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cerise-on-top · 4 hours

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what if the 141 boys had a ridiculously tall husband. like. a little bit taller than konig, probably. and he's really scary to people, actually!!!! but not his s/o , nuh uh, he's disgustingly sweet to his beloved.. sorry i'm rambling, i think (jokes and idiocy aside i adore your headcanons <3)

Hey there! Thank you, that's very kind of you! Also thank you for sending in a request for a male reader, you're one of the first ones and I was very excited to write about a male reader for once :D

TF141 With A Very Tall Husband

Price: He didn’t really think he’d ever be dating someone much, much taller than him. Sure, he doesn’t particularly mind, but he’s not short either, with him standing at 1,88m himself. It makes him feel small at times, especially if you’re pretty muscular too. He doesn’t get insecure about it in the slightest, oh no, but it’s weird to be so much shorter than your loved ones. However, he’s pretty used to scary people by now. Ghost isn’t exactly a delight to have around at first when you don’t know him either, so he knows how to deal with scary people. Might ask you to tone it down a little bit when you’re scaring other people too much, he doesn’t particularly wanna attract attention like that. But you being a sweetheart towards him? It melts his heart. He knows what you’re like towards people that aren’t him, so it makes him smile that you’re willing to do just about anything for him just to spend some time with him. You wanna trim his beard? There’s a good chance you’ve got some experience with that anyway, so he really doesn’t mind it as much. Hell, he probably trusts you more than his own barber at times. Besides, it’s a nice little bonding activity. If you have a beard then he’ll offer to trim it for you as well. Price isn’t really opposed to being the little spoon, or just being held in general. Quite the opposite, you being this tall sometimes puts him in a cuddly mood where he just plops down into your arms. Gently scratch his scalp and there’s a good chance he’ll even fall asleep on you. He’s so used to being everyone’s protector, it feels nice to be protected for once. But he won’t always settle for being held either, it’s his job to make you feel safe and sound as well, and thus he will take on the role of cuddler as well. Will fight you for that role, actually. Price is a real sweetheart towards his loved ones as well, so I think the two of you would fit well together. His mere presence demands respect in the right people, which can sometimes scare others. So, from time to time, you might both scare other people together. Sometimes intentionally, sometimes unintentionally.

Gaz: He makes so many jokes about you being this tall and feigns being hurt about being much shorter than you are. You’re his behemoth, his leviathan and his ziz. Loves calling you the names of monsters that are said to be pretty big, it’s endearing to him. Besides, you’re scary enough that some people call you a monster anyway, if just for your height. If anyone ever were to call you that in front of Gaz, then they’ll end up with a black eye. No one gets to call you a monster but him. While he won’t always approve of you scaring everyone, Gaz does have a few friends that he wants you to get along with, he won’t particularly do anything about it either if that’s just what you’re like. Might try to make you seem a bit less scary by being a bit more affectionate with you in public. Holding your hand, giving you a peck on the cheek, giving you a hug. Those kinds of things. He actually loves you being this tall since that means you can pick him up and spin him around. He’s not been picked up ever since he was a little boy, so he definitely wouldn’t mind you showing off to him just how strong you are. Is also always looking for an excuse to hold your hand. Oh, seems like he forgot just how big your hand actually is and how much it engulfs his. Remind him for a moment and hold his hand, will you? Gaz is a sweetheart towards his loved ones anyway, if you look past the fact he will sass anyone to show his affection, so he loves that you’re so sweet towards him. Though, sometimes he wishes you were about the same height so you could actually share each other’s wardrobe. But hey, at least he gets to wear your extremely oversized shirts and hoodies, one of his favorite things to do. Another thing he also adores is just sitting in your lap when you’re home together and will also place your hands so that you’re holding him in your arms. If you’ve got really warm hands then he’ll place them atop his thighs to keep himself warm. Gaz isn’t the warmest person out there, but that just means you get to warm him up yourself. Is actually a lot cuddlier because you’re this tall and will become your personal blanket.

Ghost: He feels kind of perplexed about you being so much taller than him. Ghost is 1,95m, he towers over pretty much anyone, so how dare you be so much taller than him. Pretends to hate you being this tall, actually loves it. Sometimes he dreams of sparring with you under the moonlight to assert his dominance, even though there’s really no need to since you’re such a sweetheart towards him. He probably just needs to ask and would get anything from you. He really doesn’t mind you scaring pretty much everyone off, he has the same effect on people he doesn’t know. That just means there’s less people to worry about in his life for the time being. You’ll be spending a lot of time alone with each other that way, which he really likes. Though, maybe don’t scare his teammates too much, he genuinely likes them and wants them to be well too. Though, it’s kind of hard to properly scare them anyway. Ghost is usually a pretty quiet man when there’s no need for chit chat, but he doesn’t mind hearing your voice. In fact, he might get worried if you suddenly stop talking and will ask you what’s wrong. If you’ve got nothing to talk about then he’ll ask some questions so he can continue hearing your voice. He also blushes from time to time when you suddenly give him some sugary sweet compliments. He’s a grown, scary military man, he really shouldn’t be, but it’s just so endearing, especially when you, even bigger and scarier, call him your little honey bunny. It actually motivates him to do house chores. Not that he won’t do them anyway, but you calling him embarrassingly domestic names makes him just a tad bit soft, which leads to him trying to be a good husband. You may cuddle him since he trusts you, but he will also want to hold you from time to time. Life is a constant give and take, so prepare to be cuddled. Won’t particularly ask for cuddles, though, since he’s kind of too embarrassed to admit he’s touch starved. To you it’s blatantly obvious, though, which is why you initiate those cuddling sessions. Ghost appreciates it and sometimes hides a smile in either the pillow or your neck. As long as you don’t see him being silly, all is good.

Soap: He used to hate you being this tall. Soap may “only” be of average height, but he’s the tallest in his family, which he was actually pretty proud of. He towered over his father, even. And then he joined the military, where quite a few people were taller than him. And then you had the audacity to introduce yourself to him. You, the tallest man he’s ever met. It hurt his ego. Ever since you got together, though, he slowly got over it. You’re just such a sweetheart, how could he hate you over something as trivial as this? However, nothing could ever stop him from trying to pick you up and spinning you around. Soap is a pretty strong lad too, he’ll make it work somehow. You will feel tiny and cared for too. There’s a good chance he can’t reach your lips to kiss you. Yes, he could just ask you to bend down, but where’s the fun in that? Climbs you like a tree instead. He’s also always thinking of that one post where, instead of asking their boyfriend, the person should just punch him in the stomach. He won’t do it, but he remembers it every time without fail. He doesn’t mind you being scary either. Hell, Ghost is also a pretty scary guy to have around when you don’t know him and he’s one of Soap’s closest friends. Besides, he knows better anyway. You’re a total goof and the biggest sweetheart this world has ever seen. You being scary towards others just means that he’s got you all to himself all the time. Soap is a clingy guy, so you can expect him to cling to you like a koala from time to time. Actually, that was a lie, you should expect him to jump at you and hold onto you very often. Cuddles over safety. You’re likely also one of the only people on the planet willing to hear him out when he’s talking about his passions. And he could go on for hours every time. Explosives, weapons, whatever show you’re watching together, all is fair game. See, you’re one of the biggest sweethearts to him because you actually listen to him, despite him going into great detail about it all. You may not always be able to understand him when he’s talking chemistry again, but you hear him out anyway, and for that alone you’ve won his heart. He also sits on your lap while talking. You’re his little throne now that he takes immense pride in.

#cod #cod x reader #john price #john price x reader #price x reader #kyle gaz garrick #kyle gaz garrick x reader #gaz x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #john soap mactavish #john soap mactavish x reader #soap x reader #I doubt anyone cares but I HC Soap to be 1.78m and Gaz to be 1.81m I just forgot to mention it #m!reader #I know I'm biased but I feel as though I'm actually more willing to write about male readers than fem readers #90% of all things I see in this fandom are with a fem reader there's barely anything for male readers #still thinking back fondly on that one time I got a request for a ftm reader #but that was an eternity ago and I feel as though I'd write that request better now and with more content #I tried to write a lot for this because I was really looking forward to it #besides it was a pretty cute request too. I've actually got a request that's similiar to this one too #it's with Laswell and a reader that's roughly as tall as König #and then I've got something for Nikolai and Price as a couple #I'm gonna write some HCs for that alone and then write some more with added reader as a bonus #I know I never mentioned it anywhere but I do try to be a reader centric blog. but I can write charxchar as well #I just haven't done so since middle school I think #wait no I've written charxchar not too long ago for madcom and tf2. good times #not sure if I'll continue writing today though. I started a new anime and I'm enjoying it a lot so I might watch that instead

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neet-elite · 2 days

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↳ EVENT 01. Whitney Worship

Pairing: Whitney / F!Reader Genre: Smut 18+ WC: 2,652 Warnings: OOC, body worship, general worship, older whitney, fingering, established relationship, consent checks, praise kink Prompt(s): 05 — worship Wanna take part in the event?: CLICK HERE!!

A/N: YAYYYY thank you so much bby for being my first event request eee!!! my biggest fan MWAH smooching u sm right now. so happy i get to start this event off with something soft and loving <3 sending u so much love, thank u sm for your kind words and for always supporting me!!

(also i really want some more soft whitney content... u cant convince me that this man wouldn't absolutely dote on you the older he gets </3)

Deep in the recesses of his mind, he's always felt this way about you. A bit difficult not to, his heart stuttering from the first moment he met you, blindsided by how much he wanted to be yours— enough that his need remained buried under layers of dominance and control for years to come. But the stubborn little boy you learned to love was incapable of expressing his emotions correctly, in a way that could ever truly be understood; and yet you loved him anyway. Even through all the harsh words, the endless name calling, and the straight up abuse he had you suffer through, you loved him. How you're still by his side is beyond him, a twinge of hurt in his chest burrowing down to his tummy, soothed only by the cute little mewl you instinctively know to let out in encouragement. Describing himself as thankful doesn't even do his emotions justice, and words of praise even less so— though still he tries.

This is the least he could do in return for all those awful years he subjected you to. A gentle promise spread across the pad of his thumb, rubbing tenderly up and down your hip for you to giggle at. And God, what a pretty sound that is. You can hear how it tugs at his heart, can't you? Surely, because he can barely hear himself think over the loud thump in his chest. How even the comparatively innocent touch of his free hand squeezing at your waist is charged with intent, the way your pretty lashes flutter under him as his nails drag up and down your exposed skin so lightly that it must tickle causing his breath to hitch. He can't help but mumble a pitiful pretty, and pitiful is correct, because he's so fucking down bad for you that it's insane. Should be illegal, if he had anything to say about it. Pouting down at you when you whisper his name, followed by a sweet thanks that God he just wants to drink up, biting down on his bottom lip to try and hide the wide smile your dulcet tones bring out of him— but it's no use. Of course you can see right through him. Always have, only now he's not so afraid to hide his true nature.

That being his complete and utter adoration for you and your pretty little body, soft skin hot under his rough hands; it's nice, yknow. To just touch you like this, ignoring the underlying hint of greed shown in the tent in his underwear in favour of rewarding you simply for existing. Because you deserve to be treated like the best thing that's ever happened to him; because you are. And he needs to do right by you now, make up for his past mistakes with his tongue poking against the inside of his cheek in faux playful annoyance over your holier than thou position beneath him. The bottom truly holds all the power, don't you, love?

"I meant it. Too fuckin' pretty, s'annoying." He smiles, toothy and genuine when you smile back up at him. And he does mean it, fuck does he mean it. Leaning down a little to give your forehead a little kiss, trailing his lips down to your cheek only to place another, smiling against your skin when you giggle at his barely there touch grabbing at your waist to keep you in place for him to press a few more kisses at the corner of your lips in a teasing manner— a hoarse be patient crawling up his throat when you try to wiggle free to give him a proper kiss, but he soon gives in to your cuteness anyway. Letting his tongue poke out just a little against your lips, chest vibrating with a satisfied hum he moans down your mouth when you reciprocate the lewd action. But still, he'd like to take his time. Making out with you so slowly, still letting his hands roam up and down your naked body with purpose, as if mapping every possible inch of you in the event that you were to ever leave him— the thought of which has him kissing you deeper in a silent beg for you to stay. See, I love you.

Running his wide open palms up to your tits, letting himself cup them as delicately as possible as if he were afraid that anything stronger would have you shattering beneath him; a far cry from his younger self, he internally cringes at the memory. But in his kiss there lies hope. Hope for a better future, to become a better man for you. And that starts here, with every suck of your tongue inside his wanting mouth, every drop of shared saliva down each others throats, and every grope of his big hand against your tits. The other rests idly at your waist, dipping down just to playfully pinch at the fat of your thighs; one of his favourite places to be between.

He pulls away from your lips when he feels you do the same, enamoured by the string of saliva still stretched between his lips and your own as if it were an extension of you, and by that he means deserving of all the love he can muster. When you simply stare up at him with those big puppy eyes he has to bury his face against your chest just to hide the creeping heat on his cheeks, content enough to turn his attention to your tits with one getting palmed by his hand, and the other receiving his mouths tender treatment. Surely you won't complain about his cowardly hiding if he were to devote more time to pleasing you, right? Lapping at your nipple like a kitten, savouring every sigh, hiccup, and moan you make while he busies himself with indulging in your taste. Worshipping every inch of you as he shuffles his body closer between your legs, gasping into the feeling of his rock hard cock rubbing against his underwear which rests heavy at your cunt. Not that he has any intention of doing anything about it, because loving and doting on you is pleasurable enough for him, slurping and sucking and pinching as a means to communicate: I'm sorry, let me make it up to you.

Because he's never really been the best with words, opting instead to pop off of your pretty tits with a loud smack! only so that he can see how cute your expression gets when you feel his hand travel further south, ghosting over your skin just to have you shiver into him, make you feel as good as you've treated him, yeah?

"Dunno what I'd do without you," He sighs, almost whispering from how sincere his words are. "Wanna show you how much y'mean to me. S'at okay?"

Instinct begs him to attach slut on the end of his question, but your wide eyes and rushed gasp in shock of how soft he's being convinces him not to.

You take a moment to reply, and in the meantime he takes to running a single finger up and down your already sopping slit. Proof enough of how much you love him, and yet still he feels the need to earn your affections again and again, sorry remaining at the tip of his tongue regardless of how often you remind him it's okay.

But when you give him a sure nod he's immediately filled with boyish confidence, determined to prove his worth for as long as he needs to in order to properly apologise to you, and then to revere you as you rightfully deserve. He knows he's got his work cut out for him, but he's nothing if not stubborn when it comes to you, for better or for worse.

"Thank you." He whispers this time, finally allowing his fingers to stretch your folds open for him to gawk at. Hearts in his eyes and all, fuuuuck, he has to fight with himself not to tug his boxers down and just shove his cock in right there and then— because he's meant to be worshipping you. But you make it incredibly difficult for him to focus on anything other than how fraught with sheer desperation he is for you, distracting himself from his more indulgent thoughts by thumbing at your clit, clenching his teeth at the sweet little sounds his fingers touch out of you. Reaaaally taking his time, perhaps a bit too much so when your lower half wiggles under his thumb. Inwardly, he laughs at his previous words of patience; don't you know that he's trying to love on you?

"Need it that much, huh?" He gently taunts, though there's no malice in his words. Just amused domesticity, a certain warmth to his tone borne out of complete admiration for how... Well, if he's honest with himself, how perfect you are— in every respect! Every fibre of his being just begging to be allowed to worship you for the rest of his life, to have you see yourself the way he sees you.

You once again nod up at him, pretty pleading eyes coaxing him to fall further into you, to rub meaner circles against your puffy little clit like he's done plenty times before; except you're asking for it now. And there's no greater feeling in the world than to have his prayers answered as your slick coats his fingers in anticipation for his praises.

"All right then, pretty girl. Ask and you shall receive."

And true to his words, he slides his fingers down your slit and dips into your cunt. Just a little, and only one finger. The lazy pace of his actions frustrating even him, but he knows it'll all be worth it. Has to be, especially when you're huffing so cutely back at him given all his teasing thus far, jus' a little more he promises you, unsure if he's even telling the truth when you mewl all pretty and shit— God you're gonna be the death of him. Torn between teasing you all night, prolonging his prayers until the sun comes up, or giving you the release you're so desperately seeking, every squeak of the bed below your movements hypnotising him further. All he wants to do is make you feel good, praise your body to the high heavens, kiss every single inch of your skin and whisper sweet nothings against your cunt. A simple ask, really, considering you're more than wanting him to do exactly that.

So he follows through, lazily pushing a single finger inside of your warm little hole and he practically melts himself from the heat wrapped around his digit. How soft and fuckin' tight your little cunt is around him, the slow nature of his loving tonight allowing him to experience you in a whole new way; something more akin to appreciation, rather than the days of greed in the past.

"Feel okay?" He checks in with you, though there's really no need. He can tell from a mile away that your scrunched up little nose means you're having fun, but it's nice to ask anyway. If only to boost his own ego, or to show that he's serious about changing for you. "You feel— I mean, fuck. Always feel amazing," He swiftly corrects himself, chewing on his bottom lip out of habit while curling his finger inside of you, gently pulling it out and pushing back in— a slow enough pace to give you a little relief whilst also keeping you on that edge he'd like you to be at. "Always have, best cunt I've ever fucked." He's being sincere, but he cringes at the crass way his praise comes out anyway. That is until he takes a look at your face, peeling his gaze off of your finger swallowing hole for just a moment, and he bares witness to the lewd look you've now adopted.

Fuckin' praise slut, he should have known it all along, but having confirmation in the form of your rolled back eyes from a single fucking finger was worth the wait. You're worth the wait, and he can only hope that he is too when he picks up the pace. Just a little, encouraging you to writhe around a bit more, cooing down at you so sweetly in stark contrast to his usual self.

"Look so pretty like that," the finger inside of you buries deeper, curling consistently against your sweet spot until you're practically clawing at his wrist for some respite— but it doesn't come. Not out of spite, but out of love for you, he continues crooking his fingers against your squishy insides because he knows what that whine means. Gushy little cunt wrapped so tight around his finger, sucking him further in despite your desperate whines for a break. All he does is hush you tenderly, tongue between his teeth in fear of snapping and reverting back to his old manners when you look so fucking perfect with his finger inside of you, his eyes flickering between your pretty face, heaving tits, and your shiny with slick cunt.

"C'mon—" He seethes, brows furrowed in concentration of praising you, getting you off on his hand would be the highest compliment, he thinks. "Let me make you feel good, jus' give in, 'kay? He encourages, a sinful smirk tugging at his lips when your mouth falls open in a silent gasp.

Got you, he thinks to himself. Cock twitching merely from getting you off, from making you moan his name all high pitched and pretty like that while you gush around his finger, soaking through to the bed sheets below when he starts finger fucking you again to help you ride your orgasm out nicely. And the whole time he's thanking you. Softly rubbing up and down your side, occasionally groping at your tits, tugging at your ass while your insides convulse around him. Thank you, he sighs. "Thank you for trusting me."

"Thank you for sticking with me."

"Thank you for letting me see you like this."

"Thank you for believing in me."

"Thank you for cumming on my hand."

And even as he removes himself from you he's still worshipping you, practically eye fucking you as he shifts his weight down, ending up half laying on the edge of the bed to tug you closer, hands firmly wrapped around your thighs so he can sniff up and down your slick soaked slit. Vulgar as always, but it doesn't matter when he's so pussy whipped it's almost laughable, right? Maybe he should feel ashamed about how much he wants you, embarrassingly acting like a dumb dog when faces with your cunt like this— salivating from your scent alone. But upon sticking his tongue out flat against your slit to lap up all your sweet juices he figures it doesn't really matter. It couldn't matter when you taste this fucking good, cock leaking fat globs of precum from just a single suck of your clit. He quickly runs a hand through his hair, flipping his fringe up and out of the way for easier access to your sweet soaked cunt, he's serious about this, don't you know?

"Jus' cleanin' y'up." He slurs against your hole, wincing with you when you complain about how sensitive you are.

But that's okay, because if you cum on his tongue (which he's hoping for, fuck he wants you to gush in his mouth please—) then he'll just help you clean up again. And again. And again. As many times as he needs to until you instinctively know how worthy you are of worship, and how he loves you just oh so much.

#500 event!#i hate that this is technically an “aged up” writing but yknow #HES ALREADY AN ADULT ITS OK #dol smut #whitney the bully #degrees of lewdity smut #dol fanfic #degrees of lewdity fanfic

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hazbinfallinginaspiral · 2 days

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Hello fellow Vox Simp!

Have you ever considered Vox with a gamer partner? Or a Hacker partner?

The Gamer would have to be a soft Vox, picture them just hiding out in his penthouse waiting to give Vox attention whenever he's around. They would try cooking food from games but hey it's the thought that counts right. Maybe they have game related powers. Could happily aid Vox with getting VoxTech into the gaming market.

Hacker could be any kinda Vox. Vox struggles with code, Hacker can handle it. Someone trying to compete in the tech market, give the Hacker ten minutes and Voxtech owns that company.

Anything you write from these ideas I'm sure would be amazing!

Thanks! 🦈

I’m gonna be honest… this threw me off for a moment lol. I love it, my brain just isn’t working! You know how finals season can be. Anyway, sorry for the late reply but here’s what I’ve got! (Feel free to request again or clarify if I misunderstood anything!)

Game Over (Vox x Hacker!Reader)

-You knew coding better than most- not that it was hard, considering it wasn’t a particularly common skill. What was a surprise was your understanding of Vocode, a coding language Vox made up specifically for Voxtek. It’s indecipherable to most, and even himself sometimes, yet you’ve managed to get a perfect understanding of it.

-You didn’t really use your knowledge for good. You were in Hell for a reason, after all.

-Maybe you were hired for your proficiency in coding. Maybe you tried to hack into Voxtek systems. Either way, Vox had you on lock and key.

-You found that you didn’t mind too much. He used your skills for his own gain and supplied you with high quality tech, something you’d never have gotten otherwise.

-Of course, you’re more than ‘business’ partners now. Your relationship goes beyond that.

-He was nice enough, when it came to you. You weren’t exempt from his bad moods or anything, but he was kinder towards you. He made an effort, and that’s what counts.

-He often overworked himself, lashing out when he was frustrated. You could recognize these moods easily, and always went through the Voxtek systems to see who had fucked up to get him in a bad mood this time. You took care of it for him.

-Vox struggled with Vocode sometimes, and often called you in to help him. He’d be in a huff and demand you show him how you did it, explaining every step. And so you did.

-He sat in your lap as you worked, insisting it was because he didn’t want to miss a single thing. You noticed his system ran a bit hotter when this happened. Not overheating, but he seemed to like it.

-So he sat there like a cat, stubborn. You explained the ins and outs as best you could, but he seemed distracted as you moved. You shifted him a little to reach what you needed to better. He seemed less interested in actually learning and more interested in just being near you.

-Sometimes you suspected he wasn’t having a problem with the code and that he just wanted to spend time with you. You didn’t mind. It was endearing.

Bonus!

As I sat at my desk, immersed in lines of code, Vox's loomed over me like a comforting shadow. He leaned against my chair, his screen resting on my shoulder as he watched me work with keen interest.

"What are you working on?" he asked, his voice soft and curious.

I glanced up at him, a small smile tugging at the corners of my lips. "Just some maintenance on the Vocode compiler," I said, gesturing to the screen filled with lines of complex code.

Vox had previously seemed to be admiring something- and it wasn’t the code. Now his gaze shifted to the screen as he studied the intricate patterns of code on the screen. "You never cease to amaze me," he murmured, his voice filled with genuine awe.

I felt a warm flush of pride spread through me at his words. He didn’t hand out compliments, usually he didn’t like to acknowledge that he had any attachment to anyone- he saw that as weakness. The fact he’d be so open with me was nice, something I was still getting used to.

"Thank you," I said, quieter than before. I had a small, sort of happy and content smile on my face.

Without another word, Vox pulled me into his lap, his arms wrapping around me in a tight embrace. I leaned back against his chest, reveling in the warmth of his presence as I continued to work. The soft hum of his screen head was comforting, as was the white noise that accompanied it when I took a break to give him a kiss or compliment him.

Together, we made the perfect team, in my opinion. Absolute power couple. As the hours passed we switched positions a little so I could work easier.

As the soft glow of the computer screen illuminated the dimly lit room, I sat cross-legged on the floor, surrounded by a tangle of wires and circuit boards. Vox sat comfortably in my lap, his head resting against my chest as he watched me work with a mixture of fascination and admiration.

"So, let me get this straight," Vox said, his voice tinged with awe. "You're telling me that by bypassing this firewall and rerouting the encrypted data through this server, we can access their entire database?"

I nodded, a small smile playing at the corners of my lips. "That's right," I said lightly. I gave him a quick kiss,” my fingers flying across the keyboard with practiced ease. "With a little bit of my coding magic, we'll have everything we need to give Voxtek the upper hand."

Vox leaned back against me, his body relaxed against mine as he watched the code scroll across the screen. "You're incredible," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

I felt a warmth spread through me at his words, a sense of pride swelling in my chest. "I just do what I can to help," I said with a grin, though secretly pleased by his praise.

And as the night wore on and the lines of code blurred together in a whirlwind of binary, I knew that there was nowhere else I'd rather be than right here, with Vox in my arms, making magic happen one line of code at a time.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel vox #hazbin vox #vox #ao3 writer #my writing #vox x reader #writing #reader insert #reqs open #asks open #thanks anon!

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stupidlittlespirit · 24 hours

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Claustrophobia

Rating: NSFW, mdni Type: Longform, smut Tags: Trapped in a closet, Dubious consent, premature ejaculation, dry humping, fingering, no pronouns but female body described, slight gaslighting, Reigen being a disgusting pervert, female body described and skirt/stockings but no pronouns. Word count: 9,140 (sorry it's so long) My other works: here on tumblr and here on Ao3!

Reader and Reigen get locked in a closet during a job gone wrong, and Reigen doesn't know how to behave. (inspired loosely by @vasiktomis's fic)

Reigen isn’t in the habit of taking solo jobs he can't handle alone. Not anymore, anyway,

He's learned that, quite understandably, no one can be reasonably expected to just drop what they’re doing to serve his whim when he finds himself facing a threat bigger than the boots that he places himself in sometimes. Nowadays, he sticks to what he knows and picks the work that's least likely to result in an untimely death. Without any psychic abilities of his own, Reigen tends to go for the less spiritually-inclined call outs.

When he'd taken this job, he had assumed it to be one of those times.

The client, Kawasaki, had bemoaned a supposed ghostly presence lingering in a rundown property of his, causing damage and defacing the place, and stopping him from renovating the house for new tenants. As loath as Reigen had been to help a landlord, the price of the job had been decent enough to convince him otherwise and so he had taken it on.

Kawasaki’s description during his consultation had sounded like nothing more than squatters or trespassing teenagers looking for somewhere quiet to make out. Serizawa had agreed; broken locks, leftover beer cans and abandoned trash aren’t common signs of spirits and so Reigen had thought little of attending without any psychic backup. If he can manage without Mob or Serizawa, he will. They’re both busy enough, it wouldn’t do to drag them away from their studies or their friends for no reason. Besides, Reigen is confident enough in his own ability to handle things, for better or worse.

Still, he isn’t dense enough to wander into an abandoned den filled with potentially unfriendly squatters and disgusting creepy-crawlies all on his lonesome. Reigen can be stupid, but he’s not dumb. Instead, he had requested (see: demanded) the help of the only other person in the office he knows rarely has anywhere else to be: You.

He’s well aware that you don’t have much going on outside of working hours and you’re usually moderately willing to stretch your legs a bit when the day has been slow. A person can only stand to look at paperwork for so many hours a day, he supposes.

When you’d asked why, exactly, he needed you of all people to join him, Reigen had been blunt: “I’d rather not get stabbed over a property dispute, if that’s alright with you. Plus, I need someone to keep an eye out for roaches.”

According to his expert assessment, the work would be simple: Get in, sweet talk the people inside into moving along, and collect the fee.

Except, as is often the case, nothing Reigen ever does is simple.

When the two of you arrive, the building is empty. There isn’t a single sign of life nor death inside the entire house and he isn't really that surprised. The place is absolutely rotten. Dirty wallpaper peels from place, the once rich-looking wooden fixtures are soft and stained a gross green colour, their usual glossy surfaces dull and sickly, and the interior is so degraded that he's not sure how the landlord intends to salvage the place, regardless of damage done by potential unwelcome visitors.

Sleeping on the street would be preferable to staying here.

“So much for squatters,” he hears you mutter, the beam of your flashlight swinging around the room. It skims from tattered floorboards to broken down shelving, circuiting the room as you turn on the spot in search of the client’s woes.

“Maybe they left,” Reigen says, peering into a side room. “Makes our job easier anyway.”

“I wouldn’t hang around here, I know that much,” you sigh.

“Why?” Reigen smirks. “Not scared, are you?” He can never pass up on an opportunity to provoke you. You’re always a breeze to wind up and Reigen would be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy watching your hackles rise. He’s proficient in the art of being a dick, especially when it comes to you.

You roll your eyes at his attempt. “You wish. We should check upstairs at least, just to be sure.”

Reigen agrees, though in his ever chivalrous nature, he invites you to be the first one to brave the weak looking staircase. Each step you take up the rickety stairs is cautious, ensuring you won’t fall straight through the rotted wood and accidentally impale yourself on an exposed nail, and Reigen follows your footsteps perfectly.

It’s even darker up here. The windows are shuttered, boarded up tight beyond a few ripped out panels, and there doesn’t appear to be anyone hiding in the rooms; they’re equally as dilapidated as the ones downstairs. There are remnants of life in the house, though, besides the leftover trash: discarded boxes filled with long-abandoned books and menial belongings, old furniture and forgotten blankets, but they all appear to be as old as the home.

They’re covered in grime and clearly haven’t been touched much. The squatter theory looks weak without fresh signs of habitation, but there’s always the chance people are breaking in to snoop around.

Dust particles catch in the light beams of your torches as he takes you deeper inside, glittering and wispy, passing through the air like tiny little fairies uprooted from their hiding spots. Reigen swallows a sneeze and turns away from you, covering his nose and mouth with the sleeve of his jacket.

Dimly, he supposes he should have gotten masks for you both; the last thing he wants is a health and safety insurance claim on his hands if you inhale something gross. “If you see any asbestos, keep your distance,” he warns. “I’m not paying your hospital bill.”

“Thanks,” you reply, tone so dry it’s practically parched. “What does it look like?”

“No idea,” says Reigen, shrugging. “But don’t breathe it in.”

“Asshole.” He can almost hear you roll your eyes and he bites down on a grin.

The air is much cooler upstairs, icy enough to permeate Reigen’s suit and he suppresses a shiver as you follow his lead down a long hallway.

Despite his confidence in the office that the presence of a spirit here would be unlikely, he can’t help but feel nervous. Downstairs had been gross, but upstairs feels decidedly…. Unwelcoming in comparison. Like something is waiting for you both, hidden in the darkness and waiting to strike.

He knows it’s probably his imagination. This isn’t his first rodeo and usually a spirit makes itself known the moment he pokes around a bit. You’re just paranoid, Reigen thinks to himself, get a grip.

Your voice breaks through the silent air: “Can you feel that?” You whisper, coming up close behind him.

Anxiety rolls off of you in waves and Reigen can sense how tense you are even at a distance. He really ought to be a decent boss and offer some reassurance to the least experienced member of his team. You’re not usually the one who’s dragged into spooky places like this with little to no preparation; your expertise extends to paperwork and filing cabinets, and with no Esper abilities to speak of you’re completely exposed to danger. Reigen is too, he supposes, but he’s used to charging into unfriendly dens of danger without much care for his wellbeing.

He should be considerate and give you some warm words of comfort, offer to protect you if all hell breaks loose, yet he knows you’re not the type to cling to him like a frightened fawn and he’d only insult you if he suggested anything of the sort. Instead, he decides he’ll break the tension in a way that only he knows how.

He pauses at your front and you almost walk into the back of him, too busy looking behind you to pay attention. Reigen puts a hand out to keep you steady. “What do you mean?” He asks, glancing over his shoulder at you.

“I’m not sure,” you say, flicking your flashlight around in the darkness. “The air…. It feels heavy, don’t you think?”

Reigen hums and comes to stand behind you, swapping places and standing close enough that his chest bumps your back. “Actually, now that you mention it….”

Without a word, he reaches past you and motions for you to raise the flashlight a little, and you do as you’re asked, pointing it towards an empty room just off of the corridor. The beam is too weak to fully penetrate the darkness as you point it inside however, and the light barely makes a difference.

“What is it?” You whisper, craning your head around to see if you can spot whatever has caught his attention. The light is swallowed by the black expanse and it makes it seem as though the building is ten times as big as the distance you’ve just walked.

Reigen doesn’t answer your question.

The silence is deafening.

Reigen is so close to you that he can see the hairs rise on your arms in his own torchlight and he’s quite pleased when you lean away from where you’re pointing the light, pressing back against him unconsciously in order to distance yourself from whatever might lurk in the shadows. You might not be the sort of person that needs protecting, but he can’t deny that something stirs inside himself at the thought of you seeking him out for support anyway.

Nothing moves in the dark.

No one speaks a word.

It’s the most perfect set-up Reigen could imagine.

“Boo!”

His hands grab at your sides as he shouts right down your ear, as loud as he can manage. The scream you let loose is close to inhuman and in a pure panic, you lurch away from the source, scrambling aside until your shoulder collides hard against the wall. You swing your torch out violently in a feeble attempt to protect yourself from the unseen threat and Reigen dodges the heavy lump of metal, laughing his head off at his wonderfully successful prank.

The watery light lands on his doubled over form, collapsed against the opposing wall in a fit of ugly giggles, his body shaking with the force of it. He cackles at the terrified sight of you, hands still outstretched from where he’d seized your waist. “Your face!” Reigen gasps, struggling to breathe through his fits. “Man, you’re too easy!”

It doesn’t take a genius to see that you’re very admirably restraining yourself from throwing the torch at his head. You look like you’ve had the fear of God put in you, face paling and eyes wide, clutching at the ruined walls like a cartoon cat on the ceiling. The big grin that splits Reigen’s smug face suggests he’s overjoyed that he’s gotten such a reaction from you; he always is.

Furious, you lash out with one foot to kick at his shin. “Fuck off!” you hiss, breathless with fright. “Fucking asshole!”

Still laughing, Reigen nimbly avoids your attempted assault again. He looks far too pleased with himself and as soon as you can breathe again, you flounce off down the hallway and make your way back towards the staircase, leaving him pitched against the doorframe whilst he tries to get his breath back.

The darkness clearly doesn’t seem as frightening to you now that it’s clear the biggest threat in here is your jerk of a boss and you stride back the way you came, ignoring Reigen’s half-hearted shouts for you to wait. He won’t let you get too far without him. Although the house is empty, it’s still run down and dodgy as fuck. The last thing he wants is for you to be so angry with him that you fall down the stairs or cut yourself escaping his mean spirited jokes.

“Wait a second!” Reigen shouts, still struggling to sound completely serious. He scrambles after you, following the sound of your heavy footsteps as you stomp back the way you’d come.

“It’s not funny,” you snap over your shoulder. “Get lost. You can go-!” Your sentences halts halfway through, cut off almost comically, and Reigen is mildly disappointed that you’re not throwing rabid insults his way.

“C’mon,” Reigen cajoles, pushing his luck as he rounds the corner to the landing. “Don’t be like that, I thought you could take a joke!” He’s still got a stupid grin on his face as he comes closer and he takes a breath to say something else when abruptly he realises you’re standing stock still in place.

You look even more terrified than you had moments earlier and briefly, Reigen worries he might have caused permanent trauma “What is it?” Reigen asks, suddenly sounding a lot less jovial. “I didn’t scare you that badly, did I?”

At the foot of the staircase, the floorboards squeak and a foreign voice speaks aloud into the damp air: “I thought it was funny.”

He freezes mid-step, one foot suspended in the air. The voice doesn’t belong to anyone he recognises and judging by the look on your face, it doesn’t belong to anyone you know either. A cold and unpleasant sensation slides down the back of his neck, like a fat droplet of ice water trickling along his skin. The heavy, dense atmosphere is back, even worse than it had been when you’d first come up here.

Cautiously, like he’s afraid the room might explode, Reigen edges toward where you’re standing. You don’t look at him at all, eyes fixed on whatever has spoken at the foot of the staircase, and it makes Reigen’s blood run cold again. Very slowly, he ekes his flashlight up from where it points at the floor to join yours and shines it’s weak beam towards the source of the sound. It illuminates the bottom most stair and as he raises it higher and higher, the form of an impossibly black figure reveals itself.

It’s vaguely human shaped, except the limbs are longer than they should be and they’re bent at uncomfortable angles, like it’s stuffed into the space it crouches in. The thing is big enough that it takes up the entire doorway at the foot of the stairs and it seems to almost absorb the light of the torch, watching the two of you closely with a featureless face. No, not quite totally featureless. Rather than have eyes or a nose, or any other defining characteristic, It has a big, horrible smile, made up of crooked teeth that peek out from behind non-existent lips.

Reigen hears your breathing hitch in fear and this time, his responsible boss attitude does take over. He curls a hand around your wrist and inches in front of you, sheltering your body with his. The spirit is big. Bigger than the usual ones he faces off against. With only a bag of salt in his pocket and a hopeful prayer in his heart, Reigen knows he’s limited in options on how to deal with this. There’s no Mob and no Serizawa to back him up. He’s on his own for this one and he really doesn’t want to give you the impression that he can’t handle things by himself.

Maybe he can use the only trusty weapon he has in his arsenal: His mouth. Reigen holds his free hand up in an innocent gesture. “Sorry,” he says, plastering on a fake smile. “Didn’t mean to disturb you. We were just, uh, exploring….”

The spirit makes a sound of disgust, like two rusty metal sheets rubbing together, and it begins to crawl up the stairs, inch by inch. “Exploring each other, more like. Why is it always my house you kids come to fuck in?”

Reigen chokes on his tongue, his face burning. “Hey, come on, it’s not like that!”

“Of course you are, you’re all the same.” The spirit’s mouth draws back into an impossibly wider grin. “Why can’t you just get handsy in the car like everyone else?”

“Fuck off,” you snap, though your voice is weak. “No one’s coming to this shit hole to have sex.”

The spirit’s grin turns downward into a furious scowl and Reigen barely predicts what’s about to happen in enough time to yank you away from harm. The grotesque creature launches itself upward, its long limbs allowing it the capacity to make short work of the remaining stairs, and it lunges straight for the both of you with a snarling shout of indignance at your insult of its home.

Reigen manages a shout of warning before he yanks you aside, grabbing your hand in a bruising grip, and he pulls you out of the thing’s path with all the strength he can muster. You have the good sense to let him manhandle you across the landing, abandoning your torch in favour of hanging onto him, and you stagger alongside towards the hallway again.

The creature crashes against the wall at the top of the stairs, the force of its strike knocking over the old furniture that’s been discarded there to grow mouldy and old. The wood crunches horribly on impact and Reigen is always impressed by the way spirits, for such non-corporeal beings, manage incredible ways of destroying their far more material environments with ease. Right now, however, he’d rather not go the same way as that chest of drawers. He doesn’t plan on dying in a place like this and there’s no way he’s about to let you meet a grisly end either. He’s far too fond of you for that.

The spirit has the stairs cornered, which leaves little else in the way of an escape route. Reigen has no choice but to take you deeper into the house and hope to lead the thing around in a circle to free up the stairway. Barrelling down the corridor, Reigen is running blind. He realises he must have dropped his flashlight in the chaos, too, because everything in the house is so incredibly dark that he feels like there’s a bag over his head. It’s almost impossible for him to see where he’s going, there’s no way he’ll be able to get his bearings well enough to loop the property like this.

That is, until a sliver of light from another room catches his eye. Reigen pivots on his heel at breakneck speed and heaves you sideways with him through the open doorway, ever the nimble little weasel. He slams the door shut behind you and scans the room for a hiding place, breathing hard and keeping a tight, sweaty hold of your hand.

“What do we do?!” You gasp, out of breath from both the running and the fear. “We can’t get out, what do we-!”

“In there!” Reigen points across the dim room. On the far side past a broken down bed and several piles of boxes and filthy duvets, there’s a slim little closet. It’s the only thing in here that seems to still be whole and mercifully preserved from the rot that’s infected the rest of the building. It’s the best bet either of you will have at staying hidden.

Reigen doesn’t wait for you to answer. Instead, he lugs you towards it and wrenches open the doors, tumbling inside. Reigen’s back hits the wall as he flattens himself against the interior, his body folding awkwardly in order to fit into the cramped, tight space, and he hauls you in after him. You’re all elbows and knees as you land on him, scrabbling for purchase in a panic, and your body shoves at his while you try and find your balance in the darkness.

He pushes you against the opposing side, his hands clutching your waist to stop you from wobbling and falling right back out into the open, and his legs tangle up between both of yours. By some stroke of good fortune, you have the presence of mind to snatch the doors shut after yourself. They close with a mercifully quiet click! and then it’s just the two of you, panting hard and fast into the dimness as you listen for signs of your undead pursuer.

Several somethings clatter around in the hallway, followed by the sound of breaking glass and a frustrated growl, and Reigen strains to hear if the sounds are moving any closer to the bedroom you’re sheltering in.

After a few long moments, however, nothing comes.

Reigen breathes a silent sigh of relief and then feels you shift in place. You’re virtually painted onto his front, your chest squashed against his own and your face not even half an inch away from his. It dawns on him that this is quite the intimate position to be in with a person he’s supposed to be in charge of, and he feels the cool sweat of adrenaline turn into lukewarm awkwardness.

You tilt your head a fraction to give yourself a bit of room to speak and your lips brush up against his cheek. “What were you thinking?!” you scold him in barely a whisper.

“Huh?” Reigen murmurs back, trying to ignore the sensation.

“We’re sitting ducks in here,” you breathe. “If that fucking thing finds us, we’re dead!”

He hadn’t really considered that. The closet is tiny and dark, only a tiny filtering of pale light from a broken window board across the room reaches through the thin slats sitting just above your heads. It smells like dank old oak and probably a few different cultures of microorganisms. The only thing there’s room for in here is mould and dust. Neither he nor you will be able to escape if the spirit figures out where you’re hiding.

“Just shut up,” Reigen mutters, flexing his hands on your waist. “Stay quiet until it gets bored and then we can sneak out.” It’s a weak plan, but it’s all he has right now.

A few rooms over, something crashes against a wall and you flinch against him.

Reigen can feel the warmth of your body seeping into his own through your clothes, your breasts brushing the front of his shirt, your hips locked with his own. Your arms are forced almost around one another, both of you clinging to the other’s sides. Perhaps it’s the excitement of the chase, or maybe the thrill of escaping yet another near-death situation, but Reigen’s blood feels like it’s catching alight. He’s warming up all over, perspiration beading at his temples, and he isn’t quite sure how to stop it. Were he to purse his lips, he might even accidentally kiss you.

Reigen is technically in charge of you. It’s well known in the office that all of you work side-by-side, however on the paperwork side of things, he is legally your superior. He’s supposed to uphold a certain air of respectability around his colleagues yet when it comes to you, he finds that responsibility getting more difficult by the day. You argue back and forth with him, always ready to challenge his overpowering confidence when it starts to get out of hand, and he can tell you enjoy the verbal sparring as much as he does.

There’s something unsaid between you both, something heavy that’s only been building over time, but Reigen is too afraid to drop his façade of being The Boss Of You to investigate it further in case he’s read the entire situation wrong. If you were to refuse him, to laugh in his face, he'd never live it down. He couldn't handle such a dent in his ego and he'd rather die than admit it aloud.

He does his best to hide it when he chances little looks at you and so far he’s only been caught out on his less-than-professional observations once, by Ekubo. Horrible little fiend that the ghost is, he’d caught Reigen sneaking a peek at your ass as you’d cleaned a cupboard in the staffroom, chatting away to him and none the wiser of his perverseness; you’d been on your hands and knees, half disappeared into the space under the sink, and Reigen had seized the opportunity to drink in a spectacular view of you from behind.

Your skirt had risen ever so slightly too high, revealing the top of your stockings and the thin sliver of the clips that held the fabric in place, and Reigen had lurked silently in the doorway, watching closely and committing the sight to memory.

Until, of course, Ekubo had materialised out of thin air, as he is so often wont to do, grinning lasciviously, and scared the shit out of Reigen so badly that he’d almost tumbled backwards out of the room. Despite the rude interruption, he’s never forgotten the sight.

Reigen knows it's wrong, that it's fucked up that he'd view a staff member, a friend, like that, and yet he's never had the willpower to put a stop to it. Images of you in raunchy positions just like on that day have haunted his mind on late, lonely nights whilst his hand has wandered into the waistband of his underwear of its own accord.

He’s fully aware that he shouldn’t be jerking himself off every night thinking of you stuck under the sink, unable to get away from his curious hands, but he can’t ever feel guilty enough to think of anything else.

Right now, he wishes he'd at least tried. The memories of those imagined scenarios are stirred up by your closeness and he thinks, distantly, that if he'd tried to be a good person for once and made an effort to ignore them then he might not be struggling as much as he is currently. He’s never intended for you to find out about his fantasies and getting caught short like this is probably not going to go down well. He needs to stop thinking about all of this before it gets out of hand.

The sound of floorboards groaning out in the hallway outside makes you startle and you squirm between his legs, straining to look through the slats of the door. One of your thighs rubs up into his crotch, sleek material gliding against his suit, and he’s reminded that you’re wearing another skirt today; the smoothness of your legs means you’re more than likely in stockings again and the memory rears its head. Reigen grunts softly, gritting his teeth. “Stop it,” he grinds out quietly. “Quit moving.”

Much to his distress, you don't. Rather than obey his command, you use his body to push yourself further up to peek out of the slats and Reigen is forced to tighten his hold around your middle, dragging you back down. If you won't stop, he's going to have to make you. He digs his fingers into your side, bunching them up in the fabric of your shirt and pulling it downward to still you.

“Let go of me, you idiot,” you hiss, attempting to pry off his grip and straighten up. “I can't see!”

Reigen is sure you don’t intend to do it but the motion of your movement forces your hips to rock forward into his and he bites down on his lip so hard that he thinks he's drawn blood. He attempts to move away again, only to bump his knees against the wall under you. Reigen sucks in a sharp breath, ready to snap at you again to force you to back off, until the door to the room you're in bursts open like a group of police officers exercising a warrant. It slams against the wall loudly, the whole thing vibrating with the force. Nose to nose with him, you share a look of panic.

Something lets out a rattle of breath outside.

Reigen leans his head aside to press his mouth against your ear. “Don’t fucking move,” he says, barely audible, and he does his best not to notice the way you tilt your own head to let him fit in closer. His breath is hot against your skin and if he isn’t mistaken, you might even shiver a little.

The creature outside prowls into the bedroom, grunting and growling to itself as it searches between littered furniture for the two stowaways. Its nails scrape on the floorboards, the sound getting louder and louder until it pauses, right outside the closet. There’s a chittering noise that reverberates in Reigen’s chest and just beyond the wood, barely a hands-width away from your heads, the spirit sniffs up and down the seam of the closet. It sounds like there’s something wet caught in its throat, each draw of breath a phlegm filled rattle, and it scratches its claws on the door, seeking out any living forms within.

The spirit smells foul. Its scent is somewhere between death and rancid meat, and Reigen swallows against the saliva that rises and swims in his mouth, trying not to gag. The freezing air on its dead breath ruffles the hair at the tops of your heads and washes you both with the scent.

A swaying cobra, its form moves across the light that filters into the cupboard, turning it murky and dark but not quite removing it entirely, almost as though it’s trying to peer inside despite its lack of eyes. After a few minutes of unbearably intense silence, the spirit seems to give up on sniffing you out. It lashes out at the closet doors with its talons, tearing into the surface of the wood, before turning tail and lurching out of the room to continue its search elsewhere.

The aggressive swipe it takes at the closet makes the whole thing rattle loudly, bouncing the doors inward with force, and you jolt as though you’ve been hit. Instinctively, Reigen turns his head to check that you’re not hurt and at the same time, you turn yourself into him even more, afraid of the thing lurking outside. In the tight space, with barely even enough room to breathe, the motion forces your mouths to slot together. It can hardly be called a kiss; you’re doing little more than exchanging oxygen with one another, yet it’s so close to one that Reigen’s body betrays him almost instantly.

On your breath, he can smell the sugary strawberries you’d eaten on the way over here and again his mind conjures images, unbidden, of your lips wrapped around the fruit’s soft flesh as you’d eaten them in the passenger seat of the hire car, of the smile on your face when he handed them over; a bribe from a stopover at a gas station to stop your complaints about the long drive and an entirely selfish gesture on his part, purely for the reward of your attention (and perhaps, too, for the guilty pleasure of watching you lick your fingers clean when you’d finished).

The thought reignites the heat in his body and almost instantly, all of the blood in his brain sinks to his crotch. Reigen gets hard so quickly that he almost passes out. He isn’t sure where he finds the resolve, but somehow he manages to hold back the tiny little groan that threatens to spill from his throat, instead breathing in sharply through his nose at the sensation. Reigen’s eyes flutter shut momentarily, both in pleasure and in anticipatory fear of the look on your face.

He knows you must have noticed; his suit fabric is cheap and thin, barely a barrier to hide behind, and with your own legs exposed by your skirt there’s no way you could miss it. The weak light allows him to make out that you glance down and then back up to him.

Embarrassment burns on his face.

“It’s my cell phone,” Reigen lies without hesitation, defending his pride before you can even begin to question it. “Don’t flatter yourself.” He knows better than to throw out an insult to protect his own decency, however he’s starting to panic a little more than a seasoned sleuth should be and it has nothing to do with a ghostly presence.

You clear your throat softly and nod, looking away. The smirk on your face only makes his cheeks burn more; you’ll never let this go if he doesn’t act fast and distract you. “Look, we need to make a run for it while we still have the chance,” Reigen says quietly, trying to will away his arousal as best he can. “We open the doors and sneak back to the stairs. Don’t say a word and follow my lead, got it?” He’s being stricter than he usually is, partially to conceal his humiliation and partially because he needs to put his mind to something that doesn’t involve his dick.

“Sure thing, boss,” you whisper back, and Reigen can hear the amusement in your tone. He chooses to ignore it. When you get back to the office though, he’s going to make you clean that damn sink again in penance and he won’t feel the slightest bit of guilt for watching you do it. Maybe this time, he’ll even take a picture for his private collection….

Lower down in the closet, the light is completely swallowed again by darkness and Reigen has to blindly take one hand off of your waist to slide it along the door until his fingers bump against the knob. He takes hold of it and twists, attempting to push the door outward slowly. Except, the door doesn’t move. It doesn’t even budge. Confused, Reigen twists the metal further in case he hasn’t moved it around far enough and tries again. Still, nothing happens.

“What are you waiting for?” you say, frustrated.

“It won’t open,” Reigen grunts, rattling the doorknob as hard as he dares. He can’t afford to make too much noise and draw the spirit back towards you both, but he can’t risk losing the chance to run for it, either.

“Please tell me you’re fucking kidding,” you say in a strained whisper. “Reigen, stop messing aroun-”

“I’m not!” Reigen growls, jiggling it again. “I can’t get it- it won’t open!” He applies a little more pressure, wrenching it back and forth a few more times until, after one particularly frustrated yank, there’s a sickening crunch of dead wood and more light pools into the closet via a new, small hole.

He’s ripped the entire thing off.

“Oh,” says Reigen quietly.

You stare at him in utter disbelief.

“This place is falling apart,” Reigen says, immediately protective of his screw up. “It isn’t my fault-”

“You pulled the fucking handle off, Reigen!” Your voice rises momentarily before you wrestle it back under control at Reigen’s rather brusque shhh! “You pulled it off,” you repeat, far quieter this time but still distressed. “We’ll be trapped in here for hours, you idiot!”

You’re right. The only two people who know you’re both here are Mob and Serizawa. Mob is busy with friends and it’ll take Serizawa a little while to catch on that something is wrong. The job is about forty minutes from the office; allowing for travel and the time it takes to complete the work, Reigen can safely estimate that it’ll be a while before your absence is questioned. That means he’s going to be stuck in this stupid little closet, half hard and totally distracted, with you glued to him for a long time.

He tips his head back against the closet wall and sighs, closing his eyes as he tries to wrack his brain for potential options.

Reigen wonders if he should just try throwing himself at the door and facing off with a hungry spirit. It might be more preferable than his current situation, at least.

It’s uncharacteristic of you to be so mute when Reigen fucks up, and after a few minutes of miserable silence he opens his eyes again to check that you’re still there. You are, of course, but there’s a look on your face that Reigen rarely sees you wear. Despite the shitty light, he can just about make out that your eyes are becoming wide, gaze darting around the closet, and he can feel your chest beginning to rise and fall far quicker than normal, just like it had when he’d made you jump. Your breath is coming in fast, short pants and your hands grasp at the front of his shirt.

You’re starting to panic.

Abruptly, Reigen remembers you confiding in him a while ago whilst the two of you had watched some terrible horror movie together, lounging around in his apartment one evening, about how much you disliked the thought of being trapped.

The protagonist had been buried alive and you’d barely been able to finish the rest of the movie, too caught up in the anxiety of the scenario to remember how unlikely it would be for a similar fate to befall you. You’d clutched his arm so tightly that he’d found a small bruise the next morning in the shower and he can still recall how excited he had felt to have a souvenir of your presence….

Focus! Reigen warns himself, straightening up as best he can to force himself back into the moment. Now isn’t the time!

He squeezes your waist gently, a reassuring reminder that he’s right here with you. “Calm down, I’ve got it all under control,” Reigen lies through his teeth, slipping back into his false bluster the moment he knows he’s fucking things up. “We can wait until the spirit goes back to sleep and then-”

“Spirits don’t sleep!” You snap. “I’m not waiting-”

“They totally do!” Reigen replies, annoyed that you’re questioning his ever profound knowledge. “Look, I’m the professional here, you don’t even come out on jobs so why don’t you just-”

“You got us stuck in here in the first place, mister professional,” you say angrily. Both of your voices are stage whispers now, caught between concealing your presence and yelling at one another. “There has to be a safety release in here!” Your body twists viciously as you squirm around, hands flitting across the inside of the closet in an urgent attempt to free yourself from its confines.

Somehow, despite the tiny space, the ferocity of your search manages to turn you around until your back is flat against his chest instead, your body ramming his.

Reigen is torn between biting his own tongue off in frustration at the feeling of you writhing against him and yanking you closer to seek more contact. He drops the doorknob onto his foot, praying the sound will be muffled enough that it won’t draw attention and freeing up his other hand to grab a hold of you before anything more mortifying occurs. He needs to distract you, for his sake and yours.

“Hey, stop!” He attempts to prevent you from going any further, wrapping his arms around your waist and anchoring you down. “Easy, just stay still-”

“Get off of me!” you snap, tilting your head toward him and wriggling against his grip even harder. With every move, your ass bounces off of his lap and Reigen prays to whatever god is listening that he doesn’t make any more of a fool of himself than he already has today. The sensation is sinful, like he’s fucking you with your clothes on, and Reigen isn’t sure that he can hold out like this.

“Wait,” you pant, halting your search in the darkness to reach behind yourself for his slacks’ pocket. “Your cell phone, you said you brought it in, right?” You slide your hand down behind your back, right past his midriff, and grope around for the lifeline, palming at whatever you can reach. “Call Serizawa, he can exorcise that thing and let us out!”

Those gods must be laughing at him.

Abruptly, Reigen lurches his body aside, feebly trying to avoid your intrusive touch and acutely aware that his lie is about to be found out. “Stop,” he begs you softly, starting to panic himself. “Please. You gotta stop touching me or I’m gonna-” He drops his hands from your waist to grab yours where they rest, halfway into his pockets and you wrestle with him for a second to try and move him away. Reigen swears under his breath.

The proximity and your wriggling make a horrible, delicious concoction and his body reacts accordingly: Reigen is hard again. He can’t fight it anymore, not with your hands so close to his cock and your breath so hot against his cheek.

What happens next is a complete accident, an automatic move he makes before his brain catches up: Hands clamping down around your waist, Reigen purposefully rolls his hips into the soft curve of your ass, hard enough to gain the exact, exquisite friction that he’s been denying himself the entire time he’s been in here with you. Everything occurs so fast that he just about has time to clamp his hand over his mouth to stifle a pathetic little sob as he cums, hard, in his pants. He squeezes his eyes shut, stars blooming behind his eyelids, and pants desperately as he tries to catch his breath.

At his front, you’ve gone very still.

For a few minutes, no one speaks. Only Reigen’s ragged breathing and the sounds of birds somewhere way off beyond the confines of the house fill the silence, until you finally find your voice again: "Seriously?”

Reigen isn’t a stranger to making an idiot of himself, but this is definitely a new low for him. He knows how much trouble he’s going to be in when the two of you get out of here and he can practically smell the oncoming harassment lawsuit wafting through the stale air. Although, maybe that’s just the scent of his sweaty embarrassment….

Ever keen to save face though, Reigen does his best to play stupid. “What?” He asks, voice frayed at the edges.

“Did you just blow your fucking load-”

“Absolutely not-!”

“My ass is wet, Reigen,” you hiss. “I can feel it through my skirt!”

The thin material around the front of his slacks is soaked through, he knows you can. “No, it isn’t,” he scoffs, denying it without hesitation. “You’re imagining things.”

“Liar.” You tilt your hips back minutely, just enough to rub up on his spent erection, and Reigen breathes in sharply. “I didn’t realise you were so into ghouls and near death experiences,” you whisper, sounding amused in spite of your annoyance.

“It’s not a ghoul,” Reigen corrects automatically, mouth moving independently of his brain. He swallows thickly and shifts in place. “And even if something like that did happen,” he says, trying to sound dismissive. “It’s because you won’t stop moving, it’s only natural.”

“That’s… A pathetic excuse,” you admonish, head tipped back toward him. “Even for you.” Your tongue darts out to wet your lower lip, however in such close quarters, the motion effectively wets the corner of his, too. Hot spit brushes against his lip and Reigen’s mouth parts almost of its own accord, an automatic reaction to the stimulus. The angle is awkward but your mouths slide together, the slickness of the skin unbelievably arousing.

“S’not an excuse, it’s your fault.” Reigen protests weakly, lips catching against your own as you nudge your nose along his cheek. He knows he should really apologise for his indecency, that he should try to find a way out of this situation as quickly as possible, and yet…. That heavy, unspoken feeling that so often follows him around when he’s with you is filling up the interior of the closet like thick cotton wool. Your words are sharp and stinging, but you don’t seem to be as disgusted as you sound. It makes his head swim and his legs feel weak, and in some kind of unfortunate miracle, Reigen can feel his cock stir with interest again already.

“You’re really blaming it all on me? You’re the one who dragged me along to this and you’re the one who got us locked in this closet.” You laugh quietly under your breath at him, disbelieving and more than a little entertained. “God, you’re insufferable.” You press backward again and Reigen chokes back a whimper.

“I told you to stop-”

“Stop what, boss?” you ask, feigning innocence, and fuck does he hate how much you’re able to get under his skin. No one else toys with him like this, teases him. No one else dares to question his leadership or to wind him up until he explodes. No one else except you.

Reigen grits his teeth so hard he swears he feels them creak under the pressure. “If you don’t quit moving around like that, I’m not going to be held responsible for what I do next,” he grinds out. He knows you’re provoking him on purpose and he shouldn’t fall for it so easily, but he’s powerless like this and if there’s one thing Reigen hates; it’s feeling fucking powerless.

“Oh? And what are you going to do about it?” You ask, words heavy with ridicule. “Cum in your pants again?”

Reigen has had enough of your attitude.

“Fine,” he snaps. “You want to play dirty? Let’s see how you like it.” He’s been aching to touch you for so long; if this is the only chance he’s going to get, he’ll take it. Reigen isn’t one to watch opportunities pass him by. He wants to grope and grab and feel his way all over you, and he just doesn’t have the willpower in himself to resist it anymore, especially when you’re winding him up like this.

Reigen’s hands drop from where they hold your waist, inching to your hips and down to grope at your ass. It’s just like every wet dream he’s ever had about you; you’re stuck with nowhere to go, at his mercy as he touches and grabs whatever he can reach.

You breathe in sharply at his touch and your back arches, silently seeking his attention. “That’s so inappropriate,” you whisper, and he can hear the smirk in your voice. You don’t mean a word you’re saying. “I should report you.”

“Oh yeah? So do it,” he challenges, pawing at the curve of your backside greedily. “I’m sure they’d love to hear all about how you started it.” It feels like a dam has broken inside him, a flood that he’s held at bay for so long that it’s too overpowering to put a stop to now that it’s begun to overflow, and without your outright refusal, Reigen feels justified in his act. His hips rock forward again and he shudders, his own arousal not forgotten.

At his front, you snicker to yourself at his neediness to chase the feeling and he feels one of your arms snake upward to loop around his neck, your hand clutching at the back of his hair. The action prickles goosebumps along his skin.

“Fuck,” Reigen gasps as he moves, words tumbling out in soft pants. “You couldn’t just stay still, could you? Moving your ass like that, in your stupid fucking skirt and your stupid fucking stockings.” As his hips roll into you, his fingers travel to your skirt to find the tops of said lingerie and he runs his touch up the nearest strap of your garter belt.

You make a soft sound of surprise. “Stockings? How do you know I wear stock-”

Reigen pings the elastic, cutting off your words and making you gasp at the sensation, your fingers tugging at the strands of his hair. Reigen smirks, pleased to finally get the upper hand even if only for a moment. “I’ve seen them before, in the office- drives me fuckin’ crazy, ” he pants into your parted mouth. “Every time you bend over, your skirt is too short.”

“It is? I had no idea….” You pout, lower lip touching his. The words are faker than Reigen’s confidence and it makes him grin.

“I knew it,” he says, ego emboldened. “Tease.”

“Pervert,” you fire back with a smirk, legs opening a little wider as his curious hand trails up from the band of the lingerie toward your inner thigh.

“D’you wear them every day?”

“Only when I know we’ll be alone together,” you confess.

Something about your admission turns Reigen on even more. The thought that you’re only wearing them for him, for his attention, is mind blowing. He can imagine you slipping them on in the morning, thinking of him as you study yourself in the mirror before you leave for work. Reigen squeezes your ass again and uses the leverage to his advantage as he continues to work himself against you, head filled with the intimate images.

His fingers slip up your leg until they brush against the crotch of your underwear, the curve of your pussy hidden underneath. Much to his pleasant surprise, he notices that he’s not alone in his needy desire. He can feel that you’re similarly affected by the closeness, enough wetness seeping through the lacey fabric that he suspects you might have been aroused for just as long as he has. “Look at that,” Reigen teases softly, a smug grin spreading on his face. “Acting so high and mighty when you’re just as desperate for it.” He can’t deny the swell of narcissistic pride that rises in his chest; he’s making you wet. You. The object of his obsession, the person he’s only ever dreamt of having like this. It’s his touch that has you keening and sighing, even if you won’t admit it.

You scoff, refusing to give him the satisfaction. “Am not-!” Your protests are smothered in favour of a hushed groan as Reigen’s thick finger nudges past your underwear and slides easily up into your cunt, your wetness offering no resistance at all.

“You were saying?” Reigen smirks, slowly inching his finger in and out, bit by bit. You’re so warm and tight around him, hips grinding down, back and forth in time with his motions. Every movement has your ass rubbing on him and Reigen lets out a shaky sigh as he presses up to meet you.

His dick strains against the fabric and silently, he wishes he had the room to free himself and fuck you silly. Now that he doesn’t have to pretend to be anything but the perverted mess that he is, Reigen ruts against your ass like a dog in heat. The enclosed space feels stifling with both of your bodies heating it up, sweat pooling at the back of his collar as he works himself up all over again. He knows he'll look a mess by the time you both manage to escape this place.

You’ve begun to make pretty little sounds against his mouth, hushed moans mixing with his desperate pants as he works his finger inside you and it’s so obscene that Reigen almost finishes on the spot. You’re both making too much noise and at this rate, you’re at risk of getting killed if the spirit returns to find you both doing exactly what it had accused you of breaking in for. Reigen knows he needs to quieten down and find a way to shut you up, too. In the fraction of free space between you, he nuzzles his mouth to yours. Although what you’re engaged in is amorous enough, the gesture is so intimate in comparison that it makes his heart flutter. “Can I kiss you?” Reigen asks, surprisingly timid considering how vigorously he’s fucking your ass.

Debauched as you are, you roll your eyes. “Finally,” you murmur. “He asks.” You sound almost relieved by his request, as though you’ve been hoping he might offer such a thing, and Reigen grins to himself.

When he kisses you, it’s sloppy; messy, unskilled and full of spit. He licks his way into your mouth enthusiastically and sighs at the touch, a trembling breath that whistles through his nose and dampens the skin of your cheek. You grunt at the force but you allow him to continue, coaxing his tongue with your own in an attempt to slow him down. Reigen doesn’t listen. He’s too confident in his own ability to take advice from you and far too excited to calm himself down anymore.

Between your legs, he presses a second finger into you, relishing in your gasp of pleasure. You’re so wet that his palm is quickly becoming slick with your arousal as he pumps his fingers and Reigen relinquishes your mouth with a lewd smack. “Fuck, you’re really into this aren’t you?” He says, bumping noses with you. “So wet and-!” Reigen’s words end in a choked off moan as you let go of his hair and drop your hand to reach behind you, cupping his cock mid-thrust.

You grasp him firmly through his damp slacks and let him grind into your grip. “You’ve got a big mouth, Reigen,” you pant, teasing. “Someone ought to teach you how to use it.”

Your hand is all he needs. Reigen is too greedy to stop himself when he knows his end is near and even if he wanted to, he’s helpless to stop it. He ought to at least try and hold on, to make up for his earlier premature finale and prove that he’s good at this kind of thing so you’ll think he’s somewhat of a decent fuck and maybe even ask for it again, but he just can’t.

A tension builds in his lower stomach, red hot and carnal, and then he’s cumming all over again, spilling into his already-filthy underwear. Reigen shudders violently, seizing you in another clumsy kiss. He almost bangs heads with you as he attempts to cover the pathetic little moans that bubble up out of him by smothering them into your mouth. Reigen’s knees feel weak again and he slumps against the closet wall behind him, breathing hard and totally spent.

You tip back the short distance with him and laugh . “So soon? I was just starting to enjoy myself….”

The back of Reigen’s neck heats up and he curls his fingers. “Sounded like you were enjoying yourself plenty,” he snipes, out of breath but still able to find a sharp-tongued reply.

You choke on a moan and wiggle your ass to encourage him. “I could stand to enjoy myself a little bit more,” you say, cheeky.

Reigen grins. He might be selfish when it comes to his own pleasure, but he won’t leave you high and dry (or wet, as the case may be). “Relax,” he whispers against your ear, cocky now that he can have you at his mercy instead. “We’ve got plenty of time, you said so yourself, right?...”

•••••

In the end, it takes Serizawa three hours to come to your rescue. He exorcises the spirit and frees you both in under five minutes, and when you finally return back to the office, Reigen still has you clean under the sink before he lets you go home for the day.

reader during this fic like

#reigen arataka x reader #MP100 #Reigen x reader #self insert #reader fic #Reigen Arataka/reader #mob psycho 100 #mob psycho reigen #reigen arataka #reigen is gross #reader insert #interaction banners by cafekitsune #smut #reigen arataka x you #reigen arataka x y/n #i hope this is okay bc i hate it #they don't get it reigen im kostrafobic!!!!

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little-emerald-snake · 1 day

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I come bearing another potential "sequel" idea. Obviously you don't have to write this. I randomly thought back to the "Sebastian with a reverse PA" story and, well...

Let's say f!MC decides she wants to return the favor, in a way. She decides to get a piercing of her own that can help stimulate them both. My mind says either a tongue piercing or a fourchette piercing, but that's completely up to you if you decide you like this idea 🤭

Anyways, she gets it and it becomes so hard not to ruin the surprise and she's holding off because it's still healing. She has to keep coming up with excuses for why they can't (too tired, have to study, etc). Both Seb and MC are sexually frustrated so by the time she feels it's healed enough, it's feral while also trying to be careful with both piercings.

(I'm just realizing how both my requests have a bit of a theme to them. Don't know what that says about me 🤣 Anyways, much love 💜)

Piercings pt3 - Sebastian Sallow X F!MC

🔥 NSFW 🔞 MDNI

My lovely cyan1de, your brain is absolutely filthy and I love it 🫶🏻. I’ve taken your inspo but I changed the piercing to something with a little less heal time for the stories sake. Hope you like it anyway 💕. Thank you as always for the requests!

Warnings: descriptions of healing piercing, please have mercy and if you get a ‘spicy’ piercing let it heal fully/follow aftercare instructions so you don’t get an infection, modern college a/u, unprotected p-in-v, oral f receiving, mattress fucking?

2k words

Things had been incredible between them. While they had no label per say, they very much went on dates, spent the night with each other and hooked up fairly regularly.

She knew his birthday was only a few weeks away and while he swore he only wanted to spend the day with her and refused gift ideas, she had a fun little idea that had manifested after a saucy conversation or two about piercings.

After talking plenty about his she’d decided to ask what he’d think if a partner were to get one. He chuckled and gave her a wild playful look, hair messy from the combination of sweat and her fingers carding through it. “Wouldn’t mind it. What? You thinking about getting one?”

She’d only shrugged playfully, pretending to mull it over. She couldn’t deny the fact that she had in fact been thinking about getting a piercing ever since their first encounter. “Well if you do decide you want one-“ he paused to wiggle his brows and glanced at her bare chest “or two…I think it would be hot. But don’t feel like you need one just because I got one.”

She’d of course done her research of healing and pain and decided her top contender was a VCH piercing. Between the benefits, healing time, and the aesthetics of it she decided that would be the piercing she got.

Her roommate had agreed to go with her and hold her hand while she got it done, all kinds of on board for her and Sebastian since she seemed to be really happy since they’d started hooking up.

Thankfully the piercing wasn’t too painful, a big pinch and a bit of soreness but nothing she couldn’t handle. Her roommate had been hysterically laughing since she’d gotten home to look at it and her first words uttered were “She’s so pretty!”.

The next day Sebastian had tried to come over between classes for a bit of midday fun. But she’d quickly made the excuse that she was really tired and needed a nap. She’d also carefully evaded going back to his after a coffee date by saying she had to do some extra studying.

Luckily she’d been able to just get away with a good blowjob for him on the couch during their movie night at his place later in the week. He’d started to get a little suspicious after about two weeks of evaded sexual encounters or only blowjobs. “You know you can talk to me right? Like if something is wrong…is something wrong?”

She quickly waved him off just saying she’s been having some hormone changes which have made her tired and have a lower libido. In all honesty she was having an incredibly hard time telling him no, but she was almost halfway through the recovery and was determined to surprise him with her new piercing. “Love, is this because of your period?” He’d said while nipping the spot just below her ear, grinding against her thigh. “You know I don’t mind a bit of blood, I’ll still take good care of her. I promise.”

She of course already knew this since they’d already had period sex and he hadn’t been deterred in the slightest. Of course he’d been all too accommodating of her surge of desires during her ovulating week though.

He whispered incredibly sweet things and treated her like a princess but they definitely were a very sexually active couple. So when his hands began to wander when she stayed the night just a few days into her third week of healing she was losing her battle.

He whispered raunchy filth into her ear, rubbing and grinding against her inner thigh and moving closer to her crotch. One intense drag against her had her wincing and her mouth falling open.

Sebastian immediately stopped, cupping her face in his palms. “What’s wrong, love? Did I hurt you? Are you okay?”

She finally broke down, just three days before his birthday she felt like it was unavoidable at this point. She flashed a shy smile, looking up at him cheekily. “So you know how I talked to you about getting a piercing right?”

Sebastian’s lust lidded eyes popped and she swore she saw them sparkle. “You didn’t.” He looked down between them as if he’d see it through her clothes. He looked back up with wide eyes. “Holy shit…what did you get pierced?”

She laughed and rolled him off of her, carefully shimmying out of her pajama shorts and spreading her legs for him. “Surprise! Happy Birthday.”

His eyes darkened and he looked up, licking his lips. “Gods I’ve missed your pussy…and now she’s all pretty for me. God you know you didn’t have to do that.”

She smiled, blushing as he looked back down in awe. “I wanted it. It wasn’t just for you, promise. What do you think?”

He licked his lips again and she practically moaned from the look on his face. “How long till it’s healed?”

She bit into her bottom lip nervously. “Healing time is 4-8 weeks and it’s been 3 weeks and 4 days.”

His eyes widened. “You got it to be healed perfectly on my birthday…” he crawled up the side of her body, holding her neck carefully in his palm and he whispered against her lips. “Naughty girl.”

He kissed her deeply, tasting her and groaning into their kiss. She could feel his arousal against her thigh and it had her moaning into his kiss. He pulled back, eyes dark and lusty. “You can’t make those sounds, not when I still need to let that pretty little pussy heal up baby.”

She practically whined against his lips. The soreness had long since disappeared and she knew if she kept things clean that it would likely be fine for them to fool around a bit. She pushed at him till he was shoved out of bed and standing beside it, confused. “You’ve showered, right?”

He nodded, a confused tilt of his chin as she waved him towards the bathroom. His gray shorts doing very little to cover all the freckles littering his skin or the bulging mass thickening between his legs. “Go wash your hands then come back to bed.”

His eyes bulged and he hurried to the bathroom. He came back quickly, sliding into bed with her. She could smell his hand soap and smiled up at him as he crowded over her. “What are you comfortable doing? I don’t want to hurt you.”

She reached between them, palming his erection through the sweatpants he wore and hummed softly with approval. “I need this tonight, that is, if you’ll give it to me.”

He ground against her hand, leaning down to nuzzle into her neck and inhale her scent. He groaned, rolling his hips harder before frustration pulled somewhere inside him and he reached down to free his aching cock. It sprung free, cool air kissing his swollen leaking tip, silver barbell glinting in the low light. “Gods I’ve needed your pussy.”

She giggled breathily as he notched himself at her entrance, sitting up to watch the head of himself disappearing, his eyes fixed eagerly on her brilliant new piercing. His mouth practically watered with the urge to roll his tongue against it, use his tongue to flick the jewelry over her sensitized clit. “Does it increase your stimulation?”

She nodded, gasping as the head of his cock sunk inside. She was tight from their lack of fucking and she felt him pulse excitedly from inside of her walls. “Y-yes, even just cleaning it and looking at it in the shower, whenever I bump it, feels so good.”

He groaned in agony, shutting his eyes and sliding another inch or so inside, rolling his hips to increase her friction and spread the wetness. “Gods your so fucking tight. Been too long since you've been stretched around my cock, love.”

She nodded, gripping his shoulders. His hand slid down, barely pressing against the jewelry and she cried out, legs wrapping around his waist. Holding himself back was going to be a feat and a half.

He sunk the rest of the way inside her and she constricted around him. He nudged the jewelry against her clit again and her head tossed backwards in pleasure. The sight of her falling into pleasure was absolutely breathtaking. He groaned, adjusting to straddle on leg, bringing the other so her knee hooked up over his shoulder, now spread apart his pubic bone ground against the piercing and had her moans heightening in pitch.

His thrusts were slow rolls that casually surged to desperately needy thrusts that he couldn’t hold back no matter how badly he tried. She felt far too good and it had been far too long. “God you’re cock, oh and the way your r-rubbing the piercing. Fuck, I’m gonna cum!”

He chuckled as she gripped the sheets and arched up as she tightened like a vice around him. He tried to keep a cocky tone in his voice but it came out far more strained than he’d hoped. “Oh yea? Already, baby? That little piercing really does help you out, doesn’t it?”

He pressed a thumb right over the jewelry and she lurched up, practically shrieking as she rippled around him, crashing over her edge so fast. He groaned, surging his hips through her orgasm till she finally stilled, loud cries dulling to whimpering coos.

He pulled out of her, having her look down at him in hazy confusion as he settled, laying himself between her legs, spreading her warm thighs open in front of him. She flushed all the way from her cheeks to her thighs as he groaned, spreading her open and grinding his hips against the bed, glutes flexing and drawing her attention before he whispered in a gruff tone. “Fuck it.”

He dove in, licking her cunt from her silky wet opening and up to her newly decorated clit. He moaned at the taste and she frantically reached for the mass of fluffy hair. “S-Seb you can’t! You just fucked me there!”

He made another groan, rolling his hips steadily against the mattress. “I don’t care. This pussy is mine and I’ll eat it whenever I want to. I don’t care if your fresh out of the shower or freshly fucked and filled with my cum. I’ll taste you whenever the fuck I feel like it.”

Heat pooled deliciously between her legs as his tongue flicked precariously over the jewelry through her hood. He teased it over her clit, ran his tongue below it and tortured her with direct pressure that had her absolutely wild and all the while his hips never stopped against the bed.

The sight from between her legs had her quickly climbing the rungs of another orgasm. Her tugs in his hair became more urgent as her toes curled against the warm blankets and her thighs bracketed his head as she arched up into his talented tongue.

She came, shuddering and loose against his face and she didn’t stop till finally he lifted his head, licking her shiny wetness from his lips and chin.

Her eyes bulged when he sat up and she saw the strings of cum trailing from his cock to the blanket. Had he really fucked their sheets till he came while eating her out?

His eyes met hers and he glanced to where she was looking, chuckling and using that low satisfied tone that made her tingle. “How about I change the sheets while you shower off so everything stays clean?”

She swallowed, nodding and getting up into shaking feet and padding into his bathroom while he tossed sheets into the wash. He joined her and a whole new fresh wave of arousal rising inside of her as his erection slipped between the cleft of her ass and she was suddenly wondering if the slap of his balls against her clit as he fucked her from behind would feel as good as it sounded.

#hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy smut #hogwarts legacy fanfiction #sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow fanfiction #sebastian sallow smut #little emerald snake #requests

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ebonysplendor · 20 hours

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psst 👀 you should check out “Where He is King” by mellowbile on itch.io

Hmm...heard 👀

TL;DR: He's a joker, a jester, an absolute clown...but the pain that he puts us through is no joke

That was horrible, I know. I couldn't think of anything else. Plz let me live ._.

Game Link: https://mellowbile.itch.io/where-he-is-king

Notable Features: Nameless MC, Female MC, Demon/God LI(?), Yandere LI(?), Choice-heavy story Spiciness: 0/5 -- Unless you're into the whole dismembered from the inside out thing, then 5/5. No kink shaming here LI(?) Red Flags: 5/5 -- Physically abusive, Torture, Sadist. That's about it, but it's pretty gruesome/vivid stuff

Wanna know more? Not if you're not at least 18! Y'all were good until it got updated a few days or so ago due to the gore. Anyways, if you're part of the 18+ club, let's get into it!

!! C O N T E N T !! !! W A R N I N G !!

He looks more like a jester to me, but it may trigger that whole fear of clowns thing...just a heads up

So, this one was a request, which I'm always excited about, so of course I had to give it the old college try. To be honest, I saw and played this the same day that I had gotten the request (hence why I wrote the whole "y'all were good until a few days ago" thing, because it was a few days ago at the time), but I really wanted to get that Trembling Essence review out first, and then, I started adulting and lost track of time, and then a month went by, and yeah. Not to mention that I was looking FOREVER for a particular ending; I'll get into that more once the review portion comes along. Anyways.

Now, admittedly, this one wasn't too much of my style but...actually, just take a look at this:

I actually appreciate the disclaimer because, admittedly, the first thought I had was "This feels gorey for the sake of being gorey", but after remembering what they had said about it being more emotionally charged writing, I realized that it actually was pretty emotionally charged. Like, the writing itself was actually pretty solid and the art? Ugh, I loved the visuals. Those of you who have been rocking with me for some of my reviews know that I get completely undone over sprites, CGs, and all that visual stuff.

Admittedly, I don't really have too much to say in the intro. All that I want to say seems more appropriate for the review portion, so I'm going to go ahead and jump into talking about the game itself. As per typical, I'm going to tell you as much about the game without ruining the game itself.

So boom.

We're on the run. Well, let me rephrase that: we were on the run, but our ankle is kind've AFK, at the moment, and running isn't really an option right now. Just as a little backstory, the reason why we're trying to get away from him is because everything is literally going to shit, or Hell, more accurately. Villagers are disappearing, children are either becoming runaways or being abducted, and there's this hypnotic music that's (assumed to be) always playing in the background from a taunting distance, being just barely heard. Not long after, a devil -- that was intentional, by the way, because he's not the devil, but a devil. He ain't that special, but he's still dangerous -- catches up to us.

Friedrich "JunJingl" Marchosias. Yeah, I jumbled the pronunciation of that last name, too, but just know that that's his name lmao.

Naturally, he starts to taunt us, calling us a "broken toy" because our ankle is sprained, and we aren't much for running right now, which makes his pursuit less amusing for him. This wouldn't be such an issue if, one, Sir Jester Douche wasn't a literal psycho and a pretty serious threat, and two, we weren't literally the last human alive. That's right folks: we're what remains of humanity. Okay, well, maybe not that dramatic, but it seems that way because the people that would've been in the surrounding area are either dead or they were a part of his army, but that's not reassuring either because he only took the children for his army -- we're a full grown adult, so our fate isn't looking too good.

At this point, he's getting pretty pissed at us. That's because he's been talking mad shit this whole time, but we've been silent throughout his whole lil' speech. Like, oh, pardon me for my brain shutting down and putting survival at the top of the list, my good sir.

We indulge in his arrogance briefly, but just long enough for us to stall him while we make a gameplan. Now, here's the thing: if we make a run for it, we're probably going to die because our ankle is pretty messed up, but if we stay and keep talking to this psycho clown...we're probably going to die.

Huh. Okay then. With that being realized...

We bolt. We are outta of there. Point blank period, because it's like, if our chance of death is pretty much inevitable, we may as well make him work for it.

That's kind've falling flat though, because he's right on our tail, and he's not even putting in the effort while doing it. We can't worry about that for too long though, because we hear this music playing and...oh shit.

It's going from bad to worse. Now, we have to worry about his entire army chasing after us, too. It doesn't matter though because survival is still at the top of the list, no matter how slim or nonexistent the chance may be; we keep running. We run and run and run and run until we get to this well. Granted, it may have been a stupid move, but we actually managed to get a good bit of distance, and we stop to get a drink from the well. Like I said, probably a stupid move, but shit, we don't have much of a chance of survival if we're dehydrated. ...Actually, we don't have much of a chance of survival if we are hydrated, either, but a bitch is thirsty, so we get that damn drink, or so we thought we were going to. What we were expecting was a well full of rainwater.

It's full of blood.

We don't even have time to be scared before Friedrich pops up behind us. With our survival instincts kicking in, we get on our gangster shit. We notice that the bucket was silver and recall how a lot of the things in the village had been replaced with silver dupes because it could ward off evil. When I say that we got a good ass grip on that silver bucket...

And absolutely knocked his shit in?! We blasted the hell out of him with that bucket. Look at this man's face.

Lmao, no babes. Not that face.

Lol not that one either...

Ah, yes. We...might have just plummeted our inevitable chance of death to an inevitable certainty of death...

And the story continues from this point, my friends! Actually! This is only one route of ten! Which ending is this you ask? Lol like I'm going to tell you. You'll have to play the game for yourself to find that out. Just be cautious, because it does get a little...messy.

Okay, so! ...Wasn't really my cup of tea, not gonna lie, but it wasn't bad!

First and foremost, let's get into the visuals of this game. The art was definitely pleasing to look at. Like, ugh, I love CGs and sprites and visual effects and all of that, and this game had a looooot of them. Like, take a little lookie look.

Chef's kiss work right there. I really, really, really loved the artwork. Definitely my favorite aspect of this game.

Now, like I said in the beginning, the gore was pretty "in your face" and definitely gives the initial impression of being gorey for the sake of being gorey; however, I made sure that I read it with the "emotionally charged" disclaimer in mind. Pleasantly enough, I actually could get that vibe. The dev gave the go-ahead for personal interpretations but, mmm, nah. Even though I'm not the most analytical person, I was going to let you all in on my weird thoughts, but nah, I think I'll pass on that for another day.

Put it this way though, obviously, I took it as a metaphor for being in pain, but hear me out (TRIGGER WARNING FOR SUICIDE BY THE WAY): it's not just physical pain, but that pain that you feel from the inside. You know, that internal pain that's so intense that it feels like it's literally tearing you apart from the inside out. The worst part about that type of pain is that, even though you want to die, there's something that's keeping you alive, and it feels like literal torture. To me, the game was a huge metaphor for fighting to survive but staying alive feels like torture, and you're just left constantly wishing for it to just end -- maybe a sprinkle of being haunted by past mistakes and a possibly wavering faith? (TRIGGER WARNING END). Anyways, that interpretation may make more sense if you decide to actually play it for yourself. Lol I guess I did let you guys in on my thoughts after all. Guess we're getting kinda close at this point, huh?

Also anyways, another reason why it took me so long to post was because for the LIFE of me, I could not frickin figure out how to get ending number 7!! At the time, the game was extremely new. Like, still in the box wrapped in plastic new, and I was like "Shit, I'm on my own, and I'm dumb". I spent so much time and literally revisited the game on different days to see if I had accidentally skipped something and found nothing new. I looked through the files, and I was like "Bro, I've literally seen all of these sprites and CGs. What am I possibly missing?". When I say that it was driving me nuts... BUT THEN! I WENT TO THE GAME PAGE AND I SAW THIS

OH BLESS IT. I WASN'T BEING AN IDIOT; ENDING 7 JUST DIDN'T EXIST. THE RELIEF THAT I FELT. At the same time though, I was like "...why was there no ending 7?" But minor concern. Very minor.

Overall, the game was pretty damn solid! Lots of gore for sure, and I definitely didn't mind it, but the initial reaction was gore just for the sake of gore; however, when you really give it a chance, the writing's actually pretty okay. My favorite thing about it was by far the art and my other favorite thing was that we got to blast Friedrich's ass with that bucket. That was so satisfying. I mean there were consequences, yeah, but we still got our lick in lmao.

Welp, that's pretty much all from me! I recommended giving it a solid playthrough or two! I recommend it so much, I'll put the link right here so that you can give it a try. Also! Apparently they have a tumblr page for their art, and I'll link that here as well! I didn't see anything for a donation, but if you find otherwise, I'm sure they'd appreciate the monetary support. If you're broke, like me, send them some encouraging words and let them know "Hey, you did a thing, and I think that you should continue to do that thing because you're pretty good at it!"

But yeah, I'm going to end it here so that way I can FINALLY get this posted! Sorry for being MIA for a little. Adulting really be adulting, and I am ill-prepared for it a lot of the time ^^;

Anyways! Remember to drink water, don't be dumb, and hope to see you around~!

Where He Is King

Dev's Art Tumblr

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