Between your strokes and the way you squeezed and caressed his balls, you had Hyunjin coming in no time.

“Shit-” he whimpered, forcing your head down onto his cock until your nose hit his pubic bone. 

You weren't expecting him to make you deepthroat his cock, but you tried to take it like a champ nonetheless. All for him and his pleasure.

And honestly, he didn't mean to do that exactly. It was an instinct, something done in the heat of the moment, but he just couldn't deny the fact that he enjoyed maybe a bit too much the sound and feeling of you gagging around his dick.

You had never seen someone looking this hot while coming —his cheeks were flushed, his eyebrows furrowed, his teeth were chewing at his bottom lip and his whole body was shaking and grinding ever so slightly against your mouth, hips raised against the couch while he chased his high.

It was a long high —he came so much down your throat, it eventually spilled out from the corners of your lips onto the length and base of his cock. 

Messy, but neither of you could begin to care.

“God,” Hyunjin exhaled, his whole body relaxing onto the couch after all the tension he had been carrying ever since got to your apartment. 

He let go of your face and you continued jerking him off with his own cum for a couple of seconds as your movements died down. 

“Did you- did you swallow it?”

Rather than giving him a response, you just stuck out your tongue —empty, clean, with just a small amount of him still in you. He tasted just like you imagined, and that did nothing more than to turn you on. 

“I told you,” you smiled, “I wanted to taste you”.

Hyunjin looked at you for a couple of seconds, blinking perplexed. His heart was still going at a thousand miles per hour, his head was spinning around your apartment and his cock was still as rock hard, despite having come just minutes ago.

And, impulsively, he leaned down to kiss you.

You were still on your knees between his legs, but he cupped your cheeks and practically forced you onto his lips. It was sloppy, and fast, but at the same time it was far from unpleasant. The feeling of his tongue against yours, tasting himself off of you, was enough to elicit a moan from the two of you. 

From one moment to another you were no longer kneeling between his legs, but laying down on the couch with your back against a soft cushion. Hyunjin was between kneeling and sitting right on top of you, with his hands on either side of your body.

“I want to taste you too,” he panted in between kisses, leaving a wet trail of them from your lips to your jaw, “want to make you feel real good, just like you did to me”. 

You were dying to fuck him, but you weren't going to reject it. More than one night you snuck your hand between your panties wishing it was Hyunjin's face and tongue, so you trembled in excitement at knowing that one of your fantasies was about to become true.

Or a couple of them.

“Please,” yours and Hyunjin’s hands lost no time in struggling you out of your bottoms, leaving them out of your rear of view. 

Embarrassingly for you, but luckily to Hyunjin, the fabric and color of your underwear did absolutely nothing to hide your wetness —stripping you out of it was a delight to him, who could catch a glimpse of your arousal sticking to your panties.

Carefully, he positioned himself somewhat flat against the couch with his face between your legs. Your back was slightly straight against the couch's arm rest, and your knees softly bent with your feet against the faux leather of it, so he hooked one of his hands under your thigh while the other caressed the side of your body.

“You’re so pretty,” Hyunjin whispered under his breath leaving a couple of shy kisses along your inner thighs. The slight contact of his breathing against your hot cunt made your back arched. “Pretty face, pretty pussy”. 

“Do you think I’m pretty?”

His half-lidded eyes looked up to you, “I've always thought you were the prettiest”.

He started off really slow, getting to know your body. You were desperate for more, for something messy and rough, but you allowed him to take his time. Even more so because it seemed though as if he was gaining confidence as he explored you, and you loved to see it.

“So good,” he groaned against your slit, “could eat you out for hours”. 

You wouldn't mind. He just looked too good buried in the heat between your legs, and his wet tongue felt heavenly against your clit and folds. 

After some time, his fingers came into the mix as well. Two digits stretching your cunt open, cautiously, while he kept on licking and sucking your clit.

“Right there Hyunjin,” you arched your back, gasping when his digits brushed against that spot. “Fuck, you just- shit, right there feels so fucking good”.

Seeing you like that, gasping and writhing underneath him, contributed a little to his ego. 

“Is it good?”

“Fucking perfect,” you cursed, rolling your hips against him, “can’t wait to feel your cock”.

Hyunjin knew that things were eventually leading up to sex, but it didn't feel real until you named it. Until you told him you wanted to feel him inside you, until you implied that it was only a matter of minutes before he got to enact his fantasies with you.

His hips grinded against the couch, too, as he ate you out. 

Needy to feel your warmth, desperate to give you all of his cum again.

“I want you to come first like this,” Hyunjin murmured, with his fingers buried in your pussy and his nose brushing ever so slightly against your swollen clit, “with my mouth and fingers. Then, I will make you come with my cock”.

You moaned at his words.

“It’s a promise?” 

“It’s a promise”. 

You kicked your head back against the couch’s arm rest, and arched your back when you felt the tension threatening to unravel down your lower abdomen.

His tongue was moving deliciously where you needed it, and his fingers never lost its pace and rhythm inside you.

“Hyunjin,” you chanted, latching your fingers onto his dark hair, “don’t stop”. 

Not that he was planning to.

“Are you going to come?” 

“Yes,” you nod frantically, moving your hips as much as his grip allowed you to. “So close Hyunjin, I’m so close”. 

Heavenly. 

His name falling from your lips felt right, just like it did your mouth around his cock and his tongue flat against your clit. You felt right, much more better than whatever he had been imagining the past years while masturbating on his own.

“Like that,” Hyunjin hissed, watching in awe the way your pussy and ass clenched at your orgasm. But as much as he wanted to enjoy the view, he also wanted to feel you getting wetter and wetter as you came, so he quickly returned to latch his mouth on your pussy and his eyes on you. 

“Shit!” your hips were bucking against his face frantically, almost aggressively. But he didn't stop, and elongated your high as much as he possibly could, “Can’t stop- fuck, can’t stop coming”. 

It felt like a never ending orgasm, one prompted by Hyunjin's lustful gaze —the more eye contact you made, the more aroused you felt.

“More, more Hyunjin,” you sounded desperate, and that made his dickthrob against the couch. He wanted to make you come again, and again, and until you no could no longer take it.

But he would be lying if he said he wasn't impatient for fucking you. 

“I’ll give you more,” he murmured, withdrawing from your body when you finally came down from your high. “But just- want to give it to you with my cock”. 

Whenever you thought about sex with Hyunjin, you always pictured yourself being on top. Maybe it was because of his shyness, or because you felt like you needed to take the initiative, but you almost always came at the thought of you bouncing up and down his dick.

Much to your surprise, he didn't lose time before positioning his body between your spread legs, not before removing his shirt and doing the same with yours as well.

He was going to fuck you in missionary, you figured. And you almost came at the realization of it.

Most men these days all they want is to get their dicks wet with minimal to no effort —Hyunjin was trying hard to please you, and that was alone much more satisfactory than any other experienced you had so far.

“I want to see your face when I'm fucking you," it was almost like he read your thoughts. Not that you had any complains, but quick fucks never cared for the intimacy sex entailed.

Hyunjin was different.

“Definitely not my best look,” you swallowed, thinking about your ruined make up and post-orgasm fucked out face. 

“I could come just by looking at you,” he confessed, eyes falling to your spread legs. “I swear”. 

You wrapped your arms around his neck, and pumped his dick a few times before realizing that he was missing something.

“You uh-” he felt embarrassed, but he honestly didn’t think he would get to fuck you, out of all the people. He came to your apartment to work on a school project, not to get laid. “I don’t have a condom”. 

“Want to do it raw?”

He gulped.

Of course he wanted to. Using a condom was never part of his fantasies —shit, almost all his fantasies ended up with him filling you up, despite how risky that was. 

“I honestly want to, but I’d understand if you-”.

“Are you-”

“I’m on the pill,” you reassured him, “and I’m clean. I want you to fuck me raw if that’s what you want too”. 

“I do,” Hyunjin sighed, licking his lips at the thought of getting to really feel you. “Fuck, I do”. 

And despite the logical, rational part of him that insisted it probably wasn't the brightest idea ever, Hyunjin guided the tip of his cock against your clit. The sudden stimulation made your body jolt, but he didn't stay there for too long. 

His cock slid easily right inside, and the way your walls clenched around him as they got used to his size almost makes Hyunjin come.

“Finally,” you exhaled, closing your eyes while he bottomed out slowly.

Hyunjin groaned quietly, softly pressing your hips against his. 

“You’re so tight,” he gritted his teeth, “squeezing me just right”.

He hovered you, leaning down to kiss you yet again. He wasn't moving, just fully enjoying the way you felt wrapped around him.

He didn't know if he was going to have another chance to experience this, so he intended to memorize everything —from the way your tongue tasted, to the way your pussy clenched on him.

Only this time, the kiss wasn't as sloppy; it was intense, deep and it left you breathless. He kissed you ardently, brushing his tongue against yours, biting down your lower lip and pulling it ever so slightly.

“I’m going to-” he sighed in between kisses, “are you- alright?”

“Yes,” you wrapped your arms around his neck, and your legs around his hips, “fuck me already, Hyunjin”.

Slowly but surely, he started acquiring a pace of his own. And fuck, it felt delicious.

His pubic bone slammed against your clit, providing some stimulation; his cock reached the deepest spots inside you, and his mouth worked wonders on your neck and chest. 

It was unfair how perfect he was —so good at everything.

“Harder,” your hands reached out to cup his face, pressing your forehead against his. “Fuck me harder, please”.

He understood what you wanted.

Hyunjin didn't necessarily fucked you faster after you plea, no. He smacked his hips against yours roughly, going impossibly deeper into you. His pace was slow, but each thrust made you moan and gasp every time.

“There you go,” he murmured in a quiet, drowned groan.

You hid your face on the crook of his neck, sucking on his flesh meaning to leave red and purple blossoms all over it. For some reason, the idea of seeing him the next day at college campus and peeking to see the marks you left on him kind of excited you.

It was also going to remind you that this was real, and that it happened.

“Right there, Hyunjin,” you enjoyed the feeling of him ruthlessly pounding into you. He was sweet, gentle, and caring, but his movements weren't. He appeared to be someone innocent, but he wasn’t —at least not when he was fucking you good like he this.

“Feeling good?”

“Perfect,” you replied, “you’re so- hard inside me, you feel perfect”. 

The harshness of his thrusts suddenly died down as he regained his pace; they become hotter, more sensual. 

His eyes went from looking at you, to closing shut at times. He licked his lower lip constantly, alternating between chewing on it softly, too. 

When Hyunjin wasn't too focused on his overwhelming pleasure, he was focused on your body.

How it reacted, how sensitive it was, what things you liked. He kissed your chest and sucked on your hardened nipples, and he soon understood you loved it —at least judged by the way you clenched around his dick. 

He also realized he liked the feeling of your fingers latched onto his hair —he enjoyed when you pulled it a bit too roughly, and he didn't mind the pain of it.

“Can you come with me?” Hyunjin asked in between grunts. “I’m close- but I want you to come with me, come at the same time”. 

“I’m close too,” you sneaked a hand between your bodies, rubbing your clit lazily. “Want to come with you, and feel you coming inside me”. 

It suddenly became much more intimate than you initially intended to —his eyes were glued to yours, saying way more than his words could ever do. You could see the lust, affection, and even perversion in his gaze; the longing of always staring from afar, but now getting to have you underneath him with your legs spread and your pussy around him.

It didn't take you any long to reach that sweet release you both had been chasing ever since he stepped a foot into your apartment.

“I’m coming,” you gasped, digging your nails onto the flesh of his shoulders and back, “come”. 

Hyunjin pressed his forehead against yours, and when he felt your walls clenching, he immediately released too. 

He didn’t want to think about his cum filling you up, nor the image of his arousal oozing out of your pretty pusy. He didn’t want to think too much about what you just let him do, and he didn’t want to think about the risk of it although it kind of turned him on.

A loud moan escaped his lips when he thrusted his cock harder into you, reaching yet another deep spot inside your walls. With each slam of his hips, he shot his orgasm painting you white from the inside. 

A warm, eerie feeling you hadn't experience before, because you just refused to fuck anyone raw.

But Hyunjin isn't just anyone.

“God,” he gulped loudly, panting and out of breath. 

You could feel his cum dripping out of you, despite his dick still filling you up, and you just couldn't believe how much he came twice in a row.

“Was it good?” your voice sounded exactly the same, hoarse and strained. You could barely breathe, but you didn’t care  —he collapsed on top of you carefully, without wanting to hurt you, and you both tried to stabilize your breathing together.

“Better than my imagination, that’s for sure”. 

You kissed his cheek and enjoyed the intimacy, wondering if the shy, awkward Hyunjin was going to make an appearance any time soon. In very little time you got to see a whole new side of him, just as shy but a lot less shallow than what you “knew” about him prior to that day, and you were still not ready to find out how things were going to be after this.

“I should probably- get something to clean you up,” you only realized how messy a creampie is when Hyunjin pulled out, making his cum to drip out of you and onto the couch. 

But you came up with a better plan.

“What if we take a shower?”

He looked at you, but soon diverted his gaze to the pile of unfinished work you had. 

“Come on, don’t get shy on me,” you pouted, sitting carefully on the couch right next to him. “I’m not getting shy it’s just-”, he makes a long pause and smiles to himself. A very faint, almost imperceptible grimace, but you caught on it, “I don’t think I can be naked around you without ending up fucking you again”. 

“Sounds like a win to me”.

“I expected much more from the two of you,” Mr. Jung handed you the final essay you allegedly worked so hard on. Judged by the stern tone of his voice, and the deep exhalation your project partner let out, you can only assume it was a bad grade. “Not the greatest work you’ve had delivered”. 

Your gaze fell down in embarrassment, and Hyunjin cleared his throat, “we’re sorry. With the end of the semester we kind of- got distracted”. 

And if by distracted you mean fucking like animals at every chance you were alone, whether in a private or a public setting, then yes.You got so fucking distracted.

#stray kids smut #skz smut #kpop smut #hyunjin smut #hwang hyunjin smut

[luminousbeings-crudematter]

You let Ghost break you in and Johnny gets to watch

PAIRING: Simon “Ghost” Riley x Johnny "Soap" MacTavish x F!Reader 

WARNINGS: || 18+ only MDNI || butt sex ||

A/N: this chapter is just pure Nastiness, i dont know what else to say about it lmaooo || without @ohbo-ohno and her massive galaxy brain, this chapter would not be half as horny as it is (love you bo)

Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 || Part 4

____

The rules of your engagement had been simple:    Don’t speak.  Don’t lose concentration.  Finish reading the report.  Collect your reward.

So you’d complied, like their good fucking girl.  You’d gotten on all fours, taken Soap in your mouth while Ghost had lodged his cock deep inside your cunt.  They’d both fucked you with slow, lazy, indulgent strokes of their hips that felt almost like an after thought—but you couldn’t blame them.  After all, while you couldn’t quite see you could hear the wet sounds of their tongues as they made out above you.  You were enjoying the leisurely pace they’d set, but you’d kept your eyes firmly on the report Ghost had gotten you to read.

And you’d been doing so well.

Shame the same couldn’t be said for Soap.  

Johnny had gasped suddenly, jerked away from Ghost with a start, grabbed your hair and started to thrust into your mouth with purpose, the rumble in his throat an unmistakable sign of how close he was to that blessed precipice.        

But of course, that meant he’d broken the rules Ghost had set for him.  His attention was supposed to be on Ghost.  

Ghost had pulled himself out of you and you’d almost whined in protest—but everyone was going to be punished, it seemed, and Ghost had used uncharacteristic gentleness to push Soap away from you too.  

Johnny didn’t take it well, having been so close to finishing in your mouth, so eager for that sweet release after hours of foreplay that when he’d left the hot cave of your mouth, he’d been almost ravenous.  You’d glanced down at his cock, the tip an angry red, jutting upwards, hard and slick and beautiful with the evidence of your attention on him.  You’d even gone so far as wanting to protest on Johnny’s behalf, but when Ghost had obliged him to tuck himself back into his trousers with just a hard, unblinking stare, you’d decided to shut your mouth and keep it shut.

____

You almost forget about the whole thing, but of course, you should have known better, and obviously, it’s all far from over.  

You only realise the part you have to play in Johnny’s punishment a few days later when you find yourself in his room, in his bed with Ghost, but Johnny isn’t allowed on.

It takes you a second or two to understand what’s happening—you’re clearly the last one that does because Johnny just makes his way to the small chair in his room, whilst you’re tugging Ghost by his hand onto the bed.  “Erm, where are you off to?” you call out to Johnny, and the sound of your own voice makes you giggle.

(You’ve long since reached the conclusion that every sound that leaves you is hilarious once you’ve had a few drinks).      

Johnny’s eyes nervously dart to Ghost and then back to you.  He opens his mouth to speak, but looks at Ghost, then closes his mouth again.  You assume Ghost’s expression gives him the green light to tell you—what the fuck?—and he looks back at you with a slightly strained smile.  “Why don’t y’two go ahead and start?  I’ll join ye in a second, bonnie.” 

“...in a second?”  You’re confused, you’re so confused, and you drop Ghost’s fingers that you’d been absentmindedly playing with and push away from him, looking between him and Johnny.  “Boys…what—what’s going on?”

Simon pulls you back into him, and the feeling of his warmth behind you instinctually relaxes you.  “It’s all good, love, don’t worry about Soap.  He’s okay with this, isn’t he?  Aren’t ya, Sgt?”

“Yes, sir,” Johnny grumbles, but his eyes sparkle with interest as he watches Ghost nudge your top away with his nose, kissing his way up from your shoulder to your jaw.  He’s sloppy about it too, leaving a wet trail on your skin. 

Johnny slowly lowers himself onto the chair, but his posture is far from relaxed—he’s leaning forward towards you, elbows on his knees and hands clasped together as though in prayer—and his eager eyes follow the movement of Ghost’s lips on your skin.  “Ye can still enjoy yourself, bonnie,” he murmurs.  “Simon’ll take care of ye.”

“Okay, Johnny,” you breathe, unable to keep your eyes open and blissed out as Ghost’s seemingly gentle kisses descend gradually into bites and licks and nips at the sensitive skin behind your ear.  He uses the opportunity to lead you deeper onto the bed, and you end up kneeling on it while he stands with his back to Johnny, obscuring your view of him entirely.  You try to refocus on Ghost, and he pulls the balaclava off entirely when you tip your face up to him for a kiss, eager to feel his lips on yours.  

It’s…been a while.  It’s been more than just a while. 

You’re not part of their dumb boys only club, and it’s been weeks since you’ve seen the two of them with nothing eating into your time together—not broken rules of engagement, not the clandestine operations that take them away from you, and not some other stupid shit that goes on around the place.  No, you’ve got them now, both of them and entirely to yourself, and you intend to take full advantage.     

And it seems that Ghost wants you to start right here, with him.  

Kissing Ghost has always made you feel like you need to be there and take it, all of it, whatever he gives you.  A scarred, rough, scraped up hand comes up to guide your chin to drop for him so that he can devour your mouth, explore it, map it, commit it to memory. His thoroughness is unyielding, his attention to every detail about you steadfast and unquestionable.  

Ghost knows that a gentle hand around your neck will make you press closer to his chest, eager for contact, eager for connection, but he knows that the slightest tightening of his fingers will draw a gasp, and then a moan.  He knows that his other hand, winding around your back and cupping the back of your neck will draw a whine out of you, make you soften your shoulders, melt into him.

Ghost is the kind of man who, if you could trace his lineage, you know you’d find a God.

Under all the performative bullshit lay someone who may not understand you yet, who you are and what you want, but he knew what you needed when you were vulnerable for them like this, and you find yourself grateful for it all the same, revelling in the knowledge that this is more than enough. 

When he pulls away from you, it takes you a second to open your eyes.  

“Remember wha’ we talked about?”

 Your eyes flicker between his, the whites standing starkly against the dark, melted caramel, and you nod yes.

“Out loud,” he instructs.

“Yes, sir, I remember,” you whisper.  

“Good.  On your stomach, then, soldier.” 

____

You wonder what he sees when he looks at you like this.  You wonder what Johnny sees.

You’re on your knees for Ghost, spread as wide as they’ll go, chest to the bed.  You’re not allowed to speak except to answer him directly, or tap out if it all gets to be too much. 

It’s been hours.  He’s had you in every single way but one.   

And Ghost is…well.  Heh.  Ghost, in his infinite altruism, is demonstrating to Soap how he’s preparing your ass to take him. Ghost is unbelievably gentle with you, and you’ve come on his fingers and tongue twice already—it’s made you loose and languid and rendered you absolutely cock-dumb.  You’ve been prepping for this for weeks without them (you didn’t even want to ask where on earth they’d found a plug for you on base) and it was paying you back in spades.  You’d never been more relaxed, more comfortable, and Ghost?  Well, Ghost was having a good time.

As if in direct response to your thoughts, Ghost spreads your cheeks and you hold your breath as you feel him blow a warm stream of air, right fuckin’ there, and it makes you shudder, an earthquake down your spine.

“Look at her, Johnny,” he whispers.  “Isn’t she fuckin’ perfect?”

It’s rhetorical, of course, and you can’t see his expression but you wish you could when Johnny chokes out a raspy, “Perfect, Lt.”

You feel Ghost shifting behind you, adjusting further, until you feel teeth on your cheeks, just the hint of his canines digging into the supple flesh.  “Fuck,” you moan, and it makes him exhale air harshly through his nose in amusement.  When he finally drags his tongue to the centre, you hold your breath, hold yourself as still as possible, biting your bottom lip.  Hard.  

Ghost is sloppy about it.  He’s loud and messy, trying to bury his face inside of you.  You feel his nose dig into you, the barely day-old stubble scrape against your sensitive skin, you feel everything.  You think you can see colours through your closed eyes at this point, so hard do you clench your eyes shut from the stimulation.  

So far gone are you that you don’t even realise that Johnny’s here beside you, your sweet Johnny, brushing your sweaty hair away from your face and cooing at you, murmuring to you.  You open one eye to look at him, try to lift your face up to kiss him, but Ghost uses the tips of his fingers on your lower back to push you right back down, and so you end up where you began—cheek smushed against the bed, begging to be fucked, begging to be put out of your misery, begging for Johnny, for Ghost, for them to do something other than tease you.

Thankfully, Johnny seems to hear your thoughts because fingers that you know aren’t Ghost’s make their way to your cunt, sliding in like a dream, synchronising their thrusts with Ghost’s licks, driving you to a whole new level of insanity.  Pleasure blooms in the pit of your gut, travelling in all directions, holding you as its willing captive.  

“God, please Johnny, please please,” you moan, and he murmurs to you again, but you can’t even attach meaning to the sounds.  You don’t even understand what you’re begging for, you just need that elusive something, that one thing that’s going to make you feel good now now now and you don’t know how to get it, you don’t know if you can and it makes you even more desperate, feeding the cycle once more, leaving you feeling like a screen door in a storm.                   

Ghost pulls away, uses just the tip of his fingers, spreading the slick around your asshole, over and under but not quite giving you the blessed relief of slipping inside you yet.  No, you’re being tormented, and you don’t even know why. 

“Please, Ghost…you promised,” you murmur, and moan when both his palms squeeze the fullness of your ass.  And that’s all you get.  No verbal response, no confirmation that he’s heard you, nothing.  It’s like your body is a toy for his amusement, and you clench involuntarily, your heart galloping in your chest at the thought.  It’s exactly what you’d asked of him, of both of them, to be their plaything, to be a thing they could use, an object for them to keep themselves busy, and you were so fucking happy, so fucking proud that Ghost was finally taking you up on it.             

Ghost works you up to take just the tip of his finger inside you, just a little past the apex of his nail, and your responding moan is fervent, sincere.  You grip the sheets around you and find that you're clenching in anticipation, even down to your toes.  “God, that’s really good,” you breathe.  

 “Johnny!” Ghost barks, and at once, he’s on attention, ready to please.  Like a dog on the shortest leash known to man, Johnny’s ready for the next set of instructions.  You think you won’t hear them, but they’re snappy and clear.  “Hold her open for me,” Ghost instructs, and Johnny’s pulling his fingers out of you (to equal parts of dismay and excitement on your part), and spreading your cheeks wide, keeping them spread wide.   

You hear shuffling behind you, the cap of a bottle popping open, one of them kissing the other, quickly, quietly.  A moment later, you find that your spine relaxes further, warm lube dripping generously from Ghost’s fingers to your asshole, your inner thighs, on to the bed below you.

He’s going back to his previous form of torture then, pushing one finger inside you, giving you a brief moment to relax, to adjust, before teasing you with the tip of another.  He makes sure to go slow, alternating between gentle thrusts and stopping all movement entirely, making sure one finger is in you to his knuckle before the tip of another enters you.  It’s slow and torturous and delicious, the pressure and foreign sensation of it all adding to the sensitivity, Johnny’s sweet murmurs helping you along.  

You feel like an exposed nerve, frayed and wrought by overstimulation by the time he’s got three fingers in you—all you are is pure, unbridled sensation, each thrust, each movement of his fingers inside you sizzling into your mind, there to stay.   He’s been patient with your body, respectful and careful, until his fingers move deeper into you, quicker, easier.

When he pulls out, you mewl, but he hushes you with a quick kiss pressed to your back.  “Sitrep,” he whispers against your skin and it makes you shudder, goosebumps breaking across your skin at the feeling of his lips.

“S-solid, I’m solid, sir,” you say, infusing as much confidence in your voice.  “I can take you.”

“Hear that, sir?  She can take you,” Johnny repeats, but his voice is fond and you feel your cheeks warm at the undisguised affection in his voice.  

“Mm,” Ghost says.  “Back to it, Johnny.  Off the bed.  Now.”

“B-but Simon—”

“Shh,” you whisper, interrupting him.  “Do as he says, Johnny.”

 “Steamin’ Jesus,” he growls, but you feel the bed decompress as he gets off it anyway.  But of course, Johnny’s a rebel at heart, and lives to challenge authority.  So you can’t say you’re entirely surprised (though you are thoroughly amused) when he drags his chair to the other side of the room, so that now, he sits right in your line of sight.  No Ghost blocking his view, and so Johnny gets to watch the show unobstructed.  Ghost  gets off the bed, and you wonder why, before you see that he’s going up to Johnny.

“Ye told me to get off the bed.  Ye never said I couldnae watch,” Johnny says defiantly, a hint of smugness in his tone from having seemingly outsmarted Ghost.

But Ghost only stands in front of him, pulled up to his full height, arms crossed over his chest and nods.  “I did.  Now I’m telling you to shut up.”

“Wha-mmpf!”  

Your eyes go wide with horror (and a bit of awe) when you see what Ghost has stuffed into Johnny’s mouth to get him to shut up.  You only recognise your panties by the small amount of pale purple lace that isn’t stuffed entirely inside his mouth.

When Ghost turns his back to Johnny, not giving him the opportunity to retort (not that he could!), his eyes soften and he looks at you with the hint of a smile around the brackets of his mouth.  You realise what he’s saying to you without him having to spell it out for you, and when you narrow your eyes at him and give him a small smile back, you think you’ve broken new ground with the Lieutenant. 

He settles in place behind you and lays a warm, reassuring palm on your back.  “Breathe for me.”

And you do.  You take a few deep breaths, and the tip of his cock is angled exactly where he needs to be.   He bends in half over you, covering the entirety of your back with his body, and you sink under his weight.  “Breathe out, Sgt,” he reminds you, and when you do, he pushes the tip of his cock inside you.

The stretch, the burn—it’s exhilarating.  Your heart beats like you’re running a marathon, but you continue to breathe deeply, allowing your body a chance to relax, to accept the foreign feeling, allow the instinctual feeling of ridding yourself of the invasion to be replaced by the creeping waves of pleasure.

It’s full, you feel so full, you can feel him in your throat, and, “F-fuck.  Fuck you’re so…so fuckin’ tight, love.”

Ghost continues to talk to you encouragingly, continues to ease in inch by blessed inch, until you tap the bed beside you with your open palm once, and he freezes.  “Okay.  Okay, I’ll stop.  This is good.  This is good?”

“Yes, God, Ghost, want you to move, please please,” you mewl, and he obeys immediately.  His hips don’t exactly meet yours, but they come close, they come so fucking close, that you shudder at the depth he must reach inside you.  He moves in shallow thrusts, careful with you, careful not to break you, listening out for every sign your body gives.   

When he pulls out of you and rearranges you, you go with him like a ragdoll.  He whispers in your ear as he does it, and you eyes snap open.  

Yes.  Yes, you would like to do that, actually.              

You squeeze his wrist in silent acceptance and you’re left wondering at his strength, and the unabashed, raw display of it, when he holds you up with your back to his chest, legs thrown over the crook of each arm so your cunt is on full display, so Johnny can see exactly what he’s missing out on.  Ghost continues to move inside you, controlled thrusts that feel like heaven to you, but you pull yourself away from it just enough so you can focus on Johnny.

The poor man stays quiet, just like he’s been instructed to, but his eyes are blown wide, stark bright blue burning a hole into you, catching your vision that’s gone slightly hazy at the edges.    

And because you’re feeling particularly wicked, head pleasantly buzzing with the effects of the alcohol and of Ghost, you decide to play along with the little game.  “Why weren’t you good for him, Johnny?  See how wet I am, I need you it hurts,” you sniff, and the tears streaming down your face provide just enough visual aid for your performance to be convincing.  “My pussy hurts, Johnny,” you mumble again, your eyes downcast, and you watch as Johnny’s knuckles turn white where he has a death-grip on the armrest of his chair. 

Johnny turns desperate eyes to Ghost but Ghost interrupts whatever Johnny was planning on doing or saying.  “Choices have consequences,  Johnny” he growls and Johnny’s expression morphs into what looks like the various stages of grief— you have to work hard to stay in character.

You raise your arm, fingers outstretched to where you imagine Ghost’s mouth is, and he takes them into his mouth without hesitation.  When you’re satisfied with how wet he’s made them, you bring them down to your cunt, shuddering at the feeling of your own fingers on your sensitive skin.  Every sensation feels amplified, somehow, and rubbing at your clit feels as painful as it feels good.  

Johnny watches helplessly as you make yourself come on your own fingers, your cunt having nothing to clench on as you come, head thrown back into Ghost’s neck, who’s not faring so well himself.   Your orgasm strangles his cock inside you, and he moans as he comes inside you, voice sounding guttural and hoarse, like it’s been pulled out of the deepest part of his chest.          

When Ghost pulls out of you, Johnny’s on his feet instantly, consequences be damned.  They take care to lay you gently on the bed, and murmur to each other in voices too low for you to hear.  You phase in and out of consciousness as they clean you, dress you—they do everything for you.  You grumble through the pain medication they feed you and the water they make you drink, but then you’re too tired, too spent to stay awake and functional anymore.

You stay stuck in that weird point of lucidity for a while—where you can hear your surroundings, are aware of conversations, but lack the context to meaningfully contribute—and you hear them speak to each other in hushed whispers.  One of them runs soothing hands through your hair, while the other rubs your hands.   The last thing you hear is Ghost’s voice and a firm, “Always, Johnny” before your sleep pulls you under.           

#simon ghost riley #ghostsoap #simon riley x reader #simon riley x john mactavish #john soap mactavish x reader #ghoap x reader #ghost smut #soap smut #lumi writes

[heraxic]

I’m sorry if you already answered this (I didn’t find it mentioned) but why was Kyril/Karl mutated, imprisoned and hunted in the Greek Myth AU? This definitely feels like Miranda/Athena was punishing him. What happened?

Thanks for asking!

Here’s pre-curse Kyril (story under cut, body horror/gore warning)

Yes, it was meant as punishment (unlike Alina and Daphne), and to no one’s surprise his crime was hubris.

Kyril worked at his father’s forge, far surpassing his skills in both metalworking and stone masonry. As such he was blessed by Hephaestus himself.

He got commissioned to make a statue of Athena in honor of her craftsmanship. He rolled his eyes and set to work, complaining that it’d be more fitting to make one of Hephaestus, who picked up the slack, since Athena abandoned her craft and stopped making beautiful things for the sake of her sick game (Athena’s Gauntlet of Monsters, so far containing a living whirlpool and a sphinx, was widely known and many daydreamed of or even sought the glory of defeating the beasts). In spite of his grumbling the statue came out stunning with clean cut stone and gilded detailing.

The next day, a weaver came to Kyril’s forge saying she’d heard his complaints about her goddess, which confused her cause with a statue that beautiful a blessing would naturally be in order, yet he burned that bridge. ‘What if she could give you the power to make the most life-like statues in the world?’ Kyril laughed and said it wasn’t her domain, and besides he didn’t need it.

Refusing a blessing from a god is one thing, but to mock them and be telling the truth at the same time is unforgivable.

The weaver lifted her shawl from her head and revealed a brilliant blue plume and with it a golden helmet. Athena arose to her full dreadful height, one hand holding her winged spear, the other pointed towards the terrified sinner in front of her. ‘You will know what power is when you see it. You shall have my blessing whether you wish or not.’

In a second, Kyril fell to the floor screaming with blinding agony, feeling horrible squelching and crunching as bone and muscle grew where it shouldn’t. His nails fell out and out of the raw empty spots grew thorny black claws; his spine extended to accommodate a tufted lion tail; the skin of his back ripped to tatters to unfurl two sets of bloody grey wings; his black curls turned to angry, writhing snakes, each more venomous than the last; his teeth grew sharp and pointed, cutting rifts on his tongue so blood filled his mouth; and lastly his eyes grew heavy in their sockets as they were imbued with the last of the goddess’s curse.

Hearing the commotion, Kyril’s father rushed in and cradled the strange figure he knew was his son, turning his head towards him. He instantly froze in place, a perfect image of paternal worry, and the monster felt the arms holding it turn hard and grating like stone.

Athena took him away to her islands somewhere in the Cyclades to become the next glorious creature on her roster, the Gorgon. There he lied writhing in pain for 12 days without sleep or food (besides the right leg of Pallas, which further changed his body and gained him far more muscle and size). When the pain subsided enough to let him speak he prayed for his patron Hephaestus to help him, but alas gods can’t break each other's curses. Instead he carved out a spacious cave for him in which to seek shelter as well as several unbreakable stonemason and smithing tools to keep up his spirits.

700 yrs later Elias comes to the islands.

#ask #re8 #greek mythology #re8 karl heisenberg #re8 heisenberg #re8 mother miranda #re8 miranda #fanart #my art #sketch

[shanastoryteller]

Blessed Samhain, Shana! more Lady Mo or something else genderbendy?

a continuation of 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45 46 47

Lan Xichen hasn’t seen Wangji this upset in thirteen years and he has no idea what could be the cause. He guides him to A-Yao’s private garden, mind spinning. If Xuanyu were in some sort of immediate danger, Wangji would not leave her side. He’s sure of that and it’s all that’s keeping him from marching back to Jiang Yanli and demanding an explanation out of her himself. He hopes Sizhui hasn’t noticed the commotion, certain it will cause his nephew to worry, but he doesn’t spare too much thought on it because right now his first concern is his brother.

Worryingly, when they come to a stop Wangji just continues to stare at him blankly.

“What happened?” he asks, resisting the urge to grab him by his shoulders and shake him. “Did you and Xuanyu get into a disagreement?”

Perhaps something to do with Jin Guangshan? Lan Xichen has long abandoned the idea that she’s some sort of spy, as has A-Yao, but that doesn’t mean her father can’t want things from her, can’t be trying to make things difficult for her. Perhaps Jiang Yanli was warning her and Xuanyu and Wangji had a fight about it? They fight often enough that he can’t imagine anything that would send Wangji running.

“I’ve done something terrible,” Wangji says tonelessly. “This is my fault.”

Wangji faced down forty Lan clan elders and received forty lashings all without admitting a single moment of poor judgement or regret. Punishments he accepts easily – culpability, significantly less.

“What are you talking about?” he demands, trying to keep the alarm out of his voice. “What did you do?”

“Xuanyu,” he starts, then presses his lips together and shakes his head.

He would not harm Xuanyu. Even that spar that set half the clan to breaking the rules about gossip was not about harm. He’ll fight her, argue with her, spar with her, but Wangji worries and watches over Xuanyu constantly, vexed and surprised by her at turns, and Lan Xichen had felt aching relief when the woman his brother had been coerced to marry had turned out to be someone that Wangji couldn’t look away from.

He forces himself to sound calm. “What about Xuanyu?”

Wangji wets his lips and has to clear his throat twice before he can make himself speak. “She’s pregnant.”

Lan Xichen stares.

The relief is enough to make his knees week and his grip on Wangji’s shoulder doubles as a way to steady himself. “Wangji! You nearly gave me a heart attack! This is wonderful-”

“Wonderful?” he repeats, looking at him like he’s grown another head.

Some of that relief drains away. “Is it not? Is something wrong with the baby? Or Xuanyu? I know she was a little weak when you married, but she’s gotten so much stronger.” A terrible thought occurs to him. “Is she – she’s happy about it, isn’t she? She said that she likes kids and she’s so good with Sizhui, she must be happy.”

“I,” Wangji blinks, “I don’t – I didn’t ask–”

“Well, what did you say?” he asks in exasperation.

“I apologized.”

A-Yao isn’t here, but Lan Xichen feels the familiar urge to turn to him. “You apologized.” Wangji nods. “Xuanyu told you that she was carrying your child. And you apologized. Then left.”

He nods again, slower this time.

Lan Xichen grips the bridge of his nose.

“LAN WANGJI!”

They both turn to see Jiang Cheng headed straight for them, sword unsheathed and Zidian sparking, although that’s not the most alarming part. The last time Lan Xichen saw that look on Jiang Cheng’s face, they were on a battlefield.

This, at least, likely is Wangji’s fault.

#prompt answers #prompts are closed #asks #alexseanchai #untamed

[mourninglamby]

for the ctommy asks, how do you feel about religious ctommy headcanons or the headcanon where butterflies follow him around because they like dead things?

I adore both of these headcanons a lot bc 1. It’s literally canon and 2. The Beauty in the Rot (OBSESSED!!!)

I think Tommy’s faith (twitch prime) is so interesting as both a comfort and a detriment at times… he worships and is blessed by patron saint drista with the sacred dagger to hunt those who hunt him and I am deeply gagged by that (they don’t know what they did) (I love psychosis but also I’m right). With the addition of cdream being religious as well…fucking insaneeeeeeee asylum. Insane. He uses his faith to get what he wants and justify torment or bond tommy to him even more than he already has 🙏☝️+ the whole I’m A God thing. BRUHHHH HIS SACRILEGE WILL KNOW NO PUNISHMENT IG 😭😭😭😭 sorry this became a c!disc ramble

#tommy being blessed and also cursed #yuh… and on the third day #this got rly incomprehensible sorry but also idgaf #if u don’t get it u don’t get it babe… #c!tommy #c!discduo #my art #doodles #dsmp

[justporo]

my queen. ur sfw alphabet for astarion....it was so good. so amazingly good. grrrrrRUFF!!! GRAAAAFPBRRRR!!!!!! anyways.....would you....be able.......to make......an nsfw alphabet 👀

Oh my sweet Anon, how could I say no? And you're not alone in wanting the NSFW version so here you go, hope you enjoy! And thank you so so much <3. You know flattery will most likely get you your way with me. Surely a thing Astarion and me share... This is Fem!Tav/Astarion btw.

I used this wonderful template (although I changed C slightly), thanks again to @the-coldest-goodbye.

Smutty headcanons about Astarion and Tav (in alphabetical order)

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Astarion is very cuddly and comforting – especially if it was a little rougher. He’s always making sure you’re okay, holding you, kissing you gently, laying around naked afterwards just talking and relaxing. Especially since he’s learnt being comfortable with non-sexual intimacy he also just enjoys being close to you with skin-on-skin contact, feeling your warmth.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

“Just one, love? Don’t make me choose a favourite?” Let’s face it, he knows he has the body and face of a fallen god. He takes pleasure in looking and being beautiful (rightfully so), he likes that he has a body that’s well built and incredible to look that. But not even in that kind of hollow way but it’s just aesthetically pleasing and that’s a source of joy for him (also he loves his hair a lot). That also goes for you: he’s constantly reminded of every single little beautiful detail about you. The way your neck curves in an elegant line, the way your lips open into a smile, the small lines in your irises that are only visible when he’s like an inch away from you, the little dimple above your butt? Ugh – he could get lost in all those little aspects for they’re all infinite spaces of beauty.

C = Coming (switched that one because I liked this more)

Astarion takes an incredible amount of pleasure in keeping you on edge sometimes. The way it’s so very much in his hands to let you fall or not and the way you’re willingly giving yourself to him in that way. He’d never truly make you suffer though – he only does what makes it more exciting for the both of you.

Sometimes it might even be a little bit of teasing who might be able to push the other beyond the point of no return. (Punishable by law and the other will pay!)

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

It turns Astarion on way too much when you wear his clothing. The way your ass looks when you’re wearing only his shirt, when it’s visible just beyond the hemline. The way your hardened nipples peak through the fabric and the outline of your breasts shows through it – he can never get over that image. Certain way to get him to push you against a wall in three seconds or less.(And it will stay on during the sex, so he can smell you and what the two of you did later on.)

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Do we even need to answer this? He knows every damn trick in the book and he’s very creative and eager to show off and teach you.

But: Doing all this with someone he really loves? With someone he desires so deeply it threatens to melt him from the inside? That’s a whole new plane of existence he never even though existed.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

“Again, darling, you can’t possibly make me pick just one. Because when you’re under me I can see your face when I’m deep inside you. I can watch your eyes roll back and how your lips soundlessly form my name and your legs wrapped around my hips can slowly drive me insane. But when you’re on top of me I feel like you’re a goddess gracing me with your blessing. And when you’re on all fours and I’m above you, I can feel the tension in your whole body, how you desperately use every inch of space to get more friction and look at your pretty little back arch while I grip onto your thighs.”

Enough said, isn’t it?

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

He’s probably way too used to putting up the perfect performance in the beginning. But he slowly learns that being intimate means so much more: that it means being so deeply comfortable with each other, each other’s body and mentally, emotionally, that’s not about perfection at all. And that it can be so joyful if someone cracks a joke in the middle of the act because somehow the moan Tav let out sounded like a dying squirrel. Or because Astarion butchered his cheesy line because you’re driving way beyond mad with the way your hips roll.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Elves have little to no body hair so there’s not much to take care of. The little hair that might exist just stays and is neatly groomed just like the whole man.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Astarion opening up in these moments is one of the most beautiful things. Because he slowly learns to experience real intimacy. He’s slowly fully there with you: it’s not an act anymore. His hands linger now on your soft, warm skin, his kisses become more passionate and never ending, his eyes burn with desire but mostly with love. And he makes sure to tell you: tells you how much he loves you, praises every inch of your body. His heart is so wide open when he gets there, he’s so ready to be loved and to give love – being amplified by the fact that he’d never even dared to believe he’d be allowed to feel something like this.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

He doesn’t really – because why when he has you at his fingertips. Although if you had to be away for a little while he might find he’s craving you way more than anything else. And when he’s sitting soaking in the tub and he’s reminded of how you look getting out of the tub, streams of water glistening on your body – he finds himself pleasuring himself thinking about how it will be once you’re back with him.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Hmm yes, the thing with blood. Drinking from you while being in the middle of the act – yeah, you kinda both enjoy that quite a bit.

But also it’s such a massive turn on for him if you give yourself to him completely. The fact that you’re trusting him this much is driving him almost insane.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Oh, it could happen anywhere at any time.

Your enormous bed is your favourite place by far though. After all this safe space of coziness is just where you can completely intimate with each other in any kind of way. But Astarion for sure has to test every surface in the house with you – at least once. Okay, maybe twice for good measure.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Just you literally doing anything. Once he realises he’s in love with you, he’s fallen and can’t get up. You’re angry at him – woah, the look you throw him takes his breath away. The way you bite your lip when you’re concentrating on something – he wants to put his lips on yours immediately.

And let’s not even talk about when you try to deliberately turn him on. You wearing something naughty just for him? You very purposefully letting your hands wander and linger just a little too much for it to be innocent?

“Love, either you keep these naughty little hands to yourself or you’ll put them right there right now and finish the godsdamned job”, Astarion whispers huskily and grabs one of your hands, deliberately placing it on the growing bulge between his legs.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

If he ever felt used in that way again he’s been put through for way too long – he will NEVER do that again.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Astarion very much enjoys giving head, because the way your thighs press around his head while he can feel you shiver and the way the pitch of your moans rise – hmm, delicious.

He hasn’t been receiving quite that often so he’s not particularly fond of it, until – it’s you and he realises how wonderful you look with your lips wrapped around him.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

It really depends on the mood. There’s certainly not just the one way with Astarion. He can be so incredibly sweet and tender, touches like feathers. But another time it might be he has you up against a wall and it’s all about carnal lust – making it rough and quick. But he certainly always makes sure it’s pleasant for the both of you.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

As much as Astarion enjoys spending whole nights (or days) with you under his hands (or the other way around), he wouldn’t say no to just quickly bending you over the kitchen table to give you a sweet little reminder why it is that you can’t get enough of him – ever.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Experimenting, yes? He likes to show you new things, but he’d never put you in any danger and making sure you’re one hundred percent comfortable with what’s happening is always his top priority.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

No matter what you can’t possibly keep up with him. And he teases you about it (affectionately): “Aww love, I was just getting started. We didn’t even get to the real fun parts.” You just glared him, being too out of breath to put anything you wanted to verbally hurl at him into words.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

The only things he needs really is you and himself. Although something like tying you up against the bed sometimes? Covering your eyes? But for the most part he enjoys completely uninterrupted body contact the most – and that by far doesn’t have too mean it’s always sweet and soft. Those long and elegant fingers have much expertise with sleight of hand and they don’t call it silver tongue for nothing.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Oh, an awful lot. Astarion is the definition of a tease. But in his defence: he also takes delight in being teased back. It’s no fun if you don’t claw back. And bickering and teasing a lot is definitely your specific kind of foreplay.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Astarion’s quite verbal – especially since he’s discovering new heights of pleasure with his loved one. Groaning and moaning – especially your name or praises for you. Also he does not care if he’s loud – he’ll proudly let the whole world now how much he desires you (much to the displeasure of you and your party members, oops).

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

It’s Astarion absolute specialty to make you flustered in public. Once he’s found you get these delightful full body blushes he makes it his goals to tease you at the most inappropriate times. You hate him and you love him for it – this smug bastard. He just knows how to push your buttons way too well.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

He’s hot alright. He most definitely has those muscles for vanity reasons and thankfully vampirism made sure he’s keeping those abs no matter how much of a domestic softie he’s gotten with you.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

High – especially in the beginning. Once he’s free to enjoy his own desires at his own pace there will most definitely be this high-demand honeymoon phase. You’re both not quite sure it will always really end (and you surely hope not).

But: it’s also important for Astarion that he’s getting more confident to maybe just not be in the mood every single time. Just like you aren’t always, too. And that’s completely fine, you assure him time and time again that you’ll never want him to indulge you just because he feels an obligation.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

You can sleep when you’re dead. There’s way too much stuff to be done after: maybe another round (or more), cuddle, talk, goof around, down a bottle of wine.

Although slowly drifting into sleep after being fully satisfied and full of love and warmth: that’s definitely the best way to end a night.

#astarion #astarion ancunin #baldur's gate 3 #fanfiction #baldur's gate iii #astarion x tav #bg3 spoilers #baldurs gate #astarion x mc #astarion x oc #astarion x reader #astarion headcanon #astarion headcanons #astarion imagine #poro headcanons