#also my need to be a normie is playing into this | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

merakiui · 6 months

Text

long-distance love.

yandere!azul ashengrotto x (gender neutral) reader cw: yandere, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, nsfw, phone sex, obsession, power imbalance, kidnapping, implied (cyber)stalking, non-con touching, characters written as 18+ note - sea witch, the magicord mod you've had intimate online relations with, is closer than you thought.

Sea Witch is a busy man.

His weekly schedules are almost always packed to bursting, each event meticulously arranged into open slots as if aiming to form a perfect puzzle. Times never conflict; he’s particular about how he spends his hours, and very rarely does he allow himself a break. It has always been work, work, work. He’s one of the city’s most affluent, eligible bachelors and yet he’s married to his business. Those who lust after him think it’s a wasteful shame. Azul finds it to be a relief far greater than any he’s ever known. He will never compromise the enterprise he’s built from the ground up just because of some flimsy, fickle feelings.

Originally, he had no interest in Magicord, a messaging platform that grants people from all over the world the chance to congregate on specific servers for mutual interests like anime and gaming. He only downloaded it because Idia Shroud, a fellow friend and business partner, lived and breathed the app, his online presence so profound it was almost like a second home. He’d swipe away notifications from his actual messaging app, too busy in a voice call with his group of dungeon raiders to bother answering important calls.

So he resolved to get on Idia’s level in hopes of improving communication. Although Idia’s level, as Azul often noted, was not exactly a place he wanted to be. While Magicord could be used for business purposes, that wasn’t what drew people in. Azul of all people knew very well which target audiences were being reached with apps like Magicord, and he was not one of them.

“To think I’d stoop as low as this,” Azul had once groused over a phone call with Idia, who was giving him quite a lengthy, not-very-needed-but-also-very-much-needed rundown on Magicord’s inner workings. “I hardly have time to play games, let alone socialize on this…app.”

“Aren’t you always going on about how adaptable you are?” Idia sniped back, not in the mood for normie criticism. The sound of clacking keys could be heard on his end. “And you’re the one who asked. Kinda defeats the purpose of learning if you’re just gonna complain.”

Azul rolled his eyes. “I fail to see the logic in downloading another app just to ensure my messages reach you. Honestly, you ought to start checking your email. Or, at the very least, go through your missed call and text logs.”

Alas, Idia had been stubbornly adamant about his preferences and so, much to his displeasure, Azul was forced to undergo something of a Magicord Training Camp until he emerged a pro. And being a pro meant knowing how to navigate his own profile and toggle between that and Idia’s, which was really the only tip he needed because that was all he’d use the app for.

But Azul has always had an innate itch for wanting to know something from top to bottom, inside-out, and the idea of not knowing every little detail about Magicord drove him insane. If there was an opportunity he could capitalize on, why should he risk squandering it with his elementary-level knowledge? So he spent his rare slivers of free time playing around in there, creating a server and wondering who could ever become so attached to an app when the world beyond the screen was filled with just as many, if not more, social encounters.

His introverted side understood the appeal. In fact, he loved the idea of hiding behind a manufactured persona online. He didn’t have to be Azul Ashengrotto on Magicord. Rather, he could rid himself of his dislikable traits and become an entity—an idea or a concept—rather than a flawed man who others might scrutinize ruthlessly.

So he became Sea Witch, and within just a week he’d constructed quite the comfortable server. The invite link was spread throughout the various branches of Mostro. It would provide employees with an online sanctuary, where they could easily connect should doing so in person prove complicated (as had been the case regarding Idia, which was the sole reason he’d even poured so much time into this effort). Most of all, it gave Azul the chance to keep watch from afar, silently sitting in wait and curating a collection of mostly unimportant intel. Mere gossip, if anything.

But gossip is just as good as the next scandal. He likes to be prepared, a razored edge on all sides.

As far as the company was concerned, no one knew who this Sea Witch character was and no one knew who spread the link. And as far as individual employees knew, this was likely just some overworked intern’s labor of love—a well-crafted server intended to function as a digital gathering place for those exhausted after a long day. And that was mostly true, but all of the potential blackmail he could gather, the information he could glean, and even the people he could keep a closer eye on in an online setting—all of that paled in comparison to the real prize he’d attained. This was of great importance. It was something that altered the course of his life, opened his eyes to the brilliant beauty of a first love.

It was there in that undersea-themed haven where he met you, the one who would add flavorful spice to the once bland, boring meal that was his life. And just after a few weeks of simple, cordial conversation, he realized a single taste of your kind companionship wouldn’t be enough to sate him.

Greedy to a fault, Azul wanted you in your entirety.

Which brings him to the present, where he’s currently leaning back into the expensive leather of his driver’s seat. He’s parked on a silent strip of road, in a more residential part of the city. It’s not very busy here, and his windows are tinted to avoid immediate recognition. Rush hour won’t hit until later, and he’s not due for any conferences. He has time. Plenty of it to spare on this little excursion.

“I wanna meet you, Sea Witch,” you admit, nearly whining through the phone. “Where’re you from? Maybe we’re in the same area.”

Azul smiles at your impatience. You just can’t get enough of him, can you?

Every weekend, you hop into a VC with him and chat for hours on end. At first he simply provided a listening ear when you wished to rant through text or call. You’d voice all sorts of complaints. Azul filed them away in the event that they might be useful in the future, initially intending to use such information to ruin you should you prove to be someone worth ruining. But the more he spent listening and scrawling notes on blank paper, the more he realized you were just overworked and struggling financially.

Upon making these connections and learning all sorts of facts from you regarding your life beyond Magicord, he felt compelled to help. Out of the goodness of his heart, of course, ever the benevolent saint. And you weren’t complaining when he offered to pay you for your time. In exchange for two hours of conversation, he’d provide you with the funds you needed to afford your necessities.

Somehow, throughout many months of give and take—with his giving being on the jaw-droppingly exorbitant side, always one to top his own ludicrous generosity—your hours-long conversations would sink beneath the surface of mere companionship. It was one-sided intimacy. Azul was careful with what he shared, building a mostly secretive profile for himself. He didn’t want to risk tarnishing your fondness for Sea Witch by sharing details that felt more like Azul and less like the effortlessly funny, charming, and eloquent Magicord mod you’d originally made contact with.

You didn’t seem to worry about compromising your own privacy, easily divulging a variety of fun tidbits about your life. You’d share the tiniest of details and he’d eat it up every time, hungering for more than just crumbs. That time you sent him a photo of the octopus macarons you’d bought from a local bakery because you were thinking of him? He remembers it well, and he’s constantly reminded of it when you text him about things you did over the weekend or hobbies you basked in. Sending photos of your houseplants, asking him for his opinion on clothes you were hoping to buy (which he was always more than willing to sponsor; all you needed to do was send the link and he’d purchase it), and even trusting him enough to fall asleep in the VC with him (arguably one of his favorite things about your unique relationship).

And he called it unique not because it was a bad sort of strange. Rather, it was unique in the refreshing sense. He’d never had an online friend before, let alone someone who would so willingly and readily indulge him. Granted, this willingness stemmed from the deal he’d cut with you and so you were really only doing these things for your own gain. But then so was he. It was a relationship built upon necessity. You needed money to survive, and he needed you.

So it was okay to fall into sleazy fantasies. It was all an act anyway, and it wasn’t like you judged him or his preferences. At least, not outright. If you did, it was silent. You were considerate and sweet; and you really did consider him a friend. Or so he hoped. If your casual conversations were any proof, it was obvious there was some sort of enjoyment and trust there.

Friendship or something more, he would have you. Whether that meant in the safety of his pocket, enclosed within his mobile phone forever, or in his penthouse, tucked away in his bedroom—he’d have you.

“I’m from a city, yes,” he answers, purposely cryptic.

“Obviously. Come onnn, Witchy. Don’t you wanna meet me, too?”

“I do, and one day we’ll meet. I promise.”

He listens to your irritated groan and his cock twitches in his slacks. Good god, your voice is a blessing—more heavenly than a cherubic choir.

“One day isn’t today, though.”

“Perhaps not.” He speaks to distract you from the rustling fabric of his pressed suit as his hand strays further. He spies his reflection in the rearview mirror, notes the flash in his irises. If only you were here, sitting beside him in the passenger seat. If only he could slide his own seat as far back as it would go, lie still and serene, and let you climb into his lap to spear yourself on his erection. Genuine leather be damned. He wanted your scent, your essence, your everything engraved into the very interior. “Humor me—if we were to meet right now, what would you like to do?”

“Mm, I’d want to get a good look at the man I’ve been talking to for nine months now.”

“Oh, you’ve kept track?”

“You haven’t?” Your laughter is fluffy and light—authentic amusement. “And I’d want to memorize your face so that I’ll never forget it.”

“May I ask why?”

“Because I’m so curious! You know what I look like—”

“Not entirely,” he interjects, sly and silver-tongued. “You’re a portrait half-finished in my mind. Not yet sketched to completion.”

And it’s true. From your shoulders down, you are a faceless beauty. He’s seen you nearly naked and fully clothed, in frills and lace, in latex and ribbons, in satin and chiffon. And yet, for all of the skin you’ve shown, he can’t place a face (or a real name, for that matter) to your body.

“Okay, poet,” you tease, and he’s already palming himself through the fine fabric of his trousers. “But I’ve still never seen an inch of you. You’ve never even sent a dick pic.”

“You’ve never asked.”

“Can I have one now?”

“Nice try.”

“Asshole!” you gripe, clicking your tongue in disappointment. “You’re the worst, you know that?”

“I’m aware,” he hums, squeezing himself, his breath coming out faint and haggard.

Yeah, he’s the worst. But then you’re the best at eliciting these sorts of reactions from him. The effect you have on him is utterly enthralling. Your ability to reduce him to a pliable puddle in just a few words—a mere few lighthearted, hollow insults—is truly impressive. He’d feel ashamed of himself if it wasn’t so good.

“You’re probably not even that big.”

“Would you like an exact measurement?”

“Wouldn’t it be better to measure it in person? See how many inches I could fit inside. I’ve been practicing with that dildo you sent me—the one shaped like a tentacle,” you purr, frustratingly coy. He wants your sinful lips wrapped around his dick right now—wants to fuck your throat sore and raw. Wants nothing more than to spill heavy and hot on your tongue so you’ll taste him for days. “If we met up, we could make that happen. Sooo, where’s my Sea Witch from? What part of the world?”

“Patience, angelfish.”

Even though he says so, he’s practically vibrating with excitement as he worries his bottom lip between his teeth. Soon. So soon. Very, very soon.

And then…

He imagines you rolling your eyes with your next words. “Fine, fine. I’ll be patient. But that’s not gonna stop me from fantasizing.”

“Well, what do you think I look like?”

“Now isn’t that a fun question?” You mull it over. He can tell because you mutter a variety of ums and hmms in that soft, sweet voice of yours. “I think you’re tall and you have a handsome face that matches your equally handsome voice.”

“Yeah?” he encourages, undoing the belt, button, and zip on his pants one-handed. “What else?”

Your giggles filter into his ears, seeming closer than they actually are due to the wireless earbuds he’s wearing. “From what I’ve gathered, you seem to have expensive tastes.”

Sitting in his lavish, one-of-a-kind, custom-made sports car, Azul thinks you would be correct.

“I wonder what gave it away…” he drawls, his voice creeping an octave lower.

He places his phone in the cup holder, reaching to open the glove compartment and retrieving a tiny bottle of lube. Squirting a scant amount on his palm, he fishes himself, throbbing and pathetically hard, out of his boxers. His slick hand is a warm, welcome embrace around his silky-smooth shaft. He sucks in a breath through grit teeth, his eyes fluttering shut.

“Mhm, I wonder. It’s not the fact that you told me I should just buy a designer bag for work when I asked for recommendations. And it’s certainly not your ability to get me lots of nice gifts as if it’s nothing. So maybe it’s just your excessive generosity that makes you seem so rich?”

“Sure, we’ll go with that.”

“Speaking of that, what do you do for a living?”

“Guess.”

“Okay, Mr. Mysterious… Um… Hm. I think you’re a pilot.”

The whiplash that assumption brings is so seismically jarring he thinks he might go flaccid. Gripping himself with renewed vigor, he slides his fist along his length, slow and perfunctory, picturing you under his desk, your mouth open wide to receive him…

“A pilot… Mm, no, not quite.”

“Aw. My second guess was gonna be a contract killer. They make lots of money.”

“You have quite the wild imagination, angelfish. Even if I was one, do you think I’d admit that to you?”

“Maybe,” you tease. He pictures your smirk as it twists your perfect, pretty lips into something wicked. “For the right price, yeah?”

“Oh? Do elaborate.”

Please. Please keep going. Don’t stop talking. I need to hear you, closer, louder, clearer… More.

“What sort of price would I have to pay to get Sea Witch to spill his secrets?” you muse, your voice a tantalizing curl of syllables, but he suspects you already know the answer to your hypothetical. “I can’t offer you money, so you’d have to settle for something a little more…physical.”

He shivers, nodding his agreement even though you can’t see it. “Physical’s good,” he mumbles, foregoing eloquence in favor of filth. “Much better than—mm—than money…”

“Yeah? All right. Let’s see… You’re well-off and you might or might not be a contract killer. Do you wear suits?”

“I do.”

“Ooh, so you’re one of those contract killers.”

Azul can’t help it; he laughs, the sound tumbling out in a breathy gasp. “I prefer looking nice at all times.”

Languidly, his hand continues its idle pumping. He cracks his eyes open to peer at the pre-cum beading at the tip.

“Even if you’re just going to get messy?”

“Explicate the situation that’s leading me to soil my clothes. Details, angelfish.”

“Well, if you’re a killer who wears suits, you wouldn’t like even the smallest stain. It ruins your image, but if it was me…” You pause, probably for effect, and it works. His back arches with anticipation, fingers closing tighter. “You’d make an exception.”

“I would,” he admits far too quickly. “Always.”

“So you really would out yourself as a killer if I spread my legs for you?”

“No, but I’d let you dirty my suits.”

“Good. They’ll look better on the floor anyway.”

His breath hitches. Fuck, your every word is a siren’s song, leading him deeper into mist-clouded waters. He’d keep you pinned on his cock all day if he could. Why should you continue to work your mundane job when you could spend your precious hours with him instead? He’ll be your job. Seven days a week, during each of the breaks he’ll pencil into his schedules, you can visit him and he can empty all of his stress into you. And you’ll take it because you’re such an obedient sweetheart for him, always so ready to please your master.

He prays you can’t hear the salacious squelch of skin on skin as he works himself towards the edge, but a nastier part of him wants you to listen in so you’ll be reminded that this is your fault. No one else can possibly make him this messy. No one else is capable of rendering him a clumsy, lovestruck fool. You’re probably well aware of these facts, having brought him to this same edge numerous times in the past. Sometimes you would reach that tipping point alongside him, your gasps and groans joining his in an obscene duet.

Neither of you decided upon today’s development, but he thinks—knows—you’re intentionally stringing him along. You want this as much as he does.

“So was I right? You’re totally a contract killer?”

“I’m a businessman, angelfish,” he corrects, a silly, drunken smile softening his jaw. You make him feel so stupid, so warm and fond.

“So basically the same thing. Just as ruthless, no?”

“Please, you wound me. I’m always kind.”

“Ah, so there are others who get this treatment? And I thought I was the only one…”

“You are. No one could ever compare to you.”

He intends to tack my love onto the sentence’s end, but he stops himself. You’re not his love. Not really. You’re his angelfish, sure, but that’s different. That’s just a pet name befitting the aquatic theme he masquerades behind. And you’re not really Azul’s. You’re Sea Witch’s.

It’s Sea Witch you know and love. Beyond that, Azul is just Azul. And he’s nothing like the ideal he’s cultivated on Magicord.

He sighs and forces himself out of the turbulent trenches of his withering self-esteem. Now is not the time to contemplate which version of himself you’d be more preferential to.

You’ll have no choice but to love the real him. Soon.

“Really? I feel so special.” Impressed, you whistle and add, “I’ve gotta make you feel special, too.”

“You already have—”

“Not inside the VC. Come on, Sea Witch, don’t you wanna meet me?”

“I do. I really do,” he babbles dumbly, grinding his thumb into his slit and smearing pre-cum. He grits his teeth and tamps down a colorful word. How he yearns for this to be your hand wrapped around his length, tugging him to that far-off finish line. “I want nothing more than to—t-than to see you, all of you, in person…”

“So what’s stopping you? I could do a lot more in person than I can over the phone.” He has a smart reply for that, but it sticks in his throat. Pitifully, like the rightful debauched mess he is, he groans, low and guttural. “Let me turn the question on you, Sea Witch. If we were to meet today, what would you like to do to me?”

So many things, he thinks, a litany of smutty imagery flickering through his head.

But Sea Witch is classy (most days) and today is one of those instances. Or at least he’s going to make an attempt, however weak it may be.

“Take you to dinner,” he mumbles, executing jerky, quick motions in a daze, his cock weeping for release. He throws his head back, peers up at the interior roof of his car, and inhales sharply. “Take you all over the city if it pleases… I’d spoil you with so much finery—dress you up and then tear every article off…”

“And then?”

“And—god, fuck—wanna be inside you, angelfish… So badly—need you so badly. I wanna feel you and kiss you and hold you.”

He’s unraveling, strings pulled taut and fraying to extremity. Azul bucks into his hand and imagines it’s you, tight and warm, a sweet, snug embrace. He opens and closes his mouth, intending to beg you for more, but all that slips out are the tiniest huffs and grunts. He’s so wrapped up in his own ardor that he almost misses your quiet pants, every breath squeezed out of you as if you’re struggling to withhold your gratuitous moans. And it’s deplorable, really, the way his ears prick at these muffled sounds, the way his cock stands rigidly at attention, the way he’s falling through fragments of filthy fantasies, each one so close and yet impossibly far.

“I want you, too,” you mewl, tone wavering between shameless thrill and some sort of seventh heaven.

He wonders what you’re using to pleasure yourself. Are your fingers, slick and curled, rubbing up against those perfect, pretty spots that have you seeing stars? Or are you using the toys he purchased for your enjoyment? Maybe you’re lowering yourself onto the dildo right now, gummy walls clenching around girthy silicone. And maybe you’re tugging at your nipples, massaging them between the pads of your fingers, or maybe you’ve swapped skin-to-skin for a bullet vibrator instead.

Maybe—just maybe—it’s the mere thought of him that sets your flesh aflame with an intoxicating desire.

“And I want you—” you gasp, and his mind travels to all of the risqué photos you’ve sent, each one saved in a password-protected album on his phone— “I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anything before. I want you to show me that no one else can compare to you. I want you to—mmh, hah—to hold me down in bed and fuck me until my legs are sore and I can’t walk.”

I will, he thinks, lashes fluttering on his cheekbones. He strokes himself quickly, chest heaving, tongue near-lolling out of his mouth as he pants like a hound in heat. I’ll do all of that and so much more. I’ll fuck every coherent thought out of your pretty head, keep you just smart enough to rely on me, turn you into the prettiest sea flower who’ll only blossom for me.

“I promise, angelfish. I promise I’ll give you everything you’ve ever wanted,” he vows, his nerves alight with lustful delight, “and you’ll never know misfortune again.”

“I—oh! I’m close, so close! Please, Sea Witch! Please don’t stop. Please fill me up and make me yours!”

The sheer vulgarity twined through amatory vehemence, coupled with his own hurried pace, has him tumbling down the slope, arousal peaking and spilling over in thick, creamy spurts. He has half a mind to catch his spend before it can ruin the pristine interior of his car, and he blinks down at the semen sullying his palm. Idly, he rubs his fingers together to test the viscosity, wondering how his fluids would look on your face, your stomach, your ass—or even pooling out of your hole in plentiful amounts.

That fantasy is enough to send blood rushing right back to his softening cock, and he wills those thoughts away with logic—complex calculations and the financial forecast for Mostro. There will be plenty of time to indulge in sexual cravings later. He reminds himself of this while he tamps down his zeal, his heart relaxing in his ribs as he sits with the slowly ebbing aftershocks of orgasm.

You seem to be doing much the same, for you’ve gone perfectly quiet.

“Everything all right, angelfish?” he whispers after a few minutes, his breath now evened out.

“Mm, yeah. All good over here. Messy, but good.”

“I’m comforted knowing we’re in the same boat.” He chuckles while fumbling to dig a cotton handkerchief from the depths of his suit jacket. He cleans the cum and residual lube from off his hands and dick before neatly tucking himself away. Soon, there will be no need for this charade. Soon, he can adore all of you from beyond the screen. “Angelfish, there’s something I’d like to tell you.”

“What’s up?” you murmur, your own voice settling into its usual cheery cadence. He suspects you’re just putting on an act to sound happier. That will change when you’re reunited in person because it will be real. Because there will be no point in pretending through the phone.

“Well…” Azul smiles, folds and unfolds the sodden handkerchief, and then straightens his posture. He should be on his way now. “Ah, it’s nothing. Never mind it. I’ll tell you later.”

“Whaaat? But you’ve made me so curious now. Don’t just leave me in suspense!”

“Then I’m afraid you’ll have to remain in that suspense indefinitely.”

“Ugh. You’re so annoying sometimes.”

He knows you don’t mean that.

“I’ll tell you soon, angelfish. Exercise a little patience. There’s no rush.”

“Easy for you to say. You know what it is.”

“That I do, yes.” He hums, considering his next words. “Would it help if I left you with a word of advice?”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“Everything.”

“Um. Okay, sure. Hit me. What’s your advice?”

Azul buckles himself in, starting his car via push button. It rumbles to life, smooth and steady. “Don’t fight so much, my dear.”

“Don’t what? Sea Witch, what are you talking—”

Your words are interrupted with a startled yelp. Azul listens to the struggle as if it’s a podcast enjoyed at sunrise. Things are toppled in the chaos; something shatters. He catches the beginnings of a blood-curdling shriek before it’s swiftly silenced. There’s more muffled scuffling before, eventually, absolute peace.

It’s broken by Floyd’s petulant whine. “Maaan, Shrimpy was so difficult. Thought you said they were easy, Azul.”

“Understandably so,” comes Jade’s astute reply. “We did catch them when they were most vulnerable.”

Floyd hums his agreement. “Y’know, Jade, Shrimpy’s kinda cute…”

“They are, aren’t they, Floyd?”

“Whatever you’re thinking, perish it right now,” Azul hisses, features twisting into something dark. “Keep your slimy mitts off of my angelfish.”

There’s an unsettling silence. Azul rolls his eyes. They’re fishing for a reaction he refuses to give.

“Clean up whatever mess you’ve made.” He takes his car out of park and eases into drive. “And don’t let anyone see you. It’ll be a hell of a pain if neighbors make unnecessary reports.”

“Yeah, yeah. Heard ya loud and clear.”

“Very well. Farewell for now.”

The call is cut. Azul grips the steering wheel, smug.

Soon waits for him on the horizon. He will not be a minute late.

You wake on a bed, in a spacious bedroom with exquisite floor-to-ceiling windows, many stories up in the clouds. A brightly lit cityscape sprawls beyond the confines of this room, illuminated with the deceptive shine of promise and success. At first it looks foreign. But then you recognize notable buildings, each standing tall and proud amidst the rest, and it occurs to you that you’re in a stranger’s home, in the heart of the big city.

The room itself is plainly colored; it reminds you of a hotel or a room you might find in a real estate catalogue. Perplexed, you sit up and take pause as your unfamiliar surroundings prove to be more frightful than your own confusion.

Pasted to the walls are various printed screenshots from Magicord, each one detailing a conversation of sorts. You stare at the wall behind you, the one in which the bed is currently pushed against, and peer closer at the contents of these messages.

They’re all from you.

Endearing terms you’ve called him in passing. Gentle insults. Lewd flirts. Vents and rants. Photos you’ve sent of very insignificant things—houseplants, meals, clothes. And then there are the photos of your body in skimpy lingerie and cosplay, all taped to the wall like this is some abstract museum of the digital you. The you who, despite being honest most of the time, took solace in the world of Magicord. The you who’d grown close with the mod from that whimsical ocean-themed server. The you who is now trapped, your ankle enclosed in a cuff. There’s a lead that only allows you to meander into the attached bathroom if you so please, and you suspect it’ll pull taut if you try to leave the room.

“What the fuck?” you mutter, your stomach twisting with disgust.

You look down at your clothes—you’re in someone’s collared shirt, intentionally designed to be oversized so that it drapes like a nightgown—and horror prickles your skin.

And then he arrives.

He’s dressed casually in black slacks and a simple white dress shirt, primly tucked in with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows. You stare for a long moment, studying his features as his familiarity dawns. Your mouth falls open in a muted scream.

He smiles sweetly, stepping further into the amber glow from the bedside lamps. “It’s nice to formally meet you. I’m Sea Witch.”

But that’s not what’s shocking about this. The real shock—the thing that has your brain stumbling in an effort to put the pieces together before the picture can crumble—is far more jarring than the kidnapping and the captivity. You find your voice then, and before you can stop yourself the words are falling out in a hurry.

“CEO Ashengrotto?!”

Sea Witch—CEO Ashengrotto—stiffens, his brows furrowing immediately. He gives you a sharp, dangerous look. A look that seems to radiate one unspoken question: Where did you hear that name?

“You… You’re A-Azul Ashengrotto,” you continue, swallowing thick trepidation. “CEO of Mostro. You opened a new restaurant last year—Crave, right? And the menu features celebrity favorites—celebrities like Vil Schoenheit and Neige LeBlanche.”

He laughs his disbelief, carding a hand through soft, silvery locks. “How…do you know this?”

“I work there. You visited once with your secretary for quality checks. We even crossed paths.”

Azul gawks, realizes he’s gawking, and clears his throat. “I… I see. Well.” He inhales, holds his breath for three seconds, and exhales. “This makes things rather…awkward.”

“When you said businessman, I didn’t think… I mean, how was I supposed to know? Your voice sounds so different over call than it does in interviews.”

“Of course it does! I never use the same inflection for those things.”

This cannot be real, you think, watching him flounder anxiously. Azul Ashengrotto is Sea Witch. This whole time… Nine entire months… I was talking to the CEO—to the city’s most popular bachelor—and I didn’t even know it. They write articles about this guy! He’s all over the TV! How did I never realize?

And then a very mortifying thought worms its way in: Oh my God. We both know each other’s preferences. He saw so much of me—more than I’d ever want him to see—and I heard too many private things during our calls…

“Let’s just…” You rub circles into your temples to quell the incoming migraine. “Let’s never talk about this again. You can buy my silence and I’ll move on with my life. I’ll even forget all of…” You glance at the Magicord conversations stuck to the wall and then the chain binding your ankle. “All of this…stuff. We’ll agree to call it a misunderstanding and life will be good, yeah?”

The bargain doesn’t seem to reach him. He continues to stare at you, his eyes glazed with an emotion you can’t place. Whatever it is, it’s stormy and dark. You don’t like it, and you shrink away when he steps closer.

“All this time you were right under my nose…”

Azul climbs onto the bed with you, the mattress depressing under the additional weight. Framed by the hypnotic radiance of the skyscrapers climbing heavenward, he’s certainly earned his place in every celebrity gossip magazine you’ve ever read. Articles debating whether he’s secretly committed to a relationship. Articles theorizing what his life plans may have in store for him. Articles discussing whether he’ll ever get married, if he’ll remain single for the rest of his life, if he’ll ever open his heart to the many people who hope to earn his romantic affections.

No one knows it—how could they when he’s so tight-lipped with the paparazzi?—but you are the secret variable the articles have yet to discover. You are the covert partner, the one who has won his heart, the one who now sits shackled on his bed.

What sort of tabloid journalist could ever spin this story?

You scoot further up the bed, your back pressing against the ornately extravagant headboard. Your knees are pulled into your chest, a futile attempt at protection.

“All this time you were so close to me…” He marvels at this, his baby blue hues locked permanently on you. “And neither of us knew. I could’ve had you much sooner had I just realized…”

You blink at him, your heart sinking with every passing second. “Mr. Ashengrotto, what do you mean by that?”

A pout tugs at perfect, pretty lips. “Why so formal, angelfish? We’re much closer than that, surely.” His hands settle upon your knees, gently pulling them apart. Your blood curdles with fear. “There’s no need to be so tense. It’s only me.”

“No… Please wait. Hold on!”

“Hm? If I’m not mistaken, this is what you want. You were rather vocal about your desires. You’ve always been. So why are you looking at me like that? I’m not scary, am I?”

You squeeze your eyes shut. “Please let me go…”

He clicks his tongue in disapproval, his tone patient despite the subject. “You know I can’t do that.”

“But you… You kidnapped me! Y-You had those guys hiding in my home and they…” You shake your head, unable to describe the sheer terror that had overwhelmed you when those creepy twins descended. Hopeless, you open your eyes to give him your most despairing look. Tears brim in your eyes, threatening to fall at the slightest prodding.

“Oh, my dear, did they scare you? They’re brutes who know nothing of how to treat a person with adequate care. You needn’t worry anymore. I’m here for you.” He cups your face in a fond hold, thumb rubbing soothing circles into your cheek. “Don’t cry, angelfish. You’re in good hands—my hands. And have they not been the most generous?”

“You’re crazy. Obsessed! How can you think any of this is okay? Look around at the walls! You’ve pasted our conversations everywhere—they’re practically the wallpaper!”

“What of it?” His hand slides down to grip your chin, forcing you to meet him at eye level. “I love you. I have for months now. And if those are the ways you choose to classify my care, so be it.”

Tear trails trace down your face. He leans in to kiss the rivers away, but they morph into the saltiest of seas.

“You may not approve of my affections right this very moment. You may hate me, think I’m monstrous, a culmination of all things foul, but you will love me. In due time, my dear. And when you do, the world will open and the chain will come off and you will know freedom under my roof.”

He has the gall to worship you with a loving smile. It poisons you with newly brewing abhorrence.

“So cry your heart out. Scream and kick up a fit. Do what you must. And when the floods subside, we can learn to love one another. Both at our best and our worst, within and beyond Magicord.”

#yandere twst #yandere twst x reader #yandere twisted wonderland x reader #yandere twisted wonderland #yandere azul ashengrotto x reader #yandere azul ashengrotto #yandere azul #yandere azul x reader #n/sfw

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punkeropercyjackson · 1 month

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"Hobie would be so embarrased to do cutesy things or be close to someone who does!"Oh my fucking god,shut UP-Not only does he walk around in lipstick and a crop top but he's also SpiderPUNK,not SpiderMAN.There is ZERO masculinity insecurity in him and punk isn't edgy for the sake of edge,it's about nonconformity and being yourself and standing up for people who don't fit in as much as it is direct action because you can't be anti-corruption and fight for equality by shaming people for being different from you in ways that aren't bad,that's dumb asf and misses the point!!If Gwen wants to do pastel transfemme things with him or Miles wants him to join in on sillykid activities or Pavitr has to ask him to give girl advice on Gayatri to the point it leads to him sneaking off on their date to help or Margo gets him a game emulator so he can play Animal Crossing and dressup games and dating sims with her or Peni needs him to take extra care of her post-canon event by making her feel like she did before with things like cooking her japanese sweets and giving her a lot of physical affection,then YOU BET YOUR ASS HE'S GOING TO AND LOVE EVERY SECOND OF IT BECAUSE HE LOVES THEM!!!!! Mans deadass canonically turns pink when he's happy,how tf do you get 'dosen't like cute things' from that?????Hobie's got too much street cred to give two shits about 'proving' to randos he's an actual punk,stop making him a normie because the only punk you know is that nigga from the Avril song💀

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ahegato · 1 year

Text

Obey Me Brothers: Views on Romance

m.list

TW: slight swearing Characters: demon bros Writer: ahegato

LUCIFER:

he’s pretty old fashioned

pulling out chairs, opening doors, fancy dinner dates, giving roses and expensive jewelry

lots of “my love”, “darling” and “my dear”

he hasn’t experienced a lot of casual love, where you just stay at home and just watch a movie or something like that

it kinda hurts his pride, because it feels like he’s not doing enough to spoil his partner

however, with time he’ll get used to it and actually start to enjoy it

not big on PDA other than an arm around the waist or maybe holding hands

maybe also a kiss or two, just to flex on his brothers a bit xP

MAMMON:

he pretends that he’s too cool for romantic stuff

literally everyone can see through that lie

he’s not big on dates where people can see him

because he’d be too embarrassed about being vulnerable (like expressing his emotions) in front of others

if he’s alone with his partner though…

it’s like a switch has been flipped

constant kissing, hugging, cuddling, compliments and gifts

“I saw this and it made me think of you”

*literally just a pretty rock he found*

it’s so dumb yet so fucking cute at the same time

I can’t with the raven boy seriously

LEVIATHAN:

ew romance

such a cliché and gross and normie thing

…yet he can’t help but like it

he’s almost embarrassed about it

not really into the whole ‘going out on dates’-thing

because he has pretty bad social anxiety and there’s people freaking everywhere

closest he’ll get to an actual date is going out to calm places with little to no people

only exception to that rule is cosplaying together at one of those conventions

what he really likes is the whole high school / ‘young love’ kind of love

holding hands when walking somewhere

or “sneakily” holding hands under the dinner table (which is obvious to literally everyone except the couple)

playing video games together, watching movies or anime

posting lyrics from a song with a pic of them holding hands on devilgram

SATAN:

AWWWW YEAHH

romance nut over here

not exactly old fashioned like Lucifer

he’s just a hopeless romantic, but also pretty chill in a way?

like hanging out with his partner at home and just making it hella romantic (candles, rose petals, chocolate)

even if it’s something as simple as a movie night or a sleepover

constant compliments about looks, personality, everything really

SO. MANY. POEMS.

dinner dates, whether at home or at a restaurant

he wants to shower his partner with affection and is very fond of PDA

if they don’t like hugs/kisses in public, he’ll be kinda sad but will of course respect it

ASMODEUS:

casual love and old fashioned love, he likes a bit of both

dressing up and looking his absolute best for a romantic date is awesome

but staying in and watching horrible romcoms in your pajamas is also awesome

not really into the whole gentleman stuff

but he wants someone to spoil

and someone to spoil him

going on dates with matching outfits makes him absolutely melt

posts pics of his partner whenever he can

usually writes really lame stuff like “look how cute they are akfjbfhngkfkf”

BEELZEBUB:

romance is nice, but not something he necessarily needs or craves

dinner dates is obviously something he loves

but honestly he could go to freaking mcdonald’s and he would still think it’s the most romantic shit ever

he likes the cute but lowkey kind of love

kind of like middle school love

gives food or snacks as gifts

gets super happy if his partner does the same for him

if his partner gets cramps or something like that, he’ll go buy literally anything for them

likes to help people out, especially his partner

he always adds “i love you” when you guys say goodbye to do your own thing

BELPHEGOR:

thinks it’s very cliché and not very fond of it

he doesn’t wanna have to take his partner out on dates to different places very often just to keep them happy

or constantly give gifts

if he’s gonna give you something, it needs to have some deeper meaning to it or be something useful (like a pillow or blanket)

he prefers to stay at home and do something or nothing with his partner

something away from other people

like sleeping together (and I mean actually sleeping), watching a movie, maybe have a picnic or go for a walk

prolly likes taking pics of you while you’re sleeping or when you guys are cuddling

good luck getting away once he’s snuggled up to you. you ain’t going anywhere

✦ [ 08/05/2023 ] ✦ ahegato ✦

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suguru-getos · 11 months

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jing yuan nsfw hcs / fem reader <3

im literally at work ignore my silly blabbering but i need to get the carnal need for him outta my system kay thx 😼🫶🏻

daddy kink - let me elaborate, this man loves to shelter people and make people safe. which is a good thing because when hes balls deep inside you, all he needs you to call him 'daddy' to make him absolutely feral. he would rut inside that harder, groan in absolute pleasure that sends vibrations through your core.

the type to use his hairtie lace as a bondage rope around your breasts, around your hands and tie you to the bed’s headboard. he loves when you squirm out but also reminds you of the intimacy he cherishes w you, having you enveloped in something that’s always in touch with him. <3

size kink — he’s not your normie person, he’s the general and has got the build of a general. smirks when you struggle against his girth, trying your best to allow him more room to sheath his cock inside your pussy. how you scream out when he start’s thrusting and pressing the tummy bulge which basically stimulates your gspot externally.

he loves power play, you’d often find him fully clothed while you call him general and ask beg him to fuck you nicely until you’re reduced to nothing but a sloppy mess. he loves making you brainfucked to the point you can’t even form coherent sentences.

loves mirror sex and full nelson, it just reminds you how teeny tiny you are compared to him. he would coo praises at you with the slightest of degratory hint, “such a cute little baby, desperate and pathetically cute.”

he likes marking you up, only in places where he sees. he’s got too much of pride to let any comment regarding his personal life slide— better not to give people the opportunity? he would mark up your breasts, your pussy lips, your inner thighs. everywhere that is a little too sensitive and a little too eager to be touched by him.

would definitely ask if youve been good, if you are deserving enough to be pleasured by him. its all a part of his schemes ;3 he plays chess after all :3

#jing yuan #jing yuan hsr #jing yuan smut #jing yuan thirst #jing yuan hcs #hsr smut #hsr thirst #jing yuan x reader #jing yuan x you #hsr x reader #hsr imagines #hsr x reader smut #jing yuan x reader smut

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btdemaru · 1 year

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Obey Me! Dating fluff headcanon.

ft. The 7 demon brothers seperate

(obey me brothers x GN! Reader)

Note : these r just the headcanon + love language that i think would fit them, if it's abit ooc i apologize!

Warning : slightly suggestive

Lucifer

his love language is definitely acts of service and quality time

Opening doors for you, pouring you a cup of coffee he made just for the both of you

Whenever he's doing work and you're in the room with him, he'd probably pull you onto his lap

Lucifer loves and always enjoys the times you spend together frfr

Even if it's just in his room, going for night walks, fancy dinners and so on

If you guys go out for dinner or just grocery shopping he would definitely put his hand around your waist just to show everyone there that you're his

He'll say that hes a little overprotective.. even tho 'little' is far from how protective he actually is 💀

Tends to overwork himself so you have to force him to get his ass to bed whether you drag him or not

Is too prideful to admit that he craves your hugs and cuddles every night

Mostly calls you 'my love' or 'my dearest'

If you disturb him while he's working on a deadline or just giving him an attitude he'd definitely be pissed and wouldn't hesitate to put your bratty attitude in place

Loves kissing your lips and neck

Mammon

I think his love language is gifting (more to receiving gifts lmfao) and physical touch

Will make you his lucky charm when he's gambling 😉

If he won, you're in for a treat! Would spend the money he won on you by buying you new clothes, shoes, jewelry or even a lingerie (more of a gift for him tbh)

Mammon is very caring towards you so when he sees that you're down or upset he'd definitely will try his hardest to cheer you up

Which probably is easy since he's such a fun demon to he around with so you're never bored with him around

I think his nicknames for you that he uses alot is probably 'stupid' or 'human'

Ofcourse he doesn't mean it when hes insulting you though

If he hears anyone insulting you he'd make a scene which sometimes mostly isn't really needed if you dont give a shit about what other demon/people say.

Favorite parts of you he likes to kiss is your cheeks

Leviathan

I've always imagined him as a sweet boy (so breedable)

His love language? Quality time and maybe physical touch <3

He's mostly in his room, so when you invited yourself in and started talking about how you like his interest he'd burst right there and then.

Loves your touch, perhaps abit clingy..? Typa guy who'd snuggle with you in bed while he's playing games or sitting on your lap while he's fighting bosses 👌

has difficulty accepting that you choose to spend time with him or even dating him

If you decide to cosplay just for his eyes only his brain would malfunctioned, face and ears all red flushed

Tbh he'd get just a teeny tiny bit jealous when you pay more attention to henry 2.0 than him but he thinks it's cute that you also care for his little goldfish.

Would call you 'normie' or just by your name

Loves when you reassure him no matter the situation, when he has nightmares or his self-esteem isn't good or more.

Kisses your inner thighs or hand

Satan

Maybe word of affirmation?

Satan would write and reads the poems he made just for you

Most likely he'll read you stories if you're struggling to sleep or has insomnia

he will let you read him the book he's reading while he lays on your lap demanding his head to be stroked as well

Favorite activity with you is reading together in bed the whole day or going to a cat cafe, taking pictures of you holding a cat (would probably make it his wallpaper)

He can be harsh sometimes especially when he just had an argument again with Lucifer and would apologize dearly when he lashes out at you.

Not much of a PDA fan but will hold your hand when the you're going out together

Idk abt nicknames but probably 'kitten' (?) Or 'darling'

Satan will keep every cat item you gave him (keychain, plushie ect)

Kisses your right hand alot along with your lips

Asmodeus

Physical touch 🔛🔝

We all know he's flirty and he won't hide it

He loves PDA so be prepared lmaoo, he'll hold your hand/waist or give you random kisses here and there whether it's on your lips, neck, hand anywhere!

You guys would go on shopping dates ALOT, he loves picking clothes for you and once even tried going in to the changing room with you to "help".

Shopping with him takes pretty long- after buying clothes he goes to buy perfume then shoes then nail polishes then this and that, but no worries he'd spoil you to buy whatever you want there

Asmo buys alot of matching outfits for the both of you

Without you noticing he'd probably buy new toys every now and then for the both of you to try (iykyk)

Another favorite activity he likes to drag you into is warm steamy baths together, just the thought of your bare body touching gets him excited!

Has plenty of nickname for you its uncountable 'sweetie', 'love', 'darling', 'dollface', 'hottie' and 'sexy'

Beelzebub

quality time

This big boy melts like putty when you cook for him, whether it's a dish from where you came from to his favorite foods

Likes to cuddle with you while eating chips, the crumbs tend to get all over you but he has no problem cleaning it up with his mouth

Ask you on a movie date alot (bringing snacks and food is a must!!)

Loves when you're watching him exercise and would be happy if you join him

He'd blush hard if he notice you staring at his body (who wouldn't tbh)

Sometimes but rarely ask his twin brother to join on sleepy dates

Usually would walk behind you or hold your hands, nobody would dare to do anything to you if he's around- he would throw hands if you got physically hurt by someone- so you'll definitely feel safe with him

'honey' or food based stuff is probably his favorite nickname to call you.

I think he'd bite you softly more than kisses, but if he does kisses you it's mostly collarbone or forehead

Belphegor

Like his twin beel, loves quality time with you!

Your dates with him would probably 99.999% be sleepy dates and cuddles

Always ask you to sleep next to him, bodies tangled together and just so comfy he LOVES it!

I personally like to think that he purrs- so imagine him purring loudly while you give him head pats and sleeping on your chest.

Gives you the right airpods/headset so you both can relax while listening to music together, just enjoying each other's company

His body temperature is ice cold so if you're a warm person expect him to cling to you everywhere

If you aren't there he'd probably pouts while hugging his pile of stuffed animals and pillows until you get back

Hogs your lap purposely if you're having a conversation with beel, belphie pretends to be asleep tho he's listening to both of your convo.

Nicknames? I think he'd just call you by your name.

Sleepy kisses on your lips, sometimes sloppy makeout sessions.

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comradekatara · 3 months

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hi, fully optional atla meta question: hypothetically, how would the rest of the gaang react if they somehow found out how very damaged and mentally ill sokka is? (also please know that I am asking this because you have the very bestest sokka takes thank you)

im so sorry, but something about the phrasing of this ask is just really funny to me??? idk why but i can’t stop picturing them all in therapy a la that one sunny episode. “the gaang gets analyzed.” aang being like “i was frozen in an iceberg for an entire century.” “that’s not possible.” “well first of all through the avatar spirit all things are possible, so jot that down.” azula constantly spouting that she graduated top of her class at the royal fire academy for girls so there’s no way some two bit shrink will be able to get through to her. toph insisting that she is impenetrable vault while spitting peanut shells at her therapist with utmost hostility, five minutes later she’s sobbing about her mommy. zuko doesn’t even need five minutes, he starts sobbing about his mommy in under five seconds. katara willingly recounts the entire story of her life but it’s the most biased narrative you’ve ever heard. ty lee somehow gets her therapist to open up to her. mai just does a little comedy bit to amuse herself until their time is up, and then afterwards she’s like “hm…. maybe i should’ve actually brought up my pervading existential dissatisfaction and constant unending misery.” suki doesn’t realize what the purpose of a therapy session is and keeps treating it like a first date. sokka keeps insisting that he doesn’t need therapy because he’s too smart for it. his therapist is like “i am perfectly willing to acknowledge that you’re a genius but that’s also totally irrelevant to the project of cognitive behavioral therapy.” sokka basically just treats it like a game to be won and somehow manages to describe every single facet of his life truthfully while passing himself off as perfectly well-adjusted and happy. katara and zuko come out of their sessions like “wow i feel so refreshed, like so many of my emotional burdens have been lifted, and i can finally navigate my feelings in a healthier way. isn’t therapy great?” and sokka’s just like “maybe for you normies. while you’re working on developing healthier coping mechanisms or whatever, i’m playing psychological pai sho with a guy who thinks i’m so mentally stable i don’t even need therapy.” so basically he is a lost cause.

#kalliopeia-musing #asks #i realized i actually didn’t answer your question at all #but it genuinely makes me too sad to talk about #so instead you get this #the gaang and #synthesis #(always sunny reference)#sokka #the royal fire academy for girls is the penn state of the fire nation btw #(jk obviously azula only goes to harvard)

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traumxrei-archive · 1 year

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What if Ortho get a cute little kid crush on us (real or just a set-up lol) and it's because of that that Idia starts crushing on us too? Goes from "stay away from my brother" to "oh no, we're competing for the same person"

HELPPP but ortho's oblivious about it. he just thinks that it's great that idia's also becoming friends with one of his best friends meanwhile idia is having a level five mental breakdown bc oh my god he had a crush on the normie that he thought was going to take way ortho but actually you were a decent person who was willing to play pvp games with him even though you lost—

at first, idia was suspicious of your intentions. because...to be honest, no one had ever tried to befriend ortho with pure intentions. (he couldn't count the amount of times he had an alert on his tablet and rushed over to find someone stun-gunned next to where ortho was. seriously, it was way too many times.) and idia had a bit of a protective streak when it came to ortho. okay, he had a lot of a protective streak, but that was besides the point !!

it wasn't like ortho needed help picking out his friends. he had equipped ortho with an interface that had a built in heart rate monitor, and surely with having the literal internet in his mind, it was easy to differentiate the mob characters from the friendly npcs.

and even so, friendly npcs stayed friendly npcs because he scared them away. he wasn't really trying to, it was just people found him...too depressing. hell, even idia found himself too depressing at times, so he couldn't blame them. all the affection points ortho gained were balanced by the negative points that idia gained.

but what he couldn't understand was how you took his presence in stride. he remembered the first time he walked in to you and ortho huddled on the floor of his room. he had tried to turn around and leave, but ortho had spotted him. and he couldn't just leave, because in scenarios like this if he left it would look like he was running away. he played enough rpgs to know at least that much.

so he stood there as ortho introduced you as his friend. friend. friend. not an npc, not a mob, but a friend—

idia was about to pass out. he snuck a glance at you only to find you staring at him. he immediately looked away, scolding himself because that was a mistake only an absolute noob would make. he clearly didn't have enough AP to try and deal with you now, plus he would attract ortho's aggro if he was discorteous toward you in front of him. so idia bided his time.

okay, so idia was both forgetful and a coward, both un-protagonist-like traits, but he still had them! this was the reason why he liked playing rouge or magician characters in his rpgs. but, okay, he was getting off topic.

it's just that you were...nice. you were nice to him, and he could see how happy ortho was whenever you two were together. his room became a place you visited often, and idia had gotten used to you. just a little bit.

(do not remind him of the first time ortho left you in his room together. idia had felt like he was about to explore. his brain was lagging behind and you were staring at him expectantly. he had said a couple of jilted sentences to you and now his social skill was on cooldown. but no, idia wasn't going to talk about that or remember it)

and he found that you weren't as normie as you looked. you liked anime and mangas, which was already a death flag avoided for your future in idia's eyes. if anything else went wrong, you could get isekai'd, you claimed, and idia had seconded your opinion. but he would've probably been reincarnated as a canon fodder character. you immediately told him that even if he was canon fodder, he could easily break the system.

(idia wouldn't admit it, but he found you extremely based for around 0.8 seconds before he regained his sanity. he wasn't supposed to like you. or get along with you.)

and you weren't that bad at the pvps that he showed you. you showed a lot of promise. your movements in-game were clumsy, but you had a pretty good reaction time. and you always voiced out creative strats that gave idia goosebumps.

over time, he even got you hooked into one of his favorite rpg gacha games. and whenever ortho left you two alone, you would proudly show him your levels and characters you had accumulated. idia would only snort, because you had barely scratched the surface of the game, but then you would launch a pillow at his head, so he learned to hide his gloating from you.

ortho was delighted by this progression. he exclaimed that it was nice that they could all hang out together now, and play three-player games that idia had been saving for years. (the three of did do that one weekend. they spent the entire time playing those games until even idia's back started hurting. but he was having such a great time that he couldn't stop.)

it was all fine and well until idia started noticing how you came up to him in the rare times he went outside. to be fair, he was grateful to have someone to hide behind whenever ortho wasn't there, but his heart was beating too damn fast.

like that time when you went into the mystery shop to get his box of snacks for him because it was rush hour. it was so....so pog, that he couldn't help but feel his heart flutter—

wait...was he playing too many otome games, or did his heart just flutter at the sight of you....?

oh no.

oh no, this was bad, this was nightmare level, death flag raising type of bad, because...you were supposed to be ortho's friend. you weren't supposed to be his irl, 3D, not-virtual-reality c-word ! (c-word. cru— no, idia couldn't bring himself to say it, it made it all more real)

and now he can't get that affection bar out of the his periphery, nor can he get the sparkles and roses out of his eyes whenever he saw you. he was playing to the rng gods that he would pick the correct dialogue options that led to the good ending. after all, he wouldn't mind you being his official player two.

— okay, that's it from me ^^ such a cute concept and i ended up writing a lot more than expected haha— i just love the idea of idia going from strangers to acquaintances to friends to gaming buddies to c-word. idk i love writing idia sm,,,and the addition of ortho being the oblivious but supportive younger brother is the cherry on top sjfkjdsfk

#/trau replies #/anonnie #ortho my bb boy /p #idia my baby girl #love the shrouds #ortho shroud #idia shroud #idia shroud x reader #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader

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bunny-lily · 1 month

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Lift a Pen and Rewrite the Ending

Fluff for our broken fluffed-out hearts Dedicated to @bunny584 because ow. I promised fluff, so I’m delivering fluff

Pairing: Satoru x piano teacher!fem!reader

CW: just some fluff, man. We all need some happy, sappy moments in our lives with our beloved dumbass boy.

You taught piano. Plain, simple, easy. At least, you thought so, before meeting an enigmatic man as your newest student. He played a little too well for a beginner, and seemed a little too familiar.

AN: I chose to post this on my side acc since this one was technically made for the exact purpose of writing JJK fics (same with the Ao3 acc (milk_bunny/chimeric-dreams for that one)). So, cheers to the first fic on this blog!

This was honestly scribbled down in a single sitting between 1-5 am. Please don’t judge any mistakes too harshly, I wanted to post it ASAP and not subject it to my endless course of corrections and re-writing.

This is also very short (lmao 6.7k words) for how my work is normally. Again, I just wanted to get it out as fast as I could ;w;

Music sheets laid scattered around you, annotated in messy scribbles in various colors, fonts, and sizes. A scratched out row of bars here, corrected or adjusted notes there, mindless rambles stuffed into the margins as you tried desperately to figure out which key to put your song into so that it matched the exact tone you were going for.

Not like you were some well renowned artist whose career rode on your sole ability to create magical orchestrations. No, you had barely any presence at all. The videos of your songs you posted on YouTube barely scratched a couple hundred viewers at most, with the occasional comment from a bot or scammer getting your hopes up, only for them to go crashing back down.

No, you weren’t some notable figure in the music industry, you were just a white-collar worker that taught piano from your tiny home part-time.

It suited you, you supposed, as bitter as you could feel at times. You were just a normie, a casual passerby who liked having your fingers spring and jump across the keys of your piano. It was one you inherited from your grandmother. She was the one that taught you how to play when you were little, while your parents were busy working and couldn’t sit and entertain you all day like she could.

She taught you some essentials, too, like how to tune the piano – ‘It’ll save you big bucks, bunny,’ she insisted – and how to detect even the slightest issue it might have. She was correct about it saving you big bucks.

As shabby as the thing looked, with peeling white paint and floral designs chipping off the sides, the cover scraped to hell and back, and the brassy pedals having long lost their glossy sheen, it was in perfect shape.

In your expert opinion, anyway. You were biased, so what? You had every right to be.

Granny had left the world a while ago, her ashes situated on the short mantel of your tiny fireplace. You lit the candles every day, rested two softly smoking incense sticks on the shallow bowl to catch their ashes, and gave her a swift good-morning before you raced out your door, inevitably arriving at work with only minutes to spare.

In the evenings, you’d teach, then ramble to her about your day, wish her a loving goodnight, and go pass the fuck out. Rinse and repeat, except weekends, where you were teaching all day.

It was tiring, working two jobs like this, especially when some of the kids you taught were insufferable, but music was your passion. At the end of the day, you viewed it as worth every minute spent doing something you loved.

You liked to think she would have been proud of you.

A light tapping sound, a knuckle rapping against the wood of your open front door, caught your attention. It was a warm day, one that was too good to spend with the doors and windows closed. Natural light flooded in, casting the figure standing at the entrance in a brilliant glow that hid their features from you.

You glanced at the clock on the wall to your left, then leapt up from the floor in front of your coffee table, hurriedly and messily stuffing your music sheets into a folder. “Oh, shoot, sorry! I didn’t see the time, I’m so sorry about that. Are you the two o’clock?”

Today was a surprisingly free day for you. You only had one appointment, with a new student, if you remembered correctly. You must have gotten so ingrained in your rapid-fire notations that you lost track of time.

While you weren’t expecting an adult, since the email sounded like it was from a teenager, it wasn’t uncommon. You had students of all varying ages, anyways. It was a nice change, too; you found that adults tended to listen better than children.

A smooth laugh greeted your ears, the sound impossibly pleasant to your ears. “It’s fine,” the man said as he stepped into your home, breaking from the prison of light holding him. His stark-white hair caught you off guard first, followed by his height, and then the round shades resting low on the bridge of his nose. “That’s me.”

Eyes as blue as the most vivid summer sky peered straight through yours and into your soul, his hues almost appearing to shine in the tranquil environment of your living room, without the help of the overhead lamp you had turned off. His lips curled into a sparkling grin, giving him this sort of youthful luminance that had your heart skipping beats.

You swallowed and looked away before his gleaming smile blinded you, striding over to your piano, using it as an excuse to busy yourself and avoid eye contact with him before he made you stop breathing just by fluttering his lashes.

“Come on in,” you responded stiffly, clearing your throat to ease off the tenseness in your muscles. Why were you getting so worked up over him? Sure, he was pretty, but you’d barely spoken two sentences to him. How had he managed to get you in such a tizzy so easily, where your tongue felt tied and your pulse raced in your wrists? “How much do you know about piano?”

“Uhh,” he set down his briefcase against the wall beside your door, slipped off his shoes, and met you next to the instrument. “I know a bit.”

“Alright,” you nodded and patted the bench, then paused to think if it would be too high for him. “Do you need me to get a different stool?”

He shook his head, sliding into the seat like it was second nature to him. “Nope, this is just fine.”

“Great,” you smiled at him and tucked your skirt under your hands as you sat down on the other end. “Let’s get started, then! Are you familiar with the different notes?”

His hands took place over the keys and he slowly pressed each one down as he labeled them. “C, D, E, F, G, A, B, C.”

“Excellent, that’s awesome! You’re already a few steps ahead of other beginners,” you nodded approvingly and retrieved the thin booklet you had laid on top of the piano. You opened it and sifted through a few of the song options, picking out something a bit more intermediate for him.

It was still simple, but definitely more advanced than nursery rhymes. You found teens and adults had a more enjoyable time learning when they didn’t feel like they were being patronized. Teens especially, fickle little creatures, those ones.

“Let’s start with this one, then,” you said as you set it against the ledge in front of him. “It’s pretty easy, I think you’ll pick it up quickly.”

The song consisted of quarter-note half steps that ignored the sharp and flat keys for now. You had placed a piece of tape over the tempo indicator, finding that it put your students under too much pressure and made them stumble in their rush to follow the pacing they thought was right when they didn’t know what tempo was to begin with.

The man took a few seconds to study the sheet, then placed his fingers on the corresponding keys and began playing.

He was a bit slow, holding some notes too long and others not long enough, but you were correct in thinking he’d get the hang of it fast. After a few runs, he was playing it decently well, and confidently, too.

“Perfect! I knew you’d get it like that,” you snapped your fingers, then picked up the booklet again, flipping the pages in search of something a little more challenging. You probably wouldn’t find it in a kiddie book like this one, so you placed it down and got up, grabbing a more advanced one from the side table nearby. “What got you wanting to learn how to play piano?”

“Ah,” he scratched the back of his head. “My dad always wanted me to learn as a kid. I finally caved in, if only to make him stop yapping in my ear during family dinners. I’m just twenty years late to the party.”

You burst into giggles as you returned to your place on the bench, placing the new song you had chosen out for him where the previous one had been. “Not the first time I’ve heard that. You’d be surprised how many later bloomers there are.”

He chuckled along with you. “Well, that’s a relief. Had me fearing I was the only fully grown student you’d see in your life.”

“Far from it,” you shook your head. “I teach a grandfather that wants to play for his grandson at his graduation next year. It’s never too late to learn.”

When you looked up at him, you found him already peering at you with those intensely cerulean irises, his sunglasses folded neatly into the collar of his shirt. You twitched, startled by his stare. He had you locked in his gaze, captivated as he observed you and you observed him.

You noticed with wonder and fascination that his lashes were as ashy white as the tresses on his head.

He really was beautiful. Those same lashes were long and soft, brushing his high cheeks whenever he blinked. His lips were plush and pink, seemingly always curled up into a permanent smile regardless of size. Life and boyish playfulness darted in those mesmerizing oases that refused to shake their hold on you, and you wouldn’t wish them to.

They were the breath of fresh air you never knew you were deprived of, the nectar of life that was water to your parched throat, the flickering mirage that came to life before your very being.

You felt drawn to him, inexplicably. There was something so…familiar about him, though you couldn’t pinpoint exactly what. Like you’d seen him before, across the metro platform, or walking into the store you were just leaving, or someone walking the opposite direction as you on the crosswalk.

Where have I seen you before?

You blinked yourself out of the illusion, your lips parting, closing, then parting again before you finally managed to find your voice. “I-I’m sorry. I forgot your name, could…could you remind me?”

“Ah,” he shook his head, forgiving your forgetfulness. “Just call me Satoru.”

Just Satoru? Is that really okay?

It doesn’t sound like a name I’ve heard before.

“Alright,” you agreed regardless. “Satoru it is. It’s a pleasure to meet you,” you murmured your own name in return, dipping your head down in a mini bow. You returned your attention to the music sheet, lightly tapping the back of his hand with your pointer finger. “Let’s continue, shall we?”

You noted how much bigger his hands were compared to yours. It was hard not to see it, your index finger would likely barely reach the topmost joint of his if you pressed your palms together.

Your hands tingled at the thought. You quickly shoved it aside, focusing on being a good instructor.

Satoru continued to surprise and impress you as he mastered the songs you chose for him after trying them out a few times. Each time he made a mistake, he listened attentively as you corrected it, laying your hands over his as you adjusted the positioning of his fingers.

“Your hands are so much bigger than mine,” you snickered. “I’m a bit jealous. It’s hard for me to reach those far keys sometimes.”

“Oh, yeah,” he grinned cockily, flashing you a sultry glance between chords. “They can reach some things very easily.”

Heat rose to your cheeks and you stuttered, whipping your head away and acting as if he hadn’t completely flustered you.

Truthfully, the session was only supposed to last an hour and a half, but when you looked up at the clock, you were shocked to see you were nearing an hour longer than expected. It didn’t feel like much time had passed at all, maybe thirty minutes at maximum. Had it really been that long?

You pushed yourself up, stretching your legs as you felt pins and needles spark up in them. “Seems I got distracted twice today. I’ve kept you for an hour longer than I intended, I’m sorry,” you laughed meekly. “Don’t worry, I won’t charge extra for that, that’s on me.”

“It’s no worry,” Satoru reassured you as he got to his feet as well, delicately closing your piano with a careful hand. “Are you sure, though? I don’t mind paying for it, I did take up your time.”

He made something warm form in your chest.

“It’s fine, I love teaching. It’s not my main job, anyway, don’t stress,” you brushed away his concern. “You’re a prodigy, y’know,” you told him as you walked him to the still open door. “It’s no wonder your dad wanted you to learn how to play. I’m sure he’s proud.”

He let out a chuckle that sounded maybe a little forced. “Yeah, hope so,” he responded as he eased his shoes back on and bent down to grab his briefcase. “You’re a great teacher.”

“Thank you,” you brushed your hair behind your ear, blushing. “Ah– when would you want to see me again? I-If you do, I mean.”

The odd firmness he had a moment ago melted away, once more replaced by that handsome smirk of his. “Same time next week? Ah, hang on, why don’t I get your number, just in case? I have a bit of an unpredictable schedule.”

“Oh, sure, no problem,” you assented, taking his phone after he unlocked it and passed it to you. “You don’t like using email?”

He shook his head, watching you punch in your number into a new contact, add your name, then hand it back. “Nah, texting is easier for me. I’ll message you later tonight, yeah?”

“Alright,” you acquiesced.

“Oh, right, how much do I owe you?”

You blinked a few times before recalling that it was technically a paid session, though it didn’t feel like that to you. You murmured out the cost, and he gave you an odd look for a brief second. He pulled out his wallet, counted out a few bills, and folded them in half neatly before passing them off to you.

“Thanks for the lesson,” he grinned and waved goodbye, promising to text you later as he headed down your walkway, turned the corner, and vanished from sight.

You closed the door with a quiet poompf, staring blankly at your piano as you tried to remember how to function again. You glanced down at the bundle of money in your hand when you thought it felt a little too thick, brow furrowing as you unfolded it and counted them and holy shit that’s way too fucking much–

You rushed out of your house, down the pathway to the sidewalk, and looked for him, though you knew it was futile. He was already gone.

You tried to think of how you were going to slip the excess money back into his pocket next time you saw him, but as soon as you were inside, you raced to the folder you left on your coffee table, practically ripping it apart as you pulled out all the papers, aggressively uncapped a pen, and got to writing at light speed.

That man, whoever he was, infected you with a painful shot of inspiration that you needed to get off your chest right then and there. Your hand flew across the pages, revising entire sections you had been stuck on for weeks in the blink of an eye. Messy verses were refined, the missing notes floated into place, and by the time the moon had risen high and the timid breeze had turned cold, you had finished your song.

You looked it over one last time, a disbelieving giggle escaping you. You finished it. You finished it. This damned piece had been giving you restless nights, a broken loop in your brain that kept skipping over the unwritten parts, but one session with Satoru had seemingly given you the one push you were missing all along.

Your phone buzzed.

You opened it and tapped on the messages icon to find a text from an unknown number.

Unknown, 9:17 PM

Hey! Sorry for texting so late. It’s Satoru.

Does next week still work for you, same time?

What divine timing on his end. Right as he entered your thoughts, he slid into your DMs.

Your fingers practically trembled with giddy excitement as you texted back instantly to confirm the time, uncaring of what kind of impression that was making on him. You were elated, feeling like you could deflate in peace at last. You gave a little victory cheer as you went about closing and locking all the windows and doors, pulling the curtains shut with so much energy, you questioned if you’d be able to sleep.

The answer was yes. After you had gotten all ready, having pampered yourself as a small reward for yourself, you fell onto your bed and passed out mere minutes later. For once, everything seemed to be going right.

––––•(-•ʚɞ•-)•––––

“How’d you learn how to play?” He asked one day as he sipped at the tea you prepared for him. He was right about his schedule being hectic at times, but he somehow managed to fit himself into having lessons with you a few times a week, rather than just the standard one.

It surprised you, but pleasantly so. He was eager to learn and improve, and you were more than happy to teach him. He made for fantastic company, too, and you found you enjoyed spending time chatting lazily with him just as much as you did instructing him.

“My grandma taught me,” you told him with a smile. “She passed away a while ago, but I like to think I’m keeping her legacy alive like this, by teaching others, and keeping that old lil’ piano alive.”

Satoru nodded in understanding. “You’re amazing at playing,” he complimented sweetly. “She did a great job.”

“Thank you,” you answered bashfully, hiding your blush behind your own mug of tea.

“What was she like, if you don’t mind me asking?”

His smile felt like the sun kissing the apples of your cheeks on a perfect spring day. Him wanting to know more about you had your heartbeat picking up in speed, chirping a new, happy melody like a canary.

You deliberated before replying. “She was a very shrewd woman, stern in her teaching, but very gentle at the same time. She was the kind of granny that snuck me pieces of candy when my parents weren’t looking. She let me stay up late playing the piano whenever I was staying at her place. I probably bugged my parents to let me stay there every weekend, just so I could play it and learn from her.”

“So you got into music young?”

You bobbed your head. “I fell in love the first time I heard her playing when I was a toddler. I had woken up from a nap one day, somehow escaped my crib, and crawled to the living room to watch her play for…man, I don’t even know how long. I was just…hypnotized.”

“She sounds like she was a maestro,” he snickered airily, though you knew he meant it.

You grinned widely, resting your chin on the curved cup of your palm. “She really was. I can show you some videos of her playing sometime, if you’d like to see,” you offered.

“I’d love to.”

––––•(-•ʚɞ•-)•––––

Satoru had been your student for a while now.

He zoomed through the intermediate pieces into the advanced-amateur category easily, though seemed to plateau around there. Despite this, he was a wonderful student, always trying to improve himself and his skill. You knew he had it in him, he was only missing a little something he needed to tip him to the next level.

At one point, you had joked that he must have been purposefully holding himself back just so he could keep studying under you.

He laughed, and said nothing more.

By now, he reached a point where he would come in with a pep in his step, claiming he had perfected a song he wanted to play for you before you started the session. You’d find yourself (politely) seated on your couch by him, and would watch with a fond expression you didn’t know was there as he treated your piano with a touch more tender than even your own.

And you’d listen. He’d choose some of the prettiest, albeit not complicated, arrangements to play for you, and you’d find yourself slipping into a state of blissful peace. All your thoughts would drift away, and you’d absorb yourself in the music he played.

A few sessions had been spent just like that, with him as your personal musician, and you couldn’t figure out why you felt so…happy.

You liked the emotion a lot, though, and found yourself looking forward to his every visit, anticipating the full body chills you’d get whenever he lulled you into that state of delighted serenity. You didn’t remember when you stopped charging him, and when you let him come in without knocking anymore.

You also didn’t remember when having tea after each session became tradition, but you were grateful for the joy he brought you with his presence alone.

In fact, you decided to get him a small gift as thanks. For what exactly? His company? Patience? Entertainment? Whatever it was didn’t matter. It wasn’t anything big, either. It was a record you stumbled across while visiting a thrift shop recently.

You picked it up for two reasons. First, he divulged he had a hobby of collecting old records. Second, he mentioned he had been searching for that specific record for a few years with no luck, saying it was the last one he needed to complete his collection from that particular brand. The moment you spotted it, you grabbed it and practically bolted to the cashier, uncaring of the price.

There was no way you were leaving it there for someone else to nab it before he could. It was the most reasonable option.

Which was why you were extra giddy to see him again.

You opened the door in the middle of him reaching for the handle, stunning him for a second. That bewilderment was quickly wiped away by an excited grin that surely matched your own.

“If I knew you’d be this enthusiastic to see me, I would have worn something better,” he quipped.

You snorted and waved your hand, stepping back so he could come in. “Am I not allowed to be happy to see my favorite student? You look good no matter what you’re wearing, anyway.”

“Favorite, eh?” He teased as he closed the door behind him, leaning down to give you a quick hug. “Now I really feel like I should have worn something fancy.”

“Oh, come on, it’s not that big of a deal,” you giggled, leading him to the piano.

“I dunno,” he hummed, a sly expression crossing his face. “Pretty big deal to hear that from my favorite teacher,” You rolled your eyes, smacking his chest weakly, to which he laughed openly. “Ready to get started, teach?”

What a gorgeous sound.

“Actually,” you said, “I got something for you. Wait here a moment, lemme go grab it.”

He raised a brow but didn’t raise any objections as he sat down and tugged his tie to loosen it a few inches, saying that he’d be right there.

You had to resist the urge to skip to your room to locate the record and retrieve it from the drawer you had safely stored it in. It was your sock drawer, actually. You wanted to keep it somewhere protected while it tarried for its new owner. You sang the melody of your newest song quietly as you picked it up, inspecting the album cover for any indication that it had been touched since you last put it in there.

Pristine. Obviously aged, but in flawless condition otherwise.

Sounds from your living room brought pause to your actions right as you closed the drawer after dumping all your socks back into it.

…Was that music?

Frowning, you picked up the record and crept towards the source of the noise. You recognized it instantly – it was the most notable piece written by the notorious Gojo Saichi. It was considered the most difficult composition created within the last century or so. You’d listened to it on repeat occasionally, attempted it dozens of times, though you always fell short before the second movement started, which came early on.

Was Satoru watching a video? No, the melody was too clear and full to sound like it was coming out of a phone speaker.

Then…

You froze in the entrance to the hallway, stuck in place as you watched Satoru play the oeuvre flawlessly. From where you were standing, at an angle, you could see his precise actions and motions. Every note came to him as naturally as air, each shift in tempo as easy as blinking, down to the fragile, silk-like contrast that made the instrument sound as if it was a weeping widow, sitting on a window sill as she descanted to the moon, alone.

His digits knew exactly where to go, when, how deeply to press, how to shift between fierce and floaty as if he was born to do exactly this.

As your eyes flickered from his hands to his face, you saw that his eyes were closed. He was doing what some musicians could only dream of ever achieving in their careers; he was uniting with the music, playing as one, letting it fill his heart, then pour out with every throb like the very blood in his veins.

The most complicated, difficult, astronomical concerto known to man in the modern age, and he was playing it like it was nothing.

Satoru must have sensed your burning gaping as his hues flickered open and his hands stilled over the keys. He looked over towards you, his mien morphing into something resembling embarrassment.

You staggered closer. “That…that’s…that piece was…written by Gojo Saichi…” You mumbled, barely able to get the words out. You set down the record onto the coffee table, already having forgotten about it.

You were flabbergasted, rattled as you came to a stop at the side of the piano. He…how could he have played that so well? Wasn’t he barely in the advanced category? That was…that was professional, grade A, genius level music he played.

“Yeah,” he grinned, and you would have believed his show of being sheepish if the gleam in his eyes didn’t give him away. “He’s my dad.”

You sluggishly dropped onto your spot on the bench, peering at the keys but seeing nothing as you unpacked the bombardment of information you witnessed.

“That’s…the– that’s the hardest piece…even I can’t…”

“I know,” he rubbed his nape. “He basically forced me to stay up day and night playing it until I got it right.”

“But…how?” You tilted your head, peering up at him from the corner of your eye.

Satoru shrugged like he hadn’t just dropped a fucking bombshell on you. “I asked him to teach me when I was a teen,” You heard him say. “I’m sorry for deceiving you,” he apologized, not sounding very sorry at all.

“I…” You labored to find the right words. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Honestly?” He asked. You nodded, and he let out a heavy sigh.

Instead of answering immediately, he stood up and pulled you to your feet as well, pulling you into the kitchen, where he filled your kettle with water and put it to heat up.

You desperately wanted to know what exactly was going on, but couldn’t find it in yourself to rush him. He went about methodically picking out both your mugs from your cupboard, tossing a bag of tea into both, grabbing the bowl of sugar on the counter, and setting it all down on the table while he waited for the kettle to whistle. He seemed lost in thought, while you had many and none at all at the same time.

You could only observe him as he picked his words carefully.

He finally began when the shrill noise of boiling water filled the room. “I don’t know if you remember – probably not, since you didn’t recognize me – but we actually did meet a while ago. I was a lot different back then,” he said as he poured the water into both mugs, afterwards placing it back on the stove and holding his hand sideways at roughly chest level. “Maybe this high, scrawny, kind of a douchebag,” he admitted with a chuckle.

You were still in shock over the whole situation. All you could do was silently urge him to continue by leaning closer, accepting the cup when he passed it to you. Heat spread through your fingertips, easing away the frosty feeling you didn’t notice set in.

“You were playing the piano in the music room at the school we went to together. It was…honestly, beautiful. I grew up with a famous pianist for a dad, but even he can’t make music sound as alluring and gentle as you can,” he continued, awkwardly holding his own mug. “So, when I saw you again a few months ago, I couldn’t believe it was you. I always wanted to ask you to play something for me when we were younger, but could never get the nerve to.”

As he spoke, the memories were beginning to filter in through the thick haze in your brain.

You were so focused on writing music and learning to be a great musician like your grandmother that you never really paid attention to your surroundings or the people around you if they weren’t your granny, parents, direct friends, or music teacher.

From what you did remember, Satoru was always a confident, cocky boy, shameless and loud. To hear he was…shy about asking you to play for him was hard to believe.

“So, I finally let my dad start teaching me,” he rambled on when you didn’t respond. “I’ve tried so many times to replicate the song you played, but I could never get it right. I know it’s probably a long shot, but you don’t happen to remember what song that was, do you?”

You thought back, scraping the dust off your highschool recollections. There was one piece you had hyperfocused on perfecting during the last year there, determined to play it exactly as your grandmother had.

You never did manage to master it.

You set down the tea you had only sipped at twice and walked past him into the living room, heading to your piano in a sort of trance. You slid onto the bench, and set your fingers on the keys. Muscle memory took over, the gentle tune coming to life in…how long had it been since you last played this?

You let the music flow through you, gave it access to your heart, allowed it to peer into the deepest parts of your soul, and simply followed the path it created.

“Was it this one?” You asked quietly.

When you looked up at him, his eyes were wide, lips parted as he stared at you with nothing less than amazement. “That– that’s the one. Which– what’s it called?”

“It’s a piece my grandma wrote for my parent’s wedding,” you answered. “She didn’t tell me what it’s called. I’m not sure if it has a name to begin with. She played it for me once, and I,” you huffed out a short, choked chuckle, “I became obsessed. I spent every day as a senior trying to get it right, to play it like she did, but…”

Your fingers slowed into a stop as you looked at them blankly, recalling your attempts, and the disappointment that followed each failure. You memorized it after playing it just twice, but it didn’t help you reach your goal in the end.

You startled when his hand rested lightly atop of yours, his body partially leaned over your shoulder so he could look you directly in the eye. This close, you felt his light breaths as they brushed your cheek. You could see the exact shade and hue of the teal composing his striking irises, match the exact pace of his heartbeat to a song, hear him swallow nervously.

“Keep playing,” he pleaded, sounding almost desperate. “Please.”

You obliged. How could you say no to him when he looked at you like that? When he requested it so feebly in a trembling voice that was close to cracking? How could you say no when you saw and felt first hand how his body relaxed when you filled the room with the lilting melody once again?

The music hopped and glided, playful in some parts, somber and tranquil in others. He stayed right where he was, the heat of his stomach resting against your upper back, thawing the tension in your shoulders as his hands held them gently, thumbs rubbing circles into your tight trapezius.

In every way, the song reminded you of your grandma, of your parents, of your childhood spent trying to reach a point where you were truly happy with how you played each note.

But, if that was the case…

How come you saw Satoru’s eyes when you closed yours and listened to your own hands dance across the keys?

Why did his smile, his laugh, his touch, his voice, his everything, come to mind when you picked apart every stanza and bar? If you put together all the notes a specific way and decoded them, you swore they’d spell his name.

Your hands drifted and halted as you reached the end of the song.

Or, rather, the end of the song as you knew it.

There was a brief pause, then he mumbled, barely above a hum, “is that it?”

“Grandma never showed me how it ended,” you told him morosely. “She said she’d tell me ‘when the time is right’, but…she died before she could.”

He sat beside you and took your right hand into his. His fingers massaged meaningless shapes into the creases of your palm and the smooth plane of the dorsum. Neither of you dared break the silence, mulling in your own worlds.

Satoru was the one to cautiously cross the line of quiet, doing his best to not disturb it. He wrapped his left arm around your back, pulling you into his side while continuing to toy with your dainty digits.

“We’ll find it together,” he whispered.

––––•(-•ʚɞ•-)•––––

Truth be told, you never imagined you’d find yourself in this kind of place before – especially not in this position.

Your hand hovered over your brow, shading your eyes from the brilliant sun as it shined low in the sky, kissing the horizon. Though it was setting, the approaching night was warm as ever. A pleasant breeze ruffled the fabric of your dress and caught the strands of your hair that managed to slip loose from the style your mother put them in.

Stars were already beginning to dot the expanse above, glittering and so, so crystalline when you were this far outside the city. You never thought you’d get to see them so clearly, enough to point out individual constellations, and even identify Jupiter and Venus.

You never had a reason to leave the bounds of the city before, so all this was a distant dream you might have had once when you were a teenager.

But here you were, outside a lovely villa, surrounded by friends, family, and loved ones, miles away from where light pollution would dare to touch. The buzzing, lively chatter of dozens of guests filled the air; the clinks of glasses, the clacks of forks and knives on plates, all of it was so animated. You felt like you were in a sort of daze, overwhelmed with happiness to the point that it almost didn’t feel real.

A pair of soft lips pressed against your temple, drawing your attention to radiant, minty-ocean hues.

Satoru gazed at you with nothing short of pure, raw, true adoration. Like every fiber in his body, each and every singular cell, was dedicated to loving you.

“I have one more present left for you,” he murmured against your lips, giving you a chaste kiss right after before he stood up and raised his glass. He tapped the back of his knife gently on the side, creating a chiming noise that settled the ongoing conversations with ease.

Once all the attention was on him, he set both objects down and began speaking.

“I know we’ve already said it a lot, but I wanted to thank you all again for coming here to celebrate this day with us,” he said, turning his gaze to you. “This is truly the happiest day of my life – so far,” he added cheekily, earning him a laugh from the crowd. “So, before all the festivities end tonight, I wanted to do one last thing, if you’d all be so kind as to grant me this moment.”

Of course they would. Satoru was just that type of person. Charisma poured off him in waterfalls, charming anyone he spoke to without effort – you included.

He pushed back his chair, moving to leave. Confused, you grasped his arm and called his name.

There was a glint of something in his eyes, something you couldn’t identify, not with the light tingle of wine sitting in the back of your mind and the overstimulation of the grand day.

“Just listen, baby,” he whispered to you, then he was weaving through the guests, snaking his way to the grand piano situated off to the side of where everyone was situated. “This is a little song I heard many, many years ago, and fell in love with from the first few notes. I’d like to dedicate it to my mother-in-law, father-in-law, their late mother, and I would like to especially dedicate it to my lovely wife.”

Your mother gasped, grabbing your arm as soon as Satoru began playing the familiar melody of the song you had been taught ages in the past. It was the one your grandmother played for you, just once. It was the one she played for your mother and father for their wedding. It was the one you played for Satoru, once unknowingly, and every time after that intentionally.

The one he was playing for you now.

Your mother teared up faster than you did, reaching for a clean napkin to dab her eyes with while she waved her free hand at her face, trying to stave off the tears so that they didn’t smear her mascara, though she wasn’t succeeding. Your father was gently shushing her, rubbing her shoulder while he looked between you and Satoru with pride, and you…

You recalled the first time you heard him play the composition his father had written, when you still believed he was just an advanced player. Back then, you felt entranced.

Now, you felt completely spellbound.

You lifted yourself, carefully making your way between the enchanted spectators. A couple clutched and squeezed your hand as you passed, and a few others breathed out little congratulations to you, not risking breaking the delicate atmosphere.

By the time you made it to him, your vision was blurry, and he was playing the last line of bars.

The arrangement floated into the placid, halcyon evening, each individual note rising like a star to join the thousands that looked on with bated breath, protecting this little moment of clement apotheosis.

His hands swept across the final few steps, barely touching the keys at all. The concluding tone resounded, fragile and silk-like, followed by a second of calm silence before the crowd erupted with cheers, hoots, and deafening applause.

Satoru rose from the bench, encircling your waist with his arms and pulling you in for a deep kiss. It echoed in you, the sweetest lullaby, the happiest composition that could never be written down identically. It was one only the two of you could hear and feel, one only the two of you could dance, live, cry, laugh, breathe, and love to.

Of all the endings you ever tried to give that precious song your grandmother had written so long ago, the one Satoru created was perfect.

Because you created it together.

––––•(-•ʚɞ•-)•–––– Banner made by cafekitsune ♥ gotta figure out how to make my own

#jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jjk x you #gojo x reader #satoru x reader #fem reader #I'm going light on the tags fn #is this considered light lmao #fluff #jjk fluff

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writingseaslugs · 2 years

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Idia Shroud x Reader: Thighs (NSFW)

Hi, this is super self-indulgent smut. It's been on my mind for like a week straight now and I got the motivation to write it finally after reading a fic by @treysimp which you should totally check out btw it's the couch series with Idia and the NSFW continuation is everything I need to breathe.

This features a reader with no pronouns and anatomy isn't ever discussed for them!

Part 02

Word Count: 2,759

Idia Shroud x Reader: Thighs

Warning: This is NSFW so if you’re under the legal age or uncomfortable with content like this, please skip over this one!

It had taken, in all honesty, months to get Idia more comfortable around you. He had issues with confidence, but also issued when it came to any social situation. Physical intimacy in itself was a foreign concept to him, you were pretty damn sure. It all started off slow, grazing your shoulder against his when you guys were gaming together, putting your hand on his shoulder, and eventually sitting shoulder to shoulder with him.

Just those small things made him burn up and flinch at first, but now he was calm. Things like hugging took longer, always starting out with your hand barely touching his linking arms, then finally a side hug. Kissing? Boy that in itself was a beast.

Finally though, after months, Idia was finally getting used to the fact that you wanted to touch him, kiss him, and over all just be with him. He never thought he’d ever actually get a significant other in his lifetime, but here you were.

Now you sat on his lap, watching him game while also scrolling through your phone and liking random memes. You’d occasionally get his attention when the game wasn’t at some serious point to show him some. You laughed at a particular funny meme, clicking the like button and feeling Idia shifting under you to get a better look.

“That’s so cringe.” Idia commented with a grimace and you raised an eyebrow while looking at him.

“So, you’re cringe and I still like you.” You pointed out, making him pout. He opened his mouth to say something before noticing you were giggling, “I’m sorry that was kinda mean.” You cooed, trying to cool off your boyfriend.

“Ya it was, and if I’m cringe what does that make you?” He said, adjusting you in his lap while he unpaused his game.

“A cringe lord, obviously. Master of the Cringe…ruler of the cringe-topia, the cringiest of cringe.” You began listing off before he groaned, moving his head into the crook of your neck as he clearly was being dramatic.

“You can s-stop now, you know.” He muttered and you chuckled again before you went back to scrolling through your phone.

In between the memes, you’d occasionally run into some random couple photo that you knew would make Idia groan and call them ‘Normies’ if he bothered to look. You couldn’t help but like them though, imagining you and Idia in those situations. You wished he’d let you snap a photo of the two of you during one of his gaming sessions. To you, it looked like the perfect gamer couple scenario, and the blue lighting of the room was picturesque.

Just as you were thinking this, you came across a mini video. It had a guy playing video games and his girlfriend trying to get his attention, before finally sitting on his lap with their chest to them and kissing the breath right of his lungs. The thought made you flush. It’s not like Idia wasn’t paying attention to you, you guys had made an agreement today to spend the day together just doing your own thing. Him just letting you sit on his lap was already more than enough.

Still, the thought of kissing him breathlessly was enticing. You two had never gone further than heavy makeout sessions, and while that was fine you were craving something more. Kissing him while you sat on his lap might be a good leeway into those things. Still, you always respected Idia’s boundaries and always asked before doing anything that might make him uncomfortable.

“Idia?” You asked, getting his attention. The video game he was playing was some open world RPG and his character was in town buying supplies, so it was the perfect time for him to save and put the controller down. Still, he continued gaming, simply humming in response to let you know he heard you, “Wanna make out?”

Idia froze and you could see the tips of his blue hair turning pink, and you knew if you looked behind you his face would have the same pink dusting across his cheeks. “I-w you want to what?” Idia said, almost shrieking right in your ear.

“I mean…we’ve done it before. And I really wanna do it right now. That cool with you, or nah?” You asked, fully willing to drop the subject at the slightest hint of resistance.

“I-I mean I wouldn’t mind but…” He trailed off and you finally turned to look at him. You waited patiently for him to say anything else and he took in a shark breath. “Y-you’re on my lap though…” You seemed to catch his drift pretty fast.

It was no secret that every time you guys had a particularly steamy makeout session, he’d excuse himself right after and angle his body just right so you couldn’t see what he was working with. Disappearing to the bathroom and coming back like nothing happened, but definitely not being able to make eye contact with you afterwards.

“So what? If you get excited I’m down to help if you want. Or I can get up and let you take care of things yourself. I don’t mind.” You were pretty sure your words made Idia short circuit for a moment as he dropped his controller and it fell to the ground.

“I you…wait does that mean?” Idia said, covering his face with his hands, too mortified to think straight. He thought he wasn't suspicious at all, but apparently it had been clear as day that whenever you made out it made him harder than a rock and he had to leave before you noticed.

“Idia, seriously it’s fine. It’s a compliment, really. Besides, you should see the state you leave me in.” You joked and he looked at you from the cracks of his finger.

“I uh…put you in a state?” He managed to murmur out and you did your best not to chuckle at how innocent his voice seemed right now.

“Hot and bothered, every time without fail.” You put it bluntly and he squealed, covering his eyes again but you could see the corners of his mouth trying to go into a smile. “So, can I kiss you or nah? All up to you, pretty boy.” You said, trying to calm him down.

“I…okay…” He finally murmured, moving his hands away from his face. You couldn’t help but smile as his hands wrapped around your waist and tugged you closer to his chest. You angled yourself just enough to capture his lips, your mouth clashing with his chapped lips.

You hummed happily at the taste of energy drinks and some chocolate snack you guys had shared earlier that day. The warm, fuzzy feeling that always overwhelmed your senses made you hum happily against his lips. He returned the kiss tentatively, his breath hitching as he tasted you. He groaned into the kiss, feeling how your teeth nibbled slightly on his bottom lip.

Idia nervously opened his mouth enough for your tongue to explore; you loved every minute as one of your hands came up and ran through his hair, clutching it a bit closer so he wouldn’t just pull away. It was all a bit messy as Idia slowly grew more confident in your lips moving against him and you whimpered into his mouth as he began taking control of the kiss.

You could feel him underneath you, slowly getting harder and you couldn’t help but be cheeky and grind your ass against his crotch. This earned a gasp from him, his clammy hands clutching your waist tighter as he separated from the kiss, a small string of saliva still connecting you two.

His length was poking you through his sweatpants and you knew it had to be uncomfortable. Idia’s breath was labored as he looked at you with hazy eyes. “You uh…you said you wouldn’t mind helping me…?” Idia finally said, his voice dipping down a bit lower than normal, sending a shiver down your spine.

“Ya…however you’d like. My hands, mouth, or body. Your choice, Idia.” You said, leaning in to kiss his jaw, since it was all you could reach at this angle. Your back was still firmly pressed against his chest, and as much as you wanted to shift to face him, you knew he was more comfortable like this.

“I…you can see…I don’t know if I can…” He kept murmuring, not knowing how to articulate his words properly. You smiled as your hand played with the hair at the nape of his neck.

“You don’t feel comfortable with me seeing your body, is that it?” You asked and he nodded, looking anywhere but your eyes, “Do you feel comfortable seeing mine?” You asked, getting an idea.

“I…wouldn't mind but if I see all of you, it might be too much to handle…” He bit down on his lower lip, a bad habit of his whenever he got nervous.

“Do you have any lube at your desk?” You asked, knowing damn well he’s watched hentai at his desk before. He froze up before putting his head into the crook of your neck and murmuring out a yes. He squeezed your waist again, making you smile at how adorable he was being. “Where is it Idia?” You asked and he took one shaky hand and pointed at the drawer.

You leaned forward, making Idia gasp as you shifted against him, and opened the drawer. It wasn't hard to find the half full bottle of lube sitting in there, and you grabbed it happily. You put it in front of you before moving to your pants and unbuttoning them. Idia seemed to scramble, not knowing what you were doing.

You chuckled at him as he began stuttering out a sentence, but stopped as he saw your thighs coming into view as you pushed off just your pants. Your underwear still remained and it was slightly obscured by your school shirt. You went and pulled off your tie, then unbuttoned the first three buttons of your shirt so if he wanted to he could peek inside your shirt.

“How about this, Idia.” You began, pulling his attention away from your plush looking thighs and back to your face. “I’ll wrap my tie around my eyes so I can’t see anything, and you can fuck my thighs with some of the lube. I won’t be able to see anything then, and you’ll be in control of everything that’s happening. This way I can still help you.”

“I…” Idia’s face was scarlet at this point as he processed what you said. You were going to let a filthy shut-in like himself fuck your thighs at his desk chair? This wasn’t really happening; it was too good to be true. “Are you sure?” He finally managed and you nodded.

“Super sure, now do you wanna or?” You asked and he nodded his head frantically, “Cool…want me to spread the lube on my thighs or will you do that when you’re ready?”

Idia didn’t know how to respond as he bit his lip again and averted your eyes. You chuckled as you grabbed the lube and poured some on a hand. You spread your legs a bit, spreading the lube where you thought he’d probably be using you, before wiping the excess off on Idia’s sweats. He went to protest, but realized he’d probably be making a mess of your underwear anyway.

You then went and wrapped your tie around your eyes and made sure it was snug and couldn’t see anything. Idia watched and decided to show two fingers in front of you to see if you’d say anything. You didn’t, just sat patiently for him to make a move. Once Idia was sure you couldn’t see, he felt a little more confident.

He shifted you on his lap as he worked on pulling down his sweats and underwear. You helped by hovering while he pushed them down to his ankles and slowly guided you back onto his lap. You could feel his hot length rubbing between your thighs, making you gasp in surprise.

“I s-sorry was I not supposed to…?” Idia felt a moment of panic before you quickly quelled it.

“N-no you’re fine. You just feel bigger than I thought, is all.” You admitted and he could see your face growing a bit hot. It filled him with a sense of pride, realizing that he was going beyond your expectations. Still, the thought of you seeing him was too much to bear right now. He’d just use your thighs, just like you said he could.

He moved your thighs to close around his cock and it was his time to gasp, feeling how warm and slick they were. The soft skin wrapping around his length almost made him cum right then and there. He hissed as he slowly lifted your thighs and slammed them back down onto his lap. He couldn’t help the broken moan that escaped him at the sensation.

Your thighs were just right and you yourself were biting down moans as he slowly began moving your thighs up and down his cock. Occasionally he would thrust his hips up to meet your thighs and you couldn’t help the whimper. The thoughts of his cock now being between just your thighs but inside of you was driving you wild and you knew your underwear probably was getting a wet patch on them from your arousal.

Idia’s nails dug into the skin of your thighs, possibly leaving marks and maybe even breaking skin, but you couldn’t really tell. All you knew was your heart rate speeding up and the sensation of Idia’s labored breath fanning across your neck in between his moans.

“F-feel so good, Idia.” You encouraged him, noticing how his cock twitched in between your thighs and you swore you felt a glob of precum splatter on your thigh, “So good for me.” You murmur lovingly. He groaned as he moved one hand to your face and forced you to turn your head.

His lips crashed into your own in a heated and sloppy makeout session, leaving you dizzy with sensations. His hand left your face and went back to your thigh, but you kept your mouth there, accepting every hungry kiss of his. You were on cloud nine and just from that alone you felt like you could cum yourself.

All too soon for your liking, Idia’s breath and hips stuttered and you felt him groan into your mouth as his cum painted your thighs white. You shivered at the feeling of how hot it was and he parted from your lips, panting against them as he came down.

“I…thank you.” Idia finally said, not knowing what else to do. You chuckled as you pointed at your lips, wanting another kiss but not wanting to miss him. He leaned in, giving a chaste kiss as he lifted you off him and tugged his pants back on. “You can uh, take off the blindfold now.” He said, giving you the green light.

You untied the back and then turned to Idia, looking at his flush his cheeks were and his half lidded eyes. He had a nervous grin on his face as he took you in. You stood up fully and looked down at your thighs, admiring the white streaks on them. Idia covered his mouth, looking away.

“S-sorry, I’ll clean you up. I uh don’t think I got it on your shirt or underwear…” He paused as he looked over at you. You couldn’t help but be cheeky, running a finger over some of the cum and then popping in into your mouth. You let out a theatrical moan at the taste of him. It wasn’t exactly the best, but like hell you’d ever ruin that slight confidence of his.

Idia was cherry red as he watched you suck your finger, basically just eating his cum, “I hope next time I can get it right from the source, huh Idia?” You said suggestively and he covered his mouth with his hand.

“Y-you’re gonna kill me one of these days.” Idia finally murmured and you just laughed and shook your head.

“Well come on, you were planning on being a gentleman and cleaning me off right?” You asked, holding out your clean hand for him to take. Idia got up slowly and began dragging you to his bathroom to clean up any evidence of what you two did, and hopefully get over his embarrassment.

Should I make a continuation? Because I totally have an idea and would write an AFAB and AMAB version. Decisions, decisions...

#idia fic #idia shroud #idia shroud x reader #twst x reader #twst idia #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader

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welcome-to-tracy · 1 year

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Obey Me Headcanons. MC jokingly says: «Spank me, please».

GN!Reader. All brothers.

TW: suggestive? a little smut with Belphegor. 😳

A/N: at first I wanted MC to slap one of the brothers on the ass, but then I changed my mind.

Hint: MC and the character are not in a relationship. So when they asks to be spanked, they is just joking, but in fact it is frankly clear that they would really like it.

all subsequent actions take place with MC consent.

Lucifer:

— You're talking to Lucifer in his room when he asks how you're doing at RAD.

— «I know that you have already settled into the Devildom enough, but if you need help with your studies or you would like something specific, you just need to ask».

— The moment seems to you ideal for a light joke, because Lucifer is obviously not tense and this is just a friendly conversation.

— «Something I want? Then... How about you spank me, please?»

— You can see how Lucifer's eyebrows are raised questioningly, trying to evaluate what you just said.

— In fact, you blurted out the first thing that came to your mind and now, understanding the meaning of these words, you blush deeply and immediately add: «Of course this is a joke!»

— When Lucifer sees you blush, on his face a proud grin appears.

— «Joke? Really? Didn't I just say that you just have to ask if you need anything?», – he leans over your ear and quietly whispers: «What an interesting request. But if this is what you want, then I will do everything to make our exchange student comfortable».

Mammon:

— You were resting in your room when a message from Mammon flashed on your D.D.D. screen.

— «Not that I care at all, but I know that your birthday is coming soon, so (you should thank the Great Mammon) I'll condescend to present you something».

— Of course, a minute later he sent a message saying that it should not be too expensive and preferably with his own hands.

— Without hesitation, you tapped your fingers on the keyboard and sent a message that if the "Great Mammon" wants to do something for you with his own hands, then he may well spank you.

— «WHAT?! ARE YOU DELUSIONAL?».

— You could almost imagine Mammon's excited face, considering the speed with which a huge pile of messages were coming to you.

— You didn't even bother to clarify that it was just a joke, hoping that later he would understand it himself. And after a couple of hours, it completely slipped your mind.

— But then, a few days later, your birthday came.

— After receiving the gifts and finishing with the party that the guys threw in honor of you, you returned to your room.

— A few minutes later, Mammon (in the most brazen way) also barged into your room.

— «No. I'm not letting you sell MY gifts».

— «Even the one I gave you?!», – you looked accusingly at, – «Okay-okay! That's not what I was going to talk about at all! It's about the second gift. The one you asked for».

— The tips of Mammon's ears turned bright red and he cleared his throat.

— «That what you wrote about in the chat. If you still want it, then... Don't think, not that I was going to do it, but still now I, Mammon, am doing you a favor, so... I think it would be more convenient if you took a different pose and since I am infinitely generous to you, I will do it...».

Leviathan:

— You both played some old co-op game on the console, agreeing that the loser fulfills one wish of the winner.

— Maybe your fingers were trained well enough, or maybe you were just lucky, but this time the victory was yours!

— «NOOOOOOO. It's impossible for this normie to win. This is a scam!!»

— You shrugged your shoulders in response to Levi's whining and (stealthily) stuck out your tongue at him.

— «I won, which means you fulfill one of my wishes!~», – you reminded him of your contract and he instantly wilted.

— «It's not fair... Surely it will be something stupid...».

— «Okay, Levi. What do you think about spanking me?»

— You said it quickly and jokingly, just to see the reaction of the Avatar of Envy (lol, of course, you knew that he would squeal and be embarrassed, but you really wanted to tease him), but, lmao, it looks like you really broke this boy.

— Waving his arms and muttering something, he backed away, tripped over the wires, fell, appeared for a moment in the form of a demon and hid in the corner of the room.

— You don't know it (maybe you can guess), but right now he remembered all the possible hentai that started exactly the same.

— «Henry, you... You just can't say things like that! A similar situation occurred at the beginning of the seventh chapter of the first volume of „The Lamb-Girl: My indecisive lover”, but we live in the REAL world and if you ask someone for such things, then you should be prepared for the fact that it will end badly. A nasty otaku like me just shouldn't touch you like that, especially when our relationship hasn't reached that level yet, you just–».

— Most likely you stopped listening to him. Leviathan was in his demonic form, waving his tail and blushing terribly. On top of everything else, the guy was bleeding from his nose, but he did not stop his long tirade.

— (If you offer him a napkin, he'll faint, lol).

— To stop disturbing the wild imagination of the virgin-demon, you just went to your room, hoping that later he would calm down.

— A few hours later, Levi will definitely self-destruct, but he will also scroll through your proposal in his head and imagine his palm on your body.

Satan:

A/N: it turned out fine and a little crumpled, but okay, sorry. :(

— Well, maybe you're crazy or you just want to die, baby.

— Even with Lucifer, this thing could have been safer, but you chose Satan.

— You both fight when at some point you say something like: «Damn, if I'm that bad, then just spank me».

— Lol, you said the first thing that came to your mind, but now you're both in a stupor and blushing.

— «Spank you? Is this some kind of provocation?», – he raises his eyebrows, but before you can answer, Satan pulls you towards him.

— «Wait, it's...».

— «I think it was a good idea. Maybe I should really punish you so that you behave yourself next time?».

— He's definitely just scaring you, but if you agree, then Satan will really spank your ass.

Asmodeus:

— Okay, if not both of you, then at least Asmo is constantly joking about such things. Not that this is anything new.

— You put on the dress that the demon bought you as a gift and spun around on the spot so that he could appreciate how it fits on you.

— «It's just gorgeous, honey! As soon as I saw him, I immediately realized that you would look wonderful in something like this. You're amazing!~ ♡», – he claps his hands and smiles contentedly.

— «But isn't it too short?»

— «No, no! Just right! You look so lovely that I want to kiss you. Or spank», – Asmodeus puts his hands on your waist and seductively grins.

— You briefly say something like «can I choose both options?», deciding to play along with him. But you didn't expect he to go beyond the usual teasing this time.

— He gives you a short kiss near the lips and you blush with surprise. When Asmo sees your reaction, he smiles and his cheeks also turn a delicate pink shade.

— Overcoming the awkwardness, you quietly ask: «Well, the kiss has already been. How about the second option?».

Beelzebub:

— God, he has incredibly cute reactions to any teasing.

— If you suddenly tell this kid to spank you, I swear he'll choke on what he's chewing right now.

— You'll just watch a blush spread across Beel face as he realizes your request, but then he looks down and sighs.

— «I don't understand why you want me to do something like that. I don't want to hurt you».

— He's really afraid he might hurt you because you're so small and he's so big and strong. 🥺

— If you explain to him that this is just a joke, he will smile and say that he is glad because he would not like to hit you.

— If you continue your joke and start explaining to Beelzebub that it might even be nice, then he will nod seriously and begin to finish his meal.

— After that, he'll shoulder you wherever you are and carry you to your room, because he doesn't mind if that's what you want. :>

— (When Beel start spank you, he will be a little scared that he may not calculate the strength, but then he will even get a taste and on your ass there will definitely be traces of his huge palms).

Belphegor:

— Just wanting to annoy Belphegor a little, you woke him up and decided that it would be nice to tease the Avatar of Laziness a little.

— Every now and then, absolutely jokingly, you put your hand on his thigh or whispered ambiguous phrases in his ear while he sighed irritably.

— His displeased expression seemed so funny and cute to you that you could hardly restrain yourself.

— «You're being disgusting, you know?».

— «Really? Well then take it and spank me».

— «Your jokes are so tiring. Don't think I'm going to fall for that», – he yawned significantly and you puffed out your cheeks.

— «Well, if you refuse, then I'll go», – of course you were bluffing. You of both were not in such a relationship and it would be strange to suggest something like that, but... you were so turned on by his quiet, irritated growl.

— Oh, it looks like you've awakened something bad in him.

— You get out of bed and wink at him, intending to leave, but Belphegor grabs your wrist and pulls you to him so that you fall on your stomach on his lap.

— You flinch when one of his hands gets under your t-shirt and lies on your lower back.

— «It was so audacious. If you woke me up, then why don't I listen to you, especially since it sounds fun», – you hear his soft teasing voice and a quiet malicious grin.

— With his other hand, Belphie lightly slaps you on the ass and briefly holds his palm on your buttock, squeezing it through the fabric of your clothes.

— You feel him tense up a little under you, and then the next ringing slap is heard, much stronger than the past.

— You let out a low moan and he runs his index finger along the inside of your thigh.

— «How depraved... If you wanted me, you should have said so earlier. And now take responsibility for your actions, because now I don't want to sleep at all...».

— There is another slap.

A/N: AHHAHA, idk what I wrote! Sorry about this crap. I did it for a very long time and sat with the dictionary, lololol. 😭

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